ritual as routine

When I feel you around me, I believe in our revolution. I hold that privilege tightly.

Piedmont, CA 1.27.13 (a vice president kind of day)

During those early morning hours
before the sun’s ambient light assumes its warmth-
orange crush sunrise-
we bury the obvious.

Open your mouth and change my mind.
Convince me that I’m wrong:
critique has become a mechanism to police,
a consequence of systemic illiteracy.

Wait, did you hear the good news?
Pro-choice is now pro-context.
An attempt to amplify reality yet
the burden of semantics remains

tension of being there

artist: Love Light
artist: Love Light

Echos of news surround us.

That’s why we’ve learned to trust the sources that are closest to us; we assume them to be less distorted. There is catharsis in hearing our own voices.

Internalizing warm winter light’s revelations and recognizing our shadows are valuable endeavors this time of year.

I’ve recently calibrated how I think about boundaries; setting them and maintaining them. Initially, I saw boundaries as limiting. They had been described as methods to protect and ways to feel safe but that assumes too much maintenance on the individual end.

I am left wondering who holds the accountability.

We grow up learning about consent and boundaries the minute we start breathing. We learn the hard way or not at all.

I now see boundaries as better ways to make choices. They are not barriers but starting points. The borders that defined my early existence – rural, isolated, working poor, father’s anger, mother’s depression, lack, distance – so clearly shaped my understanding of choice and, what was often the case denial, that I feel no shame in coming to such an obvious conclusion so late in life.

I wish only to revel in this renunciation of limits.

tethered by the memories of breath

detail_green window

For all those times
I wanted to kiss
your ghetto mouth,
I dedicate
tomorrow to you.

The sunsets are:
harmonic discourse
amplified reflections
amorous endings.

I am missing the thoughts of you.

The chill reminds me of:
warm hands
good stories

I want to believe
certain decisions are mine
to make
but know why that isn’t
always true.

specular reflection

artist: Pakayla Biehn
artist: Pakayla Biehn

We live in a century defined by its curation; we are a nation of tags. Economies are based on it.

I prefer my inspiration random, underground, catalytic, and authentic.

The challenges today are the same we faced yesterday. Too much time has been spent on the details, it is time to move forward with eyes open. Below is a random, catalytic, and totally authentic curated list of good things that happened this past year (since April).

  • sunglasses and an original packet of erotica
  • bourbon
  • bonsai and desire
  • the ocean
  • standing ground
  • stick shifts
  • having a beard
  • pink sunsets
  • warm bodies
  • winter sunshine
  • sick days
  • consensual hugs
  • asking what feels good
  • goodbyes and hellos