unsettling summer solstice

December 11, 2017
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faith in the dawn.

December 7, 2017


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I long to find shelter in you. Fire season 2017

December 7, 2017
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The audacity of elders.

December 7, 2017
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wildflowers of northern california.

December 7, 2017
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November 2, 2016

I prefer to pee outside where there is no toilet.

Someone once said to me,  ‘I remember you.  When I met you,  mid conversation,  you squated down and lifted your skirt slightly,  began peeing and continued your conversation of welcome.’


Welcome to an abandoned expanse of settler children.  They play all day with their resentment of their forefathers and how the mines wealth never produced much love nor continuity of family.  With an inheritance of broken oaths to succession, they tell you how their parents abandoned them and how they’re building a culture from nothing. They intuite our species has gained little from repeated thirsty penetration of the earth to quicken our progress or development or betterment of each individual human beyond all other species. The children have seen how our hurry spills over and leaks from the piercings of the deepest caverns of our planet. Residents, families, all the generations of our nature witness and ingest.

Four bear’ers fancied a proclivity to garden.

I prefer wild food.  She isn’t so trapped in other’s owner ship sailing across land bases then. But I rarely eat it.

Preference becomes meaningless when all one can define in a civilization is their own containment. Boundary hungry. I say I prefer to eat wild foods but more I mean I am inclined to meet the needs of my species.  I mean I long to bear with our adaption through time. So though I prefer to eat wild, I tend to eat shit as in dead industrial over processed food which is the fruit of settler legacy, empty of nutrition and nurturing.

Don’t worry.

The gardens were and are innately all places one walks so there is no need for containment or identity or pristige.

You see,  many identify themselves as defending the land.

Some call it a country.

But either way there is a vertical claiming of an individual defense of the earth and her cycles.

When really the land is defending us and we are defending our individual participation within the ecosystems as a species. We are defending our knowledge and ability to be in rhythm with other genus.

We are defending our role of reciprocation to all peices of our whole globe.

We do not have nor need the ability to defend the land. Nor do we have or need boundaries or borders.

We need each other.

We need each other’s reflection to know our place in the entire scheme.

We are the land and in turn her cycles defend and tend us.

Remember always,

The land defends us.


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December 11, 2015
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They found her back in a corner.

Poor girl.

kinda like on a bookshelfs dirty corner.

but it was more like that spot underneath all those branches where the duff looks immaculate like even a chuckies feet hadn’t graced it since the pine needles made a fluff of it. That spot you can’t get to cause there’s too many pokey branches in the way.

they found her there.

‘cept it wasn’t there either.

she slipped out of any manifestation of time.

do you think when there was matriarchs, men rose up in liberation of dignity, biligerent?

You think this is all still a ripple of that?


is gender an assault chamber?

is it that we’re destined to war for picking a side?


thats actually where you’ll find her. Behind that question in your brain.

& you’ll miss her like you miss him.

She, though, sits behind each of your doubts as he sits before each of your anticipations of belief.

she & he still exist even when we move past them.


that girl though.

do you remember her… that smile you saw once turning you caught it like a ray of son.

werent you a prism then?

speaking of possibility.


remember that time you thought you could believe in that person forever. No matter who they came to be?

remember when you thought you could do that for everyone and never assume anyone was anything but light?


little, weren’t you once?

love, they made an incling to when they saw you as ripe for eating.



i know you still exist though you feel like you can’t between us.

man, girl.

its tough.

How do you be the perfect ratio of gender to not be assaulted.

this evolution.

is a dance on the battle field.

Front lines everywhere,

but very few backs

pirohuetting in the face of it,

she said she didn’t mind the corner

“fuck visibility!” She said.

“I won’t be a target. She muttered as she rocked.



i never felt like I fit a gender, she evaded.

heavy on the feminine.

off a cliff.

who’s with me?


she was alone in the duff  beneath the branches

& she was safe there


No story to be told.


in the corner of your brain.

alert & guarded.


little, werent you once?

now, still?

ain’t the fear all an act before all your natural swagger?

arent you there my friend?


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The shmuck <3

August 1, 2015
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Oh mountains, Oh shadows.

casting on hill sides.

When people hear the military

they think of weapons & training.

I think of projections of empty puffy chests.

