Tuesday, July 27

The Miles Between Us, Part Two

still a bit by the abundance of delusion i let in
now looking more clearly past the smoke and mirrors of those cold winter days
inhaling the clearing air
of breath and mind in this space
like while at the ocean
at sunrise
with nothing but a shell and a smile
and some blackbirds to welcome me

diverging from that desolate dry desert path
i awoke one morning and noticed that under it all
i was actually filled with surprise
like surprise of the sort where you awaken to warm sunny summer days and laughter
a cool morning after a sticky New England July night
huevos rancheros
and strong family connections

now allowing this reality set in
perceiving things as they actually are
learning from my fall
that it was just a deep teaching is all
of simply seeing someone as they are
seeing through the delusion of what you'd hope them to be
of what i should be
of who i am
and who you are
of growing older
and wiser
creating space
a place for more depth to arise

so today
this self worth is blowing me away
like those early summer dandelions
after their bloom
flying on the wind
directionless and content
seeding themselves in the fertile soils of her body
yet this morning i'm no longer spending breath
wishing for a renewed connection
just a continued growing
a healing
facing a deeper more penetrating care
one that comes from within

gave that rose quartz back to the mountain today
for some reason i feared doing that
thought it meant letting you go
realized thats exactly what i needed to do
she took it back with an open heart
and i trust that one day yours will be too
transform the pain infused in that heart into true love
for you
for you
by you
of you
for you

still wondering what to do with that crow
took it down from the wall
along with that drawn dragon heart
thinking i'll set them both on fire
watch them fly up higher and higher
with my intentions
like my self-worth
like my growth
i'm so ready to open
bust open
no more grasping
just surrender to this
to me
to all there is

on this full moon in Aquarius
three days prior to my 30
i say goodbye
i release you
up up up up up up
i fly
and away we go
into the disintegrating imaginary capsule of time

its too bad i can't even say thank you
though part of me wishes i could
and part of me does
thank you
cause there was hope there
of an open
save for a short moment
mostly now
i'm just becoming more aware of these growing miles between us

Tuesday, July 20


She began her morning in a sinking blue lake surrounded by white sands. In that time she saw four images standing there, or perhaps floating, she's still not completely sure. Nonetheless, she began the timed descent into meaning.

When she opened her eyes, the first thing she saw was a bloodied set of bones. Eyes gorged out. She wondered what happened. Figured it must have been unearthed. There was something in there about the rawness of it all, of blinders and misconceptions. Mostly it comes down to delusion. But doesn't it all anyway?

Then there was this box. It was black and had four tiny little teacups inside. Alice in Wonderland style. Wishing now for the Mad-hatter to appear. Something about the memories of healing came out towards the end, but in the interim it was mostly sealed shut. This box has deep sunset red designs on it, swirling about like the sacred geometric patterns that were later pinned into her spine.

After that a person appeared. They seemed a bit disillusioned and quite hidden. All wrapped up in some natural fabric, they decided to find rest on top that box. A Pandora's box. Now with a mummy on top. The look on their face is hard to describe. It seemed as if they had finally found peace in the shroud. Eye's remained shut. Closed tight to all else but the immediacy of their experience.

The fist that stood guard in front of that box was full of rage. It just stood there, as if it had always been part of the story. Part of that scene. And it was. It was just more hidden is all, more repressed is more like it and now it was just showing up. Just showing up.

When the vagina appeared, the conversation ceased. It was like all thoughts were now on that. It seemed unusual at first, and she didn't want to acknowledge it. Just too much shit coming up here, now. Just too much. That's when the person wrapped in natural fabric decided to make their way on top of the box. Just keep it closed, don't worry. No violence here.

More swirling designs, landing into nothing, yet becoming whole. Tears falling. Patterns breaking. Seeking. Mostly seeking now, to find her way out of this created mess.

Monday, July 19

When your short on answers, dream

Finding ground in a sea of fire of floating skulls and bloodied feet
never felt so fitting
watching it
like wax
fallen from the rainbow sky

creating illusions out of reality
wondering about dreams in this waking time of moths and snakes
meandering about
searching for their kin
their way
their truth

standing on this side of time
one can see that there are realms of multitudes
incarnate within each and every moment

"she straddles conventional boundaries and eludes definition"


Who? Me?
Madrone. Writer. Bayan. Lover. Phoenix. Dragon. Christina. Radical. Marie. Feminist. Prew. Daughter. Origin. Artist. Nardelli. Fighter. Ryushin. Studier of the Way.
  1. ...But none of its real anyway...

is how I'd describe it
rapid unraveling
is how it feels

Sunday, July 18

Explosive Impermanance

Trying to grasp something never carried me beyond
gate gate paragate
its like there's always a bridge to cross
and as I'm standing over the nebulous waters of the Chama
i can still see Scorpius reflecting back into the timeless realms of ancient Greece
even through these muddied sands of time

deathless now
she's standing amongst the banyan grove of truth
surrounded by the skulls of the dead
heart first towards the morning light
cause even he makes his way up and over that great cycle floating in the middle of nothing
even he makes the effort to surrender to movement
every single day
he comes to shed light on yet another pervading dark time

limitless possibility seems to rests in the space
of sleeping children
awakening to impermanence
to doubt and trust
and fear of this
running amok the shiftiness of sand
on the ocean of this story
down hill
into the crevice of the mother

just now
a smile forms on her breast
and in his heart
an opening crashes into the boundless potentiality of it all

Saturday, July 10

Bare Bones, Bare Skin

Its a letting go
of one memory
and then the next
and even though their fragmented
like the drops of water
from the bucket her and joey used to swing incessantly in circles as kids

she's becoming bedfellows with the depths of desires as they fade away
and as the ripples disappear into the shadows
she finds that this is a possibility for her 
its not just magic for all the others to do

cause there once was this person
a person called me
who fell deeply into spaces too tight to possibly comprehend
once again




it was not until this sunrise
after a long night of watching the moon move and the sky shift
above those sleeping eyes
that the notion of moderation quickened inside
and amongst that morning glow
she herself began to grow
but this time she started blooming from the inside

and then she awoke
from that dreary dream of desolation and despair
of clinging and aversion
one full of gloom and fear
it was through this that she realized 
truth is just a scratch under her precious olive skin
so soft
much too special to let just anyone in

siting here now
she reflects on her
and her
and her
and him
and once again
yet for the first time
she sees it

like for real
she sees it

that there's always love

that there's always skin

and when its bare its best
like in the desert of simple
of open hearts and fearlessness
like in the most splendid moments of bliss
of bodies
skin to skin

its there
under it all

stripping it away now as fast as she can
she's pulling it back
until she uncovers bare bones
under bare skin

here she is 
yet for the first time
like this
she herself

Tuesday, July 6

Forgotten Languages

He came to me in the dark of the night
under the street lights of Guadalupe
speaking in languages I've never known
bestowing blessings upon me unlike any other
then shunned
by the same world that took his away

I told him he's better then this
that deep down his language is preserved in his heart of hearts
and in his soul of souls lives an old wise man
full of survival and power
a shaman
a healer
a leader of worlds stolen
I told him that in the collective body of his indigenous people
lives truth
and that's one thing they can't take away

He came to me
heart wide open
outside of this barbed-wired heart one night
speaking in tones of purity and insight

And even through his drug of choice
the messages were clear
and in them I realized that
intentions speak louder then any words

I've wondered about him since
prayed for him and his people
felt immense gratitude for his blessings and presence

And somehow
even amongst all the shit
of stolen lands and ways
darkness surrounding survival
he gave me more then I could have ever asked for