Gather

Observatory. November 2024. Image, my own.

Gather

So here we gather
On this bright and
Dark day in the Fresh
World, to see if there
Is a turkey of love
Between us– siblings,
cousins, lovers, parents,
Friends. And there it
Is– LOVE– carved out
For us in some miracle
Since the creation of the
Cosmos scuttled us
All together on this blue-
Green blessing of a planet
Quantum journey, accidental
Adventure, maybe in another
Life we don’t know one another
We haven’t stood witness
To one another’s joy and
Pain. But here, now
We are the people we
Know and love because
Of particles of song shared
Between us, and mud
Fights on Thanksgivings
Long ago, and stories that
Have connected us all
Bringing us to this
Moment– to Gather to
Settle softly into miraculous
Gratitude. Thank you
I love you. Forgive me, I forgive
You. I love you. All love.

Art Center. November 2024. Image, my own.


Other Ghosts

So now there are other ghosts
The angels of the past have
Come to comfort and protect,
To bring peace and stability
I don’t know how I know, but
Others feel it too, they enter
They awe, I feel the ancestors
In the daily spirals of
My existence, the soil of
My backyard, the song of
The trees and birds in the
Ancient ash. Many others
feel them, too, and tell me
They are near, they are
Present. I know that I am
Not the only one who has
Ever been separated from
My alter, my shelter, my
Building, my dreams torn
For a vision of the future
I could not ascribe
I’m learning each day
That each ancient has
Been sent as a guide
The present and the
Beyond, they’ve become one

Fall-Winter Bridge. November 2024. Image, my own.

One

Of the most powerful
Things happened to me
And I can both be humane
And protect myself against
Smiling scoffs, unkind people
Who would make a mockery of
Pain, I am so glad that I can live
My life wild and free, I was
Given a second chance at
Love, at happiness
You too?
I will never take that for granted,
My joy– that joy will go on to
Fill me, myself, my people
And all the rivers of song

Community Garden. November 2024. Image, my own.

The “Last” Great Thanksgiving

That’s what the menu read
And then they were all gathered
In one place—humans—with the
Most similar genetic makeup of
Any group of sapiens on planet
Earth. Siblings. And it was good

Woods– lovely, light, dark, deep. November 2024. Image, my own.

October

Snake Creek with a Rainbow. Image, my own.

Beautiful Boy

In my line of work,
I get to see things
And hear things
That many people do not,
Will not, see and hear
Personal narrative: a genre
Used to tell one’s story
To put your truth into
The World, tell your
Life to the Universe
Of all living things
To say, to see,
To be seen
To listen
These are very tender
Moments—actions, braveries
Moves—today a young man
Quietly said to his classmates
Boys want to be Beautiful
Too, boys want to be
Given flowers and trust
And the opportunity,
To be Vulnerable
Boys want to
Be seen and soft
And before you scoff
Please know that to put
Eyes on this young man
He was “normal”
Which doesn’t exit
But he wasn’t some standout
He wasn’t crying to be
Noticed in a needy, cloying
Way he was sincere
Brown eyes shining
And serious, he said again,
Boys want to break down
Boys want to be treasured
And saved, and tendered
Boys are complex and
Layered, multi-faceted
And so easily shattered
So easily loved
Beautiful boy

Lacrosse. Image, my own.

Melt:
for the hottest October on record

things melt like banana
popsicles on hot sidewalks

hearts at the cuddle of
a tender puppy’s nuzzle

sun as it sherberts into sunset,
dreamy scoops of carnelian, fuchsia, crimson

water being sublimated into
sediment, becoming sludgy mud

metal silver when heated to one thou-
sand seven hundred and sixty-three degrees

falsity as you live in truth in the world
as it is, not as you wish it to be

light refracted and gloriously dispersed
through water into the entire color spectrum

butter bubbling, sizzling in the fry
pan in anticipation of the next repast

bodies into one another, warm
with the savior-vivre of desire

Aspen in October. Image, my own.

Sitting in Cars with Moms

Listening to music with abandon, shake it
Hearing a favorite podcast in a vacuum, rapt
Slumping over the steering wheel, emergency
Crying, tears pouring down cheeks, salty
Praying as if there is no tomorrow, apocalypse
Laughing raucously with a friend on the line
Changing the ka-billgionth diaper on the seat
Resting the eyes at the thought of dinner, cook
Wanting for a touch a hug a support, embrace
Kicking back the seat for a true nap, snooze
Reading a book while a child is at music lessons
Waiting for babies in the carpool line, patient
Scanning a prescription before returning to sickness
Sipping a drink in silence while ruminating,
Pondering the existential crises of humankind
Yodeling to an Oktoberfest hit, hot 100
Brushing back the hair, mustering a smile, love

Rabbit Brush. Image, my own.

Hope Feathered in Me Today

Rose like an owl in the dark
of night. Off on an important
measure. A simple key into what is
Take no more than you give.

On this day we celebrate
The now— the moment— what is
As it is what we have to celebrate
Looking into the moon-face of our children

Listening to their dreams. Holding
a lover after a frozen lamp-lit tramp
Into the pitch-dark night
Drawing lines across a page,

A stone, a landscape to remember
Each leaf outlined, sepia veins,
Each intricate brace of existence a
Falling into one another– hope

Barn and Timpanogos. Image, my own.