make it clear to me angels, and if you can’t make it clear, at least keep me in love

One eveningUnder the stars

In the black of this small town
Moon bright white burning the eyes

Crazy folk passing by jewels in their eyes
Offering me burritos for the ride and
Bright whistling buzzers The caffeine of us all
Kept me up the other night
And then there are moments of this sort
Sunk in Immeasurably Sweet Simple
The heart beats and as it does it expands soft Supple
Without a word beating the whole world
And dancing aimlessly under the stars as though a moving spectacular womb

Today we visit the lumber yard where everything is large. The people walk to and fro against the backdrop of coast hrt redwood, calif hrt redwood, prem redwood, rebar, decking materials, etc. There is rock music in the background and the purr of car engines moving slowly.

I think it is like a shipyard and all of these sailors are docking and refilling on supplies. A horn blows and the captains are glad to be on land again to get some freshly cooked food from women with heaving bosoms, extra citrus on the plates to ward off gangrene. Perhaps they are in from nautical missions smoking their cigarettes on the mainland, talking of Michaelangelo, sowing seedy glares in the midmorning toast. I am the only woman here.

Yet we are not seaward, we are at the feet of the Sierra Madres, the Great Mother Mountains covered in fog today like the ocean, yet not the ocean- they are mountains. Men like sailors walk by, smiling and shooting shit through their teeth, limping shiny-faced from carrying all that lumber or perhaps from falling off the bed last night during a good bunked fuck.

Living in September, Earth Wind and Fire, is playing in the background now. This is a memorable song for me as it was my mom’s ringtone for many years and we are both born in September.

The paperwork is in, we have nails, and wood; off to the job.

the blue wall chunk i really liked

the blue wall chunk i really liked

the last couple days have been quite fun. the day before today i went with stan and the crew to move art around a big warehouse. we pushed and pulled big sculptures around on wheels and with machines and put some 2 year old clay tablets into the kiln to be fired. it was nice to be around special art all day. and Today i started making a bedside table, which is featured below doing a headstand. it is currently in upright position, yet has some more work to be done on it before it can hold objects, like library books and mason jars sporting their fill of water, or perhaps even other found objects recalling specific moments of time and space…

table doing headstand

table doing headstand

the table head is from an oak tree that was felled on the property a while back. the legs go through the table and each leg is painted as it desired. i’m really tickled by it and excited to get it in the bed-womb (as iesha affectionately dubbed it tonight as we sat within its warm walls and drew and smoked and i banged on the drum and we played poetry with our chords, reading some hafiz and mcclure (an unknown and really eternal writer from the beat generation, loving a compilation called of indigo and saffron ((two of my favorite colors))).

i am full of thanks and presently brought here in gratitude.

Animals as friend and kin#

beauty is the way all the way

standards of comparison is each one’s internal eye


there is no comparison
each eternal eye
warm heart oceans
beating we
are caught up in them
forests beating
they are our friend
blow mosquito away
the energy gnos
all the way

“Portals to fall into this deeper slower rhythm of the earth”

Magic and living dreams

Bliss and warm heart oceans
Orgasms gooey giggling toward enlightening

Friends as trees
Clouds leading the way
The earth as our


Create spaces that are magical portals which help us to remember*

“Sobonfu Somé says that in her tradition, that is the Dagara tribal tradition, our expressed grief is food for the spirits of our ancestors. Thich Nhat Hanh says that when we are able to recognize and care for our grief, or any feeling, the ancestors in us are also able to do this. :)
Please continue to look deeply into your feelings. Sometime after reading your post yesterday, an image came to me. We carry unresolved grief with us like heavy objects in a burden basket. Anything left in our basket we pass on to others, our children. This work is your gift to the world.
We love you.”
You can find more of Evan’s writings at

Thanks again, Evan <3

She walks in beauty
She walks in song
She walks in pain and richness
All day long

She walks in dreams and colors bright
Sighting you across the way in grey
Yet your mind in delight

Her outfit was bland, one could say colorless
Yet above her head a rainbow shone
A veritable bright fortress
Of thought and dream
Of imaginashun

The body a cloak beautiful or bland
Yet the works of our hand
The dances of our feets
Bright beautiful babies birthing
From mind’s eye
Eyes closed or alive
Aware or asleep
Peep peep
Cheep cheep
Bright shore birds bursting at the seams
Seems the dreams will be seen

Last night we sat among the stars at the foot of mount wilson with a basket of Chinese food after a long and wearing day full of joy and sadnesses and a mixed bag in between

The night had its affect on us
The mountain air blew into us

And my mind changed, it released (as often is the case around mountains and swaths of trees and their scents becoming me) And we remembered ourselves as spirits, ourselves as souls

And we told our collective stories dreamingly and clear

And last night I dreamed of a few that I know, one absurd and unsettling, unsatisfying and the other settling and fulfilling, though perhaps still absurd in its ordinary dreamlike quality

The smells and sounds of the forest at night
Owl oak drifts
The highway far away
I am drifting and seeing shapes and traveling to far away places I carry inside The year of the introvert
Exploring the imagination, the final charted territory
Riding the majestic steed of the breath, my ever-companion

Owl bright morning bird Sees



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