a year of memories.

i'd think of February
when we'd drift through the snow
leaving behind footprints that show
four lines, four uneven rows.

i'd think of that time in the rain
back then in April,
you grabbed my hand and i complained
but then you put your hand to my cheek
and kissed me sweet and coy.
i just smiled, and said you silly boy.

and sometime in June,
I'd lay my head on your chest
and slowly, steadily, confessed
that I think I might be falling.

by you, in august, i softly laid down,
our backs on the grassy ground
i breath in to match your steady pace
and looked over at you
and saw love in your open face.

i'd think of october
as a month of coffee and coats
of studying in light filled libraries
quiet, but steady and sure,
we never thought to drift apart.

december, a kiss, short and shy
as we said our goodbyes,
looked one last time into each other's eyes,
and watched as the love died.

cherry trees.

and maybe we would have been good for each other
had we waited to grow into our own bones
like a tree grows into its leaves
but darling, you would never believe
that we met a little too early, when we were still kids
minds like empty containers without lids
running around, looking around for the person
we thought we were.

i thought we could grow together,
holding hands if we need each other,
like two blooming cherry trees in the field.
but neither of us could hold on and yield
and like the river curves away from the mountains
we moved in our own undulations
pulled further and further out to sea
without reaching out to where the other might be.

it saddens me to think of us like lonely
pieces of driftwood, and so instead i'd think
if i were a lighthouse, I would call you back home,
take my bulb and let it shone.
but I am not yet rooted in the earthy ground,
and so i let you go without much of a sound.
maybe when we're taller and wiser
poured into this mold we made for ourselves
maybe then we'll still fit like we did back then,
holding hands like cherry trees
all tangled up in each other's leaves.

something like love.

i swallow the sun and let its delicate flames
curl into my lungs like the heat of a California forest fire
it fills them up, expanding like a hot air balloon,
pressing together, congesting my heart between them
punching the tender muscle black and blue, blood dripping
down into pericardium, and I am surrounded by red heat.

my breath catches in my throat, burning on my tongue,
while lifesource chokes the pulse in my arms. soon,
i am blue, lips shivering, toes tingling, and eyes blurring
stuffed full with cotton, and now i am falling.
and there is no greater fall than this.
freefalling through the dreams like Alice
in a Wonderland of flames, licking at my skin
like mischievous zephyrs riding on a current.

I can only hope, that you will catch me at the
bottom of the sky, where the land caresses
the under belly of the luminous sun.
but for now, i feel the blood in my veins
stilling, and i am unsure.
I only know this feeling, like falling
drowning in soul magic, soft like fairy wings
and zinging like static against my teeth
while i kiss you goodnight.

summer wine.

they laid their heads down on the dirt path
in between rows upon rows of ripened
sweet pinot noir vines, aromas thick like syrup in the air

they could almost taste it in the space around them.

in between feathered leaves and dark rooted vines,

lush-deep-majestic fruits, tightly wound and heavy.

light flickering on its surface, like the light on their faces.

dark stain on their lips from the wine they drank

and the kisses they'd shared, in between the laughter

that flickered like an old oil lamp as the air rolled past. 

they took a sip of wine, looking at the other over

the bottom of the bottle as the taste lingered on their tongue.

tastes of raspberry and cherry and currant melt like wax

congealing with sweet reddened grapes, and then they kiss. 

and, then, there it is, the hot-cold flash of exaltation of summer love 

and the blood rushing fast and sparkling like dry champagne.

they let their hands clench in the dirt, holding it 

as if they could capture a part of this earth, this bearing earth, 

much as this day had clenched their own hearts.

but for now, they laid their heads back down, and let the air
wash over them, while the sunlight crashed through
the leaves and berries and honest to god sweetness of summer.
a bottle of pinot noir between their heads,
open and breathing, half of its life drank out of it.

speed up, slow down.

sometimes the words blurt out,
splashing onto a page like the spilled ink that you
once stepped in and left footprints
behind you as you ran away.

my writing is always a frenzy, 

can't stop the letters from clawing out of my throat

like knives scratching me from the inside.

and oh, my heart is a ticking clock: the hands

speeding faster and faster as i look at a
page with lines and lines of space, 

can't erase my thoughts, cause

i'm moving too fast now as

stanzas fly by, but they're

awkward and heady,

so calm down, girl, 

it's alright now, 

just breathe
and, 

stop and think.

but i just lay it all out as 

my body bursts to its seams,

lungs pressed down and starched,

systems still and steady, careful stitches
of skin undone as the surfeit of phrases move

through my blood like living cells.

i hold down on the wound to keep
the blood from seeping out and about,
clotting words making a jumble of thoughts,
and so i lay it all out, for only then, can i finally breathe.