Old hauntings float along my brain-creases,
airy refrains humming with summer bugs,
counting miles by hundreds. Souls by millions
crowd to micro-canyons under my skull.

Pin-head polkas and salsas slip ’tween
buzzing byways, all beep and honk, gridlock
brightened by these rush-hour street dancers,
small blooms opening spaces, forcing pause.

Quiet. Can you feel that one slow two-step
stalling the amygdala express bus?
The tapping toes of its gaunt passengers,
impatient to work my nerves? They can wait.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

restoring balance
     after a break
steadier footing
     in used shoes
new heirlooms
     warming/snug

even narrow paths can support our heft
     loads heavy on our shoulders
lightened by infinite angels

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

     Her wisdom waits
no rush to revelation
quiet canopy conceals
inevitable truths

     Humble rags worn
holy with heavy use
practiced purification
countless small circles 

     Hair smoke screen
legato plucking loops
unknotting knowledge
strand by strand

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

my coffee wants me to do a jig
or the hokey pokey
or to show up early,
but my computer is slowing me down.
     go fig.

five-day-old flowers flop and unfurl, alternately;
updates fail; a restart is required.

sitting here turning over a new week,
new cards—no leaves to speak of—
possibilities do-si-do between my temples,
squares bending into circles
like ice-cleaved stones
after a thousand years of melt.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

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.

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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.

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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

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week