stand for life
when the world wants spectators
stand for life
arms taken up and blown apart
stand for life
rivers teem with crossings
stand for life
in craters in canyons
stand for life
as the ground tips underfoot
stand for life
and the glory of creation
stand for life
whispered bedside prayers
stand for life
cupped hands and soft skin
stand for life
the stitch the song the simmer
stand for life
eye crease and furrowed brow
stand for life
how every line becomes

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

Awe strikes me
like a match—a
flash of brilliance, a
sudden warmth—before
settling down to a
cooler flame, ready to
pass from stick to
wick like a morning
glory vine reaching
across a chain-link fence.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

You’re ready.
You’ve mulled and meditated
and considered your options.
You’ve weighed and waited.
You've bit your lips
and slid your right thumbnail
under the nail of your pointer
about a billion times.
You’ve wondered what if
the worst happens
or something just bad enough
or if there’s a chance
even the very slightest
that this will lead
unalterably
to your untimely demise.
But it’s time.
Now go, love,
and live.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

It’s so easy, isn’t it,
to clutch the cloudy
cloak around our necks,
hunched and hooded,
hiding in the rain,
and forget the sun,
as if it isn’t still
shining just there,
as if it won’t ever
warm our skin again,
as if Annie, after
belting it out every night,
snickered and whispered
“suckers” under her breath,
as if we didn’t have
a light all our own,
just as constant,
just as warm.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

Not to speak ill of our elders—
like Summers
like O’Hara
like King and Khan—
but have you tried
taking a sip of something hot
before raising your gaze
to your adversary and
pointing out the sharpness
of their tone
or
blinking once slowly and
eversoslightly tilting your head
like a confused dog wondering
how it could possibly be
that this motherlover doesn’t see
the wolf that sits before them
able at any moment to leap
teeth flashing
and tear out their jugular.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

build chords toward
a higher plane / hold
the line / level up / be
all / eat / prey / slay bae
live / pro / gress / ion / al

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

We hold our hopes so feverishly,
first the flush, then blanch of our fingers.
We forget their fragile bones. They crunch
in our fists—wee ribs puncturing lungs
that would breathe deep purples in our souls
if we let them grow. Loosen our grip
and we find their crumpled forms bounce back
like petals unfolding, wings unfurled,
buds and breasts refilling and readied
as our knuckles regain their color.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

Strength, they told me,
builds not from strain
itself but in
the breaks— 

a needed rest
to let the notes
linger—

the lion tamed.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

Neighbor, spare a spoon?
Whether king or key,
love knows no closed doors.
We all serve its grace,
cup our hands to pass
the warm bowl, ladle
and loaf. Care and crown
bowing before bare
cupboards and empty
hands, unlocking
them, filling the void
to open it further.

---

love notes
a ritual to start the work week

Clouds may thicken
before they float,
those supposed shadows
that splash and flop
as the tides swap.
Sapped, like sheets made
blank again, or
a shared hatchet,
dull and rusty,
after the gush
and roll, their gray
lightens, sliced gold.

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week

belly and breast
begging for rest
for action and 
empathy for
doing and done
held in careful 
hands and let fly
into orbit
yellow powered 
by blue green lit 
up with red these
oppositions 
churn up the soul
stormy and whole

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love notes
a ritual to start the work week