its a tits to the wind kind of day
with graceland on the radio
simon singing my soul to church
who am I to blow against the wind?
I wish I could grab you
tether myself to the earth
root you in my heart
but wild birds
fly free

their story started long before a corner booth in a dive bar on grand
with burned down houses and dynamite thrown into well-intentioned lives

under the sound of the waves from a highway sea
they remembered each other
remembered themselves

There was a picket fence I wanted. A yellow door and dinner on the table at 6. There was the vision turned reality and the feeling of love and family and settled that I hoped would come. Instead, my spirit stirred. You weren’t there. I was alone in the architecture of a dream. Here with unraveled hopes and…

we write the words on our skin
carve them ’til they scar

feel the pull of the stars on our cells
the waves of truth ebbing and flowing with each new moon

I grew up in a small agricultural town in Northern California. We lived in a 4-room 900 square…