There is something amazing about being pushed to the brink,
to your breaking point, then being pushed again
and discovering
that you're stronger than you thought.

horizon-line at dusk and
thirty-five thousand feet
lava red fades to deep periwinkle
the hazed world below
missed it hours ago.

flying into phoenix,
and at once, the desert
was replaced by rows of
identical houses
as far as the eye can see,
even from the plane.

My heart fell out of my chest.

This is going to be harder than I thought.

We wear names of companies on our every shirt,
then become offended when athletes do the same.

Is it for self-expression?
The need to belong?
Because brown was really his color?
What does aeropostale mean to him ( Read more... )

When I was in Ithaca,
the running joke was that
my heart was three sizes too small.

The good news,
now that I'm no longer there,

is that in this moment,
if feels about two sizes
too big.

I think I'll keep it.

nearly every day for the past few weeks,
I've woken writing a poem, then scrambled, half-asleep to find paper, a cell phone, some way to record the words before they leave.
It's a wonderful way to wake.

Today's?

"Give me back my egg!",
speckled the hen.

and all I really want to do is go get a copy of Abbey's "Monkey Wrench Gang", and go to work.

I love this desert. I'm not really sure I can come back here.

at the end of these pages,
who are you?

can you feel?
think?

believe?

are you making a diffference?

have you loved?
could you do it again?
are you fighting for something?
do you have a friend you could tell anything to?
have you lived?
are you still living?
do you want, want tomorrow ( Read more... )

letters- some code in the language encoding coded words ( Read more... )

so much is wood, oil, tree, stone.
we're still in nature,
we've just stopped her from growing.