Minerals in mountain crests

being fought over

with whack wizard tricks

homie don’t witch like that.

magics for the all of us.

trust in the dust that’s makin cracks outside & inside of us.

don’t be scared of this breaking open

here’s to hopin momma’s got your back


don’t demand it of her


Military trucks everywhere,

occupation creeping over us again & again.

& telepathic witches

fill the ditches with the undergrowth

beaver weaver’s side step misogynists like it’s just a joke.

Stick & poke acupuncture gets it out of there

my gosh is it a lot to share

dare to know each other’s oddities

& glitches

sweet deer eyes

holding fear instead of weilding it

Shielding is temporary shelter

orbiting the terror & come down

“Bring ’em all home.” They chant in a murmur.

Oh yea?

Who’s house will they sleep over

as the truth slaughters their body

as their spirit seizures in gaudy

incrimination of participation in

a national ego not thought through.

Nobody’s winning friend nobody’s winning.

Little boy temper tantrums everywhere.

Therapists can’t deal with it.


We must be counsel to each other.


Protection in this madness.

The front line is everywhere I step.

“Not a combat veteran” my ass.

Everyone is a combat veteran.

Yes, I said it.

Blame it on the concrete

in our concepts.

Blowing up damned water & emotions

seems toxic for a moment

all the rubble seems troubling

& you reach for your comfort.

front lines everywhere.

lines in which we front for safety.

genocide in access & excess

middle class is the m16 you sleep beside.

I won’t stop & make you go through this with me.

I will not.

You hear me?

I get why you desire such things.

The possibility of such beautiful healing.

I have seen the trust sparkling in my loved one’s eyes.

A hope that sprouts from thoughts like,

“You’ve made it this far & you’re doing great!”

Thanks, bud.

Yes & this hate must be contained,

like nuclear fallout.

I am a planet of a metaphor spinning.

& I’ve tried to settle the orbit of that entanglement.

the daughter of too much birthing a son.

My movements are an attempt at simplicity

of the violence within me implicitly

Move. Make medicine. Send it to elders and decedents.

Cultivate health.

There is no need to stop & focus on my implosion.

Rape culture is blatant everywhere.

Choose your dose & integrate.

No one needs to eat everything on my plate

& yet we all have to

however we can figure out.

It is a lot to move.

So keep moving, meeting seeds & planting.

I have become hyper aware & hyper sensitive

& that is no one’s problem.

Just is.

A swallowing.

No. Not a politician.

I’m a living exhibition

of something that needs to be looked at,

rape culture

is present.

& seems to build with repression.

Feel your body right now.

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The violent narrative of property.

August 1, 2015
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Gather, folks muse, gather.

It takes a place to gather.

& places are policed.

not by those in uniform alone,

but by manners & customs

of righteousness and entitlement.

As is property goes to the richest

weakest white man.

& his parameters of comfort.

No matter how inhumane or inconsiderate.

it comes so subtly & sharp

a huff

a comment about something missing from the fridge or a mess

when really no ill offense had occurred

but the tension raises.

generally in relation to how the most jello like white is receiving attention.

hyper-awareness of how the one most accustomed to wielding power is having their affection needs met.

The violence of property is relative to habits of desire.

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Love through addictions.

August 1, 2015
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We all exist within a culture of addiction.

I am watching my friend kill himself.

I don’t blame him & sometimes that’s called love.

He says he drinks to be happy

& I see that.

He is a great lover in so many ways.

& then there are days,

where he drinks until his guts swell and his brains hurt.

& he’s not sure what stimulation is…

Nevermind, it’s not for me to conclude on.

& I feel him.

there are a lot of punches in the gut happening.

I see my body’s pain in him

& I see hope & trust.

& I understand they are dying.

in each of us.

then death & purging.

I can’t ignore it surging in you.

We’re all here together.

inverse always, I know.

climax stagecraft

I witness you writhing

purging dramaturgy

sweating in toxins

breathe friend.


Help us not block this out anymore.

all of it.

tear jerking vehicle

What do you mean?!

& where are you at in this amnesia?!


Sometimes when I begin a book

it takes a couple chapters to orient narrative

love through addictions

it’s hard to see you slipping

from your body

I understand you can’t really hear what is happening

through the tunnel of inhebriation

Deer love.

I see you through the fog.

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    Mother Lover. <3

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