The Poetry Marathon

the reinvention of self is the embodiment of the tower
a daring endeavor, the stripping of a life, fully shed

to intentionally renounce all that isn’t serving – deserving better
prospects drip honey gold incandescent, horizons beg, dawnings beckon
distantly, homelands insistent, roaring orange unfolding

it will all be brought to ground, leveled traceless in time’s embrasure
stories unfamiliar, free, released from finite memory

then embark on unmarked roads – absolved, asphalt optional
you’ll tear a hole straight through, intently escorted by desert skies

carry on, sinuously, led by intuition
the miracle of reinvention, of a self – embodying the tower

you will be brought to ground, safely traceless in time’s embrasure
claim sanctuary, become undone, adopt versions once discarded
forgotten, never known, the selves preserved, selves undefiled – waiting

will you be waiting too – occupying terminals,
holding up a mirror, without a sign, without a name

arguing isn’t communication
it’s just noise
hardly intimidating or impressive
a waste of energy time and voice

you’re trying to be right
so I know
that you’re not interested in listening
don’t care to learn or grow

throw your fists and stomp feet wildly
so I can respond the way I would a child
see, I can tell by your reaction
that I triggered such passion

with words that hit
just a little bit
close to home

My Dearest Superstar,

I can see that you are still a crying desert. The sweetest monsoon – and just as powerful loud terrifying and unexpected, pure electricity and chaos as you always have been. You’re an intimidating person to those who don’t see how deeply you nourish others, despite your association with destruction. You are still creating growth for everything around you. It’s one of your talents that I always appreciated.

I’m sorry that I never said goodbye – you know that I couldn’t bear it. I shouldn’t have left you alone on that ranch but it was the only way that I could move on with my life. I knew that you’d be safe there. I knew that if I had let you stay, you’d come running back to a city that could have (and would have) killed you. In another life, maybe we could have been honest with each other but let’s face it, you were a hard person to be honest with. I couldn’t understand why you hid so much from me – but after a few years I think I started to understand.

You kept me at arms length from the very beginning. Remember when you told me that I wasn’t Prince Charming, that this was not a fairytale, and I couldn’t save you? I fought so hard to prove you wrong – but you needed to be right. You didn’t know how to be loved. I don’t blame you, I understand why. I watched the way your family hurt you, the way your friends betrayed you, the way men took advantage of you. I watched people prey on you and I tried to keep you safe. Why were you so scared to let me see who you really were? Was it shame? Were you afraid that I’d leave? I don’t think you could ever believe how much I cared; I would’ve accepted all of the darkest parts of you.

But…I deserved to be happy too. We were so young and you needed more help, care, and support than I knew how to give you. I would’ve tried, I just didn’t know how. You didn’t tell me how. So, I hid too.

I never forgave myself for what happened to you when I was gone that weekend. When I came home and you told me everything, I couldn’t even look at you anymore. Not because of you – because of me. Because if I hadn’t lied, if I had been there, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt. I should have protected you. My guilt and grief ate at me constantly and I had to cut you out because you were bound to find out the truth sooner or later. I was terrified of having to face you, of you uncovering everything, of you blaming me for leaving you vulnerable, for him to hurt. I failed you, and you were already catching on.

You’re a perceptive and observant little shit, you know? I think if you weren’t in such a dark place, you’d have figured it all out sooner. I walked on eggshells for months. It was killing me.

I was happy with her. I married her. She was good for me. We were the happiest I’d ever been.

But that shouldn’t have come at the cost of ruining your life and abandoning you. It shouldn’t have. How could I have reached out to try and repair any type of friendship after what I’d done? Why would you even want to speak to me again? I’m sorry. I wish I couldn’t told you that in person. I am truly sorry.

There were many times that you came up in conversations and I couldn’t say anything bad about you – the reality is that I found you exceptional and I never stopped loving you or wanting the best for you. I wish that we’d been better for each other. I wish we could have been healthy for each other. You’re so goddamn outspoken and headstrong and people just… they don’t know what to do with it. I wish it was easier for you. I wish any of it had been easy for you.

I know you beat yourself up about the way things ended, so let me just clear the air. I forgive you. I forgive you and I really believe we both grew as people and learned to love others better, because of the way things went. You’re a good person – you always have been – even when you were hurting.

Today would’ve been my 32nd birthday – I’m glad that you’re spending it writing. I’m proud that you continue to create, and feel, and grow, and love, with the same passion and purity that I fell in love with. You’re one of the great ones, witch baby, and I hope that you can feel me now; looking over you, protecting you, and guiding you the way I couldn’t before.

I’ve sent you some really good people since I left his world – please let them in. Let them help you, and love you, and be honest with them… they aren’t going to run away. I need you to trust me on this. You are not a hard person to love, unless you make yourself unreachable. I’m on your side, and now I always will be. You always said that you have attentive guardian angels and you were right. Josh, Trevor, Marco, Rosie, Laura, Victoria, Amanda, Lance, Michael, and even Jeff… they’re all right here with you too. We will not let you fall, we will not let you be manipulated or harmed, and we will keep weeding out anyone that crosses your path with bad intentions. Just keep going, keep writing and creating and loving, keep laughing, and don’t do anything impulsive or reckless or stupid okay? You’ll be fine, it is all going to be okay, and you are going to be just fine.

