January 21, 2018

as much of forever

i had the windows rolled down 
and you turned on the radio.
it was that kind of day where the thunderstorms
grow on the edges of the sunshine
like ripples in a pool big enough
to fill the sky. 

you had a thunderstorm in you.
the kind that blows the houses down
but really saves the flowers.

we flew up the dirt road, but i was laughing so hard
that i could barely see through the dust
because you were grinning and hollering at every stranger that would look at you.
and she grabbed the back of your seat
smiling like a firecracker
just trying to get as close to the center of the storm as she could.
she loves you.
we both love you.
we'd take the bullet meant for you.

(it's just too bad it's not the bullet 
that's been trying to kill you.)

whenever i think about happiness
it's that day.

the day with the windows rolled down
and the thunderstorm guy in the passenger seat
and the firecracker girl in the back seat
and the way you smiled at me.

stop worrying.
i'll be around to torment you 
for at least sixty more years.

i'm so bad at math. did you know that?
because you laughed and it was saying:

forever, stupid.
that's forever.
or as much of forever as i can give.

we watched the thunderstorm come in over the pine
rolling like endless ocean waves.

i'll take as much of forever as you can give me.

and the rain on my cracked skin.
it felt so, so good.




January 11, 2018

may death be that kind

the clock strikes eleven
and i wonder how much suffering
the last hour of christmas can hold.

i'm trying to remember what i said...
what my last words were.

see you soon.

that's what i said.
i meant it.
but no matter what you mean, things can always change.
someone was born today.
there is no rule that says someone can't
today either.

oh Lord!
let it be easy!
today/tomorrow/doesn't matter when, let it be as easy as
but breathing has been hard.

let it be as easy as summer.

all those days we spent in the green fields, watching the horses,
laughing at the grasshoppers and the way they flew in lazy circles.

may death be that kind.

he's always prayed simple, with the hands and the face of a farmer
a man that works hard. and this faith
is the kind You accept
oh Lord, let it be so.

let heaven be flung open to him.
full of fields and yellow dogs and birds with yellow feathers that always
perch right by the window he liked the best.

let it be easy as summer.

and Lord?
if dying be hard
let it be quick.
he has worked so long and so well and now all the fields are golden brown.
they are stretching on forever. like a sea of gold.

like a harvest
ready to be brought in.

see you soon.
thank you.
i love you.

no words come.
the machines in this hospital are too loud anyways.
but your eyes flicker over me with one
sweet recognition.
and i know you see me
though i am cowering in the shadows of the hallway.
i know you already know.

where we're going
words are useless
but my heart is saying them anyways.

i love you.
i love you.
i -


my grandpa died on january second. i have loved him since may twelfth eighteen times over.
and now forever.


hey babes! so here's the plan:


poetry, words, thoughts, maybe some songs in video form (heck) all of the above.
in other news: i'm working on a novel.
i'm working on finishing/editing/finding a publisher.
oh my gosh.

thanks for the love, and the safe place to spill a tired heart.

all the love,

November 13, 2017

la reyna

"if i ever finish this book, i will dedicate it to you."

i wake up at six o'clock, and the light is just creamy enough to see by. it's may, like it always is in the old movies when the poppies come out and the apple trees hang low, frothing with green buds and virgin blossoms all dressed in rose. i curl my hands around the white sheets we washed yesterday, hung up to dry in the wind coming down off the mountain. there is no hurry. there is only time. slow, honeysuckle time.

i sit up, and watch the golden edge creep up the waist of huajatolla until she is fully dressed and i am fully awake, ready for the warmth of coffee and the sudden cold of the hardwood floor in the kitchen. she climbs up into my lap with a soft, milky purr and i scratch her just behind the ears. i know she likes that.

as i leave to make the coffee, she leaps off the bed to follow, and i look back. his chest is rising with the slow, evenness of his breath. there is no hurry today. only time. so i stand in the doorway barefoot, watching the shadow of the pine tree outside curl it's way around our window. she makes a sudden, loud noise, greeting the morning. and i see him yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, rubbing the sunshine through his hair.

he looks at me, grinning at him.
he smiles.
so slow, and so sweet.
because there is only time.
slow, honeysuckle time.


i wake up at seven o'clock and hit the alarm before her pillow hits me from the top bunk. we both try to pull ourselves up, and i hear her murmuring the words to la reyna under her breath despite the cold.

i don't know if you're coming for me.
and i don't know what i'm waiting for,
but i'm waiting.
oh Lord, You know i'm still waiting.

and no matter how many words i fumble through, hurting and hurting and hurting, i am still hopeful. i know that nobody is promised somebody at the end of this. but i can't help feeling like tomorrow will be the day. or the next one after that. or maybe that one at the end of a long, beautiful string of days will be the day that brings

this room.
this room still smells like honeysuckle.

to m.
i stumbled across your notes. i'm not sure why they made me cry, but they did. this is only half of the ache you made me feel.

and to the beautiful olivia knight.
this is for all of those posts that turned out to be fictional.

October 11, 2017

then there is no reason left to be afraid

what will i lose by loving?
i murmured.

it murmured back.
but there is the possibility that it will hurt.

i can accept that.
it is a small price to pay
for something so important. 

it cautioned as i turned to leave
there is the possibility that you will not be loved in return.

that is not a problem.
i murmured.
as long as i can love.
what will i lose by loving?

it murmured back.

absolutely nothing.

thank you.
i breathed.
 i will set my hand to the plow
and i will love again.


has it really been so long? AAAHHH. love u peaches.