Stop for the Love

We 

    lurch forward 

            like a vehicle

                    running 

                        out of gas

"putt putt putt" fast 

then stop 

        then fast

                    a body heaving with the weight of overstimulation

eyes gone blurry from

        never seeing the horizon

jaw bracing for a strike

                                        ears ringing from tension

                chest shallow pipes clogged with preparations

                                we look around for an external lifeguard buoy

                                not realizing we aren't in the water

everyone looks to be moving smoothly

        because their jerky pace perfectly paces our own

I stop

and

feel an explosive pressure

begging me to keep going

storm clouds form,

        thunder roars

                no one else can see it

                        but I can't keep doing this anymore

I am going to walk or stop but not

rush to wait in a jerky infinite intellectual hamster wheel of thought

                                    the showers dump a torrential downpour

                                            vibrating my fascia with salt water

until

the 

buzzing 

bustle 

of 

fear 

of 

falling 

makes me 

                                                                        Water

and my heart drops its bristles

I unclench my fist and

raise my 

Heart into the world

to spread love.

70 Years of Trauma

 70 years of trauma

a ball of yarn

wrapped so tight

the fibers afraid

so they poked out in spikes

70 years of trauma

a plant grown in the shade

light blocked out

by a plant grown in the shade

perpetual noise and motion

to the echo and locate

a spot in the sun

determined to avoid being shaded out

not realizing their perpetual positioning

burned a hole in the ground

creating a circle around them where

no other plants can grow roots

70 years of trauma

once seen and not heard

they gobble up oxygen like

a photosynthetic thanksgiving feast for one

none left for others to feed their brains

spinning and spinning

yarning and yarning

I find myself yawning and yawning

waiting and waiting

for him to see himself but

70 years of trauma

have made his eyes a danger Doppler

a blind sun-seeking heliocentrist

a sweet smelling brugmansia

only

free to express their fullness in the dark of night

singed by the harshness of reflected light

on their delicate petals

born the sun of wall of rocks

Cold

and

Dark

poorly constructed and Dangerous in the wind

meant to roam like a wildflower

I see the light through a pinhole

in the wall tapestry

now gone but he holds up a

sheet printed with bricks and

blows on it constantly

trying to be his version of the wolk

yet I choose to see the light

and I dim my ears and

turn up my heart's brightest

light and I hope he sees it's 

just sheet now and he can put

it down, know the oxygen is for all

of us

trust the light will not burn him

and express the sweet flower

he has in his heart.

Cold Plunge for the Mind and Soul

 Being present feels like movement

Like an earthquake pulling in both directions at once

Like trying to scream into a plastic pillow

Screens as hamster wheels

Spinning still and spooling 

Future yarn to unravel

Too tight to loosen the knot here

I must take a cold plunge for the soul

Only quiet still time can unleash

The Chinese Finger Trap between the ears

Sounds pull the ears toward them

And increase the pressure

I must soak them in 

Cool cold silence

The slumped shoulder of solitude separate

The furrowed ears

Because when they're up high

They squeeze pressure 

Into the neck

Hot air that can only be released by

Dragon Breath

I get to camp and

My skin becomes 

Heavy wet rags

My heart a plumb bob

Pulled down by the dense liquid

Pressurized by modern society

Into concrete blocks

They make me feel trapped,

I want to run from

The grey 

Until I see only 

Green

Blue

and

 Brown

Colors that trigger

A memory

Through my eyes and nose

An opposite charge that

Magnetically draws out the water

Like the leaves down a stream

Birds come to sing after the rain

Passes

Porque Camino

 Cuando no tienes manera de distraerte,

de esconderte atras de la piedra de comodez,

de tenerque depender en tu mismo absolutamente,

el viento te vacia la mente y llena los ojos

con la historia y el futuro que no existen y

al final te quedas con un espejo hecho

de respiros profundos que te hacen preguntar

quien sos, quien fuiste y quien quieres ser.

Full Moon Vibes

One moon

New moon

Shadow gone

Layers shed

Cells relaxed

Resistance eclipsed

Full relaxed presence

One Poem

I've spent my life in cities

but my soul is in the soil,

under the concrete,

ready to open up and breathe.

My roots graze the surface

of the concrete

like a strangler fig,

never finding stillness

until it finds open soil,

there it can grow.

The one star in the polluted sky at night, 

Jupiter and I draw one another in to the past

when we danced

before Earth was Earth,

reunited with

family

once again

in the deep dark desert sky.

My skin became concrete

from so many years

in the city.

My soul sneaks out the window

of my nose

in the forest

to party with

the terpenes 

once seen as but timber.

We meet in the forest and remember

the wild part of us

that will be never captured.

It lives on the wind.

It invades the city

with

raindrop paratroopers

coating our casas

at night

and impregnating our dreams 

with wilderness.

It blows in between

dust particles and diesel fumes

to tickle our wild side.

To survive their entrapment

and divorce from the horizon

eyes are capped with screens

to temporarily pause the wildness.

But it cannot be stopped.

It is in each breath

you take

and take it shall

you

to where your wilderness lies.

Beyond the lies 

you tell yourself.

One step.

One choice.

You are one breath

from connected

and

yet connected to

the whole cosmic soup

in every breath, drink, poop or

reflection of light.

The entire universe of light

is reflecting differently

because you are here.

Love it fully

and

shine that light back out

into your cosmos.

Cone Climbers Closing Statement

Remember You

Some of you came as  young bud feeling the spring sun for the first time.

Looking upon an infinite green carpet of needles.

Looking upon an unknown future of pollination, rainfall, fire 

and a potential long path of travel through

a dark place before you can race to the sun again,

in nature's cyclical tree climbing competition.

May you give yourselves the determination of a young bud and

meet the sun daily with preparations for your

critical, challenging and illuminating journey

to becoming a tree climber at the top of the canopy.

You are the bud of reforestation.

We have given you four days of light.

This is only the beginning.

The rest is your work.

Blessings on your journey tree lovers.

We need your best.

And so it is.

Ben