Maybe hearts were made for breaking: 
pincushions, fluff-and-stuffed for jab 
after sharp jab. These squishy fists
that clench hope upon hope, ready
to absorb their dashings, spit out
the shards, muscle up like beefcakes
who tear themselves apart daily.

For surely hearts are made to heal,
watered with tears, tended with warmth:
woody roots that split and regrow
in fresh soil. Clumps of sod, damp and 
dirty, hold together, knowing
mostly darkness, unsure of the sun.
Turned over by our spades, they groan

before calloused hands reset them,
ready to nourish new growth.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

the path I walk is not my own
thrown around this loop centuries ago
flowing from ancient springs
flinging spray around this bend
sending sunlight into new creases
these tracks embrace my wheels
feeling warm and worn around me
deviating just slightly with momentum
something invisible that invites
widening the arc by degrees
easily press into fresh ground
round the curve
earth waiting millennia for our feet
meeting here and moving on

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

reset; clouds roll into the valley,
green hills veiled by their rain,
hand presses through earth 
into fog

reset; fingertips grip boulder cracks,
brow-sweat swiped by thumb-base crease,
chest wet, pearlless and
clutched in awe

reset; cold glasses drip in the heat,
fast sidewalks calmed by savor,
slow sips and nibbles
nourishing

reset; long embraces stretch for days,
worn hearts warmed by reunion,
bright eyes shine from candor
and relief

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

skin bits flicker
between fist hits
breaking over
limp wrists lisp spit
wagging tongue pops
flopping fish fins
fileted flash fried
cotton mouth dried
out hide and seek
weak bones cracking
under endless
grief weight heaving
hard fought breast plate
sweaty breathless
click bait lip smack
kissing daggers
sunk into bed
frames bunking with
bloody mind games
funky fear flames
dead names red blames
purple for its
blue stains stretching
before green smoke
blowing yellow 
strange hellos strain
below orange
tape screams bellows
real danger prides
itself on stealth
eyes wide now friends
before shots ring
again marry
hunger to pain
tears rain tears reign
when shame remains
untamed check pulse
check breath touch soft
hug tight send light

hug tight send light

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

everything stands before you
all its plucking and scrape
woosh and creaking, entirety
ready for reunion

uncock your chin to meet it
without suspicion, evenly
eyes spread wide to embrace
dead-set warrior-gaze easing
into curiosity

to feel the wind change
as you step firmly into it
accept it as yourself
slipping under hair and skin
carrying it away
to join again, elsewhere, elegantly

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

What chance have we to conquer our fears
when what we once denied remains unsaid? 

Another cycle on this cursed wheel
finds us flailing for the same fortunes

that fell from grasping hands and greedy palms
that waved with proud distaste for all below,

the blurry crowds that gather for prayers
that go unheard. What chance have they to thrive

when silence still constricts their hoping throats?
Be gentle, friends, so luck and change can flow.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

rise from your roots, following the sun
open gently onto yourself again and again
yearn for moments that awaken your curiosity
give endlessly from your ever growing vastness
blend knowing with feeling to remain present
imagine the world's palms open before you
vanish as our shared history accepts you

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

being is braving
flowing is fierce
seeing is saving
knowing can pierce

armor forged over centuries
ribs hardened around hearts
aching arches and bended knees
heave beneath our broken parts

kneeling renews us
dissonance rethinks
feeling refuels us
listening relinks

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

fold myself like paper 
to find my length
sighing thru the stubborn bits
that resist the bend
not quite creasable 
so crowded with scribbled sentiments
dashed off promises
crossed and dotted
forgotten and blotted
that the sheaves of blank sheets
lined up behind
lay lost from sight
   smell their freshness 
as they slide 
fish slipping thru weeds
wishing on sun wrinkles
fleeting glimmers
waiting to be wonder filled
some new awe to be held

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

This Purse of Doubts you cherish so, 
praise high above, keep deep below, 
that you fill and you pack as you go-go-go,
do you know what it holds? Do its earnings grow? 

I see its weight behind your eyes,
can hear its heft inside your sighs.
I know that it seems a manageable size
to bear through the trudging on which life relies.

But stop and slip your hand within,
remove a coin, so bright and thin.
Now rub off the glimmer of where fear has been
to learn that it's rubbish, so you can begin.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

capillary swell     high tide
moon-murk swirl     full delta
tendrils flooded     big ohs
gone and going     bend and reach
rich mighty    slow    heavy roll
branches   breath ebb   sigh flow
cycular   sudden slips   easy now
ooohhh   red lips round   aaahh
crease   corners return   in
held  full  glowing wide   shine
for  given  word marsh  all  out
to  seep  sweeping  trickle  fan  
  oh   how   deep   our   river   runs   
 I   a m   b l oo d     re   f r e  sh   e  d

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week