Blind God

A voice followed me
Which foot do I put down first?

I was back in Los Angeles
Wrapped in a woman's wild colors
Resulting in a dark bird's love call
That shattered by daylight

Move the branch from my face
Thanks to the vague white flowers
that point to the gleaming metal of the city

The hills grow wearly and lean a little with the heat
As I continue to play this game for a blind god

As I watch a monarch
I know that something stands among the trees

Two people touch twice a month
The cruelist irony

As Pablo says
Loving is so short, forgetting is so long

It Was Something

One time
I was covered in you
Every day
It was something

At work
It was something
I was thinking about —
Then it was work

And then
I was
Touching myself
Asking for your tongue
Inside my mouth

And my body rings
Like it was something
Afloat, akimbo, awake, or at rest?

The story writing itself all around me

I think of you

And again


You wake up in your blue walls. Cold, I imagine. Your nipples hard, not from frigidness, but because they’re usually sensitive. I’m not sure what you do when you wake up in your mother’s house. I’ve never been there. Maybe it’s feet first on the ground. Maybe you stretch. Maybe you run to the shower (just like I do). 

I imagine you putting your layers on. Maybe wrap that scarf I sprayed over your neck. You step outside, walk down the stairs to the street. Don’t you hate the cold? Walk to the bus, bus to the train. To class, but wait, you don’t teach dance to children like you used to. Traveling underground to teach something else - always teaching.

I imagine you. On the bus. A soft skin against a solid window. You might see someone you know. I imagine the scent has faded from your scarf, by now.

Looking at metropolis cement. Our darkness turning into cement. The only chord connecting us is the chord of flowers I see each morning. I imagine you don’t always see flowers. For you- things change - an almost constant steadiness of different scenery. For me the only indication that spring has come, are the purple flowers that surrender to gravity. 

Molten in me still are your constant changes. My dear - do you smell me on your scarf?

The only wind I feel, resembles your touch. 

If I become a stranger -

Will you still love me again?


When you look like your mama
And your sister
And all the strong women who built you

I would like to give you
Fluorescent orange poppies
The ones that line the California coast

How will I wake up?
From your titan warmth
The hold of our hands and legs
How even after months
Our bodies conform

Tucking myself into the warm seam of your tighs
Thinking, babe, you’re gonna miss that plane

Your visits, a replenishing, gentle shock
Each time, moving in slow motion
I refuse a formal goodbye
Yet I am at the mercy of your reaction
Laying siege to your touch
As I peel away

That unique feeling you get. Smothered into that pocket between your heart and your gut. This feeling, sometimes called butterflies... but for me, a sinking feeling. One that swells for a moment and rises into my lungs. Exhausting and vocalizing in a heavy sigh, with a a romantic song.

Today, I see more.
Whoever made you was a sensitive person.

The earth was breathing
The waves creating motion
Like a gently rocked child
Cradling a turquoise air
Can you create my eternity?

Even in our strong, youthful hands
When we hold them
Can feel the blood pumping

Within the organic nature of our touch
Your moves are methodical to my pleasure
Make my body erect
Aggressive, passionate, loud, past
A real performance

Why is there still this space inside me? I sigh at the cost of loss

I remember when you told me, how beautiful I am when I sleep.
How I am beautiful yet so unaware.
How you wake up earlier than me, and calmly stare-
in awe that you have me - grateful to have me

I try to remember you

and let you go

at the same time

And in the end

you learn

how to be strong



As we say goodbye
the sea levels rise

As I loose confidence in the world
Knowing it isn’t mine anymore-
without you in it
It wasn’t my world
without you in it 

Hold on to what hasn’t happened yet
Keep that present in your memory

Flowers will start growing-
Until we meet
And I will hold a rose in my mouth
And hope it will blend with my smile


I keep seeing numbers
One, two, three, four
I want to count –
Things are more digestible that way

One, two, three
Swing me around
Throw me a bone

I want to sing
But I am waiting
Until I can count backwards
So when I get to one
I won’t feel so lonely at zero

One day
Whether you are
or 65
you will put a fire inside me

I've seen nine moon phases since you
As the moon waxes and wanes
I can travel far
But never too far from myself

I can comprehend that now


Look at your little kid eyes
The mud puddles
The sweet spot

Push your worries aside
Perform for me.

I see someone walking down the street
Someone who looks like you
I yell -
See me!
If I don’t yell for you, I will disappear

Left unmoored in the middle of the thoroughfare
Life is not comforting me
Left temped by other horizons

Even with the longing for you
You not being there-
Feels Warm
Feels real

Today I reach from every corner of the sky
Extend my arms wide
Heart leaking -
They can smell it in the street

Is it getting impossible to breathe?

comfortable in seat

you have pulled the confession out of me
where does sadness live?
I feel like there’s a hole above my collar bone
sadness creeping in a place I didn't know existed

you place your hand on my mind
you placed your hand on my heart

Don’t let yourself loose me
you are a range in which I run
no feeling is final
give me your hand

enduring patiently
walking beneath the darkening ground
you’re overcasting shadows
but I can move in them

Stretch a little more
be comfortable in your seat.

petals of shine

sun soaked
no blonde hairs
what do you speak? I ask
the present tense. She replies

I feel what you feel
when the island sun turns to city grit

Nothing shines here
cloud soaked
neediness for shiny things to blind us

Swelling under concrete
shuffling and the press of bodies
I mumble in my magnificently unknown words
in the midst of the crowd

if we must go to extremes
give me maximum illumination 

Blind me with your sun
sweet sugar, brown woman
shed my layers with your exfoliating ways

How can I measure how I love you?
the way you exude your shine
how the metal of the city reflects on me
this is the color of my dreams


paradoxically, a strong spirit and gentle heart
who says soft can’t be strong?
the good ones never come easy

the virtue of things growing
fighting against the blossoming of lies
the lies we fight

the virtue of things growing
who says soft can’t be strong?

originally, prostitution of lies
unapologetically, using it like drugs— to find truth
conventionally, distance does not cultivate strength

put me on hold-
keep creeping out of life
keep thinking you’ll put me back into motion
help me walk in the dark

a collection of well curated failures
walk with me outwards
willing to be afraid

don’t deny love-
fear wins this way

touch away the tears
attune, alter
can you hear how loudly I’m thinking of you?
press play


You have abandoned my secret storms
You want to love me when you can see the horizon clearly
But I need you to love my murky waters

I thought you would forgive
Once I undressed, you could see me
Unwrapped from all the mistakes

You forgotten too soon all the things I thought you could never forget
I’m sick of reducing relationships to lessons

I’ll always be sorry—
I always thought there would be more time

Now time has stopped.

I stand in the line that resembles the horizon. The line I created for myself
Your light is heading toward the horizon. The line you created for yourself

The horizon that sits within the sea and sky
The horizon that sits between my heart and yours

I remember that simple line like a vague dream
A vague dream I cannot afford to loose