january 23

the apartment was messy and that's the way we liked it. we spilled coffee beans everywhere and did not gather them up. what you gonna put those beans under the sink and rinse them? nah. we ain't got time. gotta move along. push fingers through hair. pull boots up until the heel hits the sole. open the door wide and take in the world out there waiting. it's no different than jumping into a pool! to step into earth's atmosphere and spin around a few times, click your heels and knock you under the chin. step on the gas and hit the freeway.

despondent at 22

despondent at twenty two she
did not know where to go
what to do

classes had ended she
needed a job she
broke up with
her

she smoked and walked the streets
feeling ditched

filled out applications until
a market took her in
a waitress

her best friend moved
away. by herself the rent she
could not afford to pay

is there hope for me?
she asked the sky

no answer. life came in
little packs like sugar
cup to cup and day
today

the mission

she was in the conference room, speaking, while outside a crowd had gathered, shoving and yelling,  and someone had got behind the security guards and was climbing the roof by a ladder. her voice was punctuated by the underlying emotions like a sky holding weather. you don't know how long it can carry before letting go. they were listening and beneath all the words there was someone who wanted to be inclusive, but who also understood how vital it was to find workers aligned with the mission statement. you wanna mostly walk alongside and mentor those with a similar honest passion and heart for the work. you had to let go of anyone who had other ideas, didn't you? now it seemed as though that thinking would be turned on its head. there were people shaking fences and fists in the air. one could only be amazed by the energy. if only we could gather that energy, she dreamed, and put it toward the mission!

the honest truth

the clock struck five. the sun was eye level and turned the bridge gold. i was in a fight for my life. i ran as fast as i could to the bank. he was standing there trying to look bored. he had a blade taped to his ankle and a roll of cash in his pocket. he laughed to see me running out of breath. just in time. i had my tights on beneath a canvas jacket. we walked several blocks past the homeless encampment with its tents and bicycle parts and people sitting around a fire. did you finish? he asked. i won't take nothing if you're not done yet. i told him i had. i had spent the last four weeks chained to a desk writing three thousand words a day. i pulled the manuscript out from under my jacket and his eyes flashed. he stared at the cracks in the sidewalk. he didn't want me to see them light up. i took the money and bought myself a room for a week at the citizen hotel. i asked for a window to cesar chavez park so i could look down upon the fountain surrounded by benches, with the gratitude one has when one remembers being down and out. i situated my desk just so. it wouldn't take long to tell the honest truth.

notes on a (writing) process

i do not wait to be inspired to write. i block off time every morning to work on something original, often flash fiction, prose, poetry... you know, just words strung together in a way that makes sense to me. might be 5 might be 100. i do not wait though yes, i can feel uninspired. if so, i let go and step away for some time, breathe, drink some water, walk around, talk to the cats, do the dishes, stretch, whatever. just changing channels can do wonders. then i may work on #wip edits as i always have a single wip occupying my every day mind and heart.  focus on the immediate work in progress will bring me back in alignment with the gods. or if it's a really bad morning or im exhausted past the point of coffee making a difference, i may read a few pages of Nabokov, some classic or even a contemporary, or some flashes on wordpress and find my way back to inspired. i like to listen to a little jazz or classical in the background, soft, helps me get there. going out for a walk. prayer. if my wip really is taking off and im getting excited towards finishing, i may devote entire nights or weekends to the work. i have been known to take a week's vacation from my day job and devote the entire time to writing. for me it's mostly practice, the writing process, practice and devotion. i will be reading my work at the Sacramento Poetry Center via Jennifer Pickering this afternoon, and she asked me to talk about writing process for a little bit so im cutting it up here first.

january 18

Today i am preparing some words for a reading... i am fighting... i am grieving the loss of a spiritual teacher... i am celebrating the winter in california... i am breathing... i am thinking and trying to stay in gratitude... i am in the past... the future... i am breathing into the moment... i am curious... i am noticing how sensitive i am... i am noticing how angry i can get... how easily i can give up... how resilient i am... how i use my awareness to find my way back and fight for my right to be fully awake and alive... i am lucky... i am fortunate... my life has been funny... tragic... almost monotonous at times with repititions... never dull... life is a reality worth facing not running from... full of things i love and hate and have to accept... fear and anger and sadness are various forms of energy is what i realize when i breathe into these feelings... and underlying all of the feelings, good and bad, underlying all of these diverse forms of energy... i become enlightened... to the truth... is a wish to live and to love and be loved.

jammies from deedees

How could i harbor ill will toward you when you were wearing those panda bear pajamas? i asked you to take them off so we could go on fighting but you would not. you were making funny sounds that only pandas make. you wouldn't eat the soy burgers i cooked us for lunch. i found you terrorizing all the plants. the kid was still at school. i shoved you in our pet carrier and took you to the sanctuary and released you deep in a forest and coaxed you up a tree and ran away. i was at home reading the newspaper days later when i heard and saw your paws on the glass. you were staring at me and your head was swollen with white hairs growing heavy on your face. such dark circles under and around your eyes. i felt bad but i was glad the kid was at school. i opened the door and you bolted in on all fours. you climbed the staircase by the banister and went to hide. i found you in the laundry basket with all our clothes. i talked to you softly to make you understand. the basket started humming and i realized it was you. all my anger subsided. i could tell your heart was happy so i determined to let you live. i bought myself a new set of ocelet jammies from dee-dees, same place where we got you the panda. remember? now we are ordering all our oats and seeds and salads in bulk from south america. thank god we got a kid with fingers and tech-savvy to help us out. how else would we survive?