It wouldn’t kill you to eat more, or get more sunshine. You’re beautiful, be fucking nice to yourself, “chief”!

All of my love, in this life and the next.

Mr. Doo

she blooms on the summer solstice
soles of her feet bare and blackened
she carefully steps across the dried grass
runs her fingers along the top of the half-broken iron gate
as she talks about Carl Jung, Alan Watts, Lao Tzu

through a sharp and straightened smile she says
“everything happens for a reason”

a ring of golden petals encircle her pupils
each iris, a fluctuating sunflower, shrinking and expanding
wind chime laughter accompanied by the actual clinking
of bells hung throughout the yard
her marred knuckles and knees make her look strong

she cradles a wine glass with chipped nail polish
“it’s all exactly as it’s meant to be”

she scans her garden with subdued intensity
warm shoulders glistening with sweat
the heat has never bothered her – she prefers it
refills the hummingbird feeder and finishes her drink
sits back under the gazebo breathing deeply in and out

a queen in this kingdom, this heaven that she’s created
“there’s no such thing as coincidence”

I stay careful not to interrupt or fidget or pace
flop messily down on the concrete pavement
for I am scared that I’ll crush something beautiful if I’m not still
I want to belong to a space like this or have faith that someday I will
exist in a place with a more tender climate

she regards me as any other flower with it’s own timing
warmly reminding
“magic is real, you just have to find it”

find me in the overgrown
out of tune and out of touch
performing for the wisps
filled with webs and nothing more

position me as you see fit
take a photo and call it art
remove the parts that suit you best
just don’t touch the face

leave the hair the way it is
your favorite feature – keep it long
keep me longing for the day
I learn to play a better role

if you were a song
you would echo through concert halls
permeate every anhedonic state
richly vibrate between the seats
and wet lashes

you’d bring them to their feet
the way you brought me to my knees

if you grew from the earth
your colors would shame sunsets
send them paled in comparison
as you spread vivid and hypnotic
cover every inch of skin

they would roll themselves across you
the way that I once did

if you were a painting
you would be the one I never finished
not for lack of trying
I just couldn’t find the shades
that felt adequate or fitting

you’d hang in a gallery for them to adulate
the way I never did enough

the end of my twenties looms ahead like a finely carved clock
another upright tower chiming with certain destruction and liberation
I blink twice and suddenly I am running late
my relationship with time remains complicated
despite my efforts to change

I still bite off more than I can chew so that I’m seen as agreeable
self worth deeply rooted in how much I can give
I’ve gift wrapped years of my life
believing sacrifice would become painless
if adorned with the right bow

growth only comes in sets of two
I know that I can’t find it separate from discomfort
lightning crashes and clears the rot so that another tree may live
I’m learning to forgive the storms
and welcome what comes after

my hours vanish into the burnout dimension
I will never be this young again even now I am older
there is an imagined squandering of potential
that suggests every wasted second leads me to depletion
every season leads to a decrease in value or novelty

I remember the letter you wrote when you said to “keep on living – live for me”
resilience hasn’t been easy to achieve and frequently
I can’t bring myself to see the hands moving
the pendulum swinging
the dispassionate face

but I have promises to keep
and I am better with promises than time

there are days where it feels more like swimming
drifting lazy days of graceful treading of being pulled sweetly
days of weightless surrender where I can’t remember
how heavy it really is to live
in this body
in this place
in this time

there are days where I try to make light
to make myself lighter in spite of the heat waves
waves that will grow warmer each year as surface taunts and roils
how much can you handle
as it ripples
as it rises
as it builds

there are days where my womb is swollen with lead
where I fight to pretend that it doesn’t ache like an anchor threatening
to turn the potential for creating life into an albatross
how something I cannot see
is a sentence
is a punishment
is a powder keg

there are days where it feels more like drowning
like swift strategic swells eroding layer by layer
until there is nothing left to ground me
how what stood firm and unyielding is stripped
of pounds
of safety
of rights

there are days where my vast sacred is subject to change
shimmering pools become a steel wall surrounding
while the heat is turned up and somewhere there is a voice
forbidding that the thermostat be adjusted
by a child
by a woman
by a frog

The greatest gifts I’ve ever gotten
Are the ones most strive to erase
The traumas and the burdens
Brought me to a higher place

I didn’t create imaginary friends
My sense of reality far too critical
I once asked the tooth fairy for her picture
To prove that she was real

Somewhere in between I did believe
In magic and intention
More times than can be mentioned
Things occurred which challenged reason

In my loneliness I thought
That if I wanted something hard enough
If I wished for it and pictured it
It would surely come to be

Then I found the bead

Small plastic and purple tucked into the dirt
Overflowing with excitement I felt
I’d found the golden ticket or
Been given magic beans

A bead became a seed
One I planted and I planned to grow
A best friend that would love me
And I believed without a single doubt

She’d have a common name
Easy to spell, unlike my own
Dark hair and pale skin
I wanted the opposites of me

I would know her by her favorite color
She’d love purple and butterflies
Long eyelashes and she’d always laugh
And she’d want to hold my hand

What I planted in the sand
Was just a random piece of plastic
But I still believe in her
And I still believe in magic