there’s no way to get lost now

heads turn &
360: we’re infinite!

we drift to familiar
in the unknown.

fingers graze
& we just spin,
eyes locked
hands locked
lips locked
arms are props
& blurry remnants
turn to swirls
while our words
drift gently
through time
like paper airplanes
in a light breeze.

we found that plane yesterday
we found that plane today
we found that plane tomorrow
we peel open the wings
& see the only truth revealed…


Years of Practice Makes Perfect



infinite moments

bridges connect
two places.
they make it possible
to not choose
if just for a few moments.

for a second
there’s no “over there”
in either direction…
there’s just the ground
i’m standing on…
sometimes leaping on…
sometimes skipping on…
sometimes dancing on…

& looking up
there’s just my sky.
a sky i don’t have to share.
a sky with answers
that are the perfect solution
for forever…

water rushes past
& i close my eyes
to let these moments sink in…
to pretend this moment is infinite.

of stars & seashells

the breeze overlaps silence
& in the middle space lies bliss
a place where lavender leaks
quietly into the air
& dreams are propelled
by a black tower fan
set on low.

wind chimes gently chant
melodies of tomorrows
& tomorrow’s tomorrow
& the moments stuck
in the past
that we try to thread
seamlessly into
the melody.

lights flash

but tonight
I’m everywhere…
most importantly, home.

& as I gently drift
to thoughts hiding
in my innermost
bits of soul,
I’m quite sure
if someone placed
their ear
to my belly
they’d hear the ocean.


under window embers we awake
anxious fingers ready to swirl, poke
& swipe the curtain fog away

(& just as effortlessly)
we hop gracefully
from thought to thought
on the tips of our big toes
in calligraphy spins
& courageous leaps
upon lily pads
we lay down
in a messy fashion
that’s perfectly
in order

the world whispers
(into anxious adventure hungry ears)
“thanks for the show.”

all we can do
with those words
is scream
good morning
back into the hills
w/bellowing voices
that skip through
the atmosphere
with an eagerness
that only exists
once you’ve
brave lips
& entered flight


“I was falling. Falling through time and space and stars and sky and everything in between. I fell for days and weeks and what felt like lifetime across lifetimes. I fell until I forgot I was falling.”


mind the gap.

destination set
a monthly agreement that
we can go anywhere
anywhere, within bounds.

you’re moving,
but reality is
the still blurring
& whirling by
eyes fixed
unable to distinguish
the messages
the world spits
in our way.

then there’s something new…
a focus
a stillness
where the world stands still
& it’s safe at last
as we decide on or off…
and it all starts over again
till we get to our safe destination.

mind the gap.

it’s a brave belief: home is wherever you are

it’s a brave belief: home is wherever you are
city to city, you’re there, always there
in heart & ritual…
cinnamon rolls on rainy mornings
lattes & dreaming on the way to work via ferry
hot chocolate via a camping stove
rivers rushing, sticks thrown
& skipping stones
13 (that’s a record – let’s redefine luck)
headlamps leading the way
to your evening
atop a mountain
looking out…
you’re just part
of this giant thing
you want to “get”
front row seats to meteor showers
(the top of your car)
with a boy you mock
for buying peach flavored beer
while you stay up
way too late on a school night
backpacking to overlook a field
where you’re able
to just be by yourself
among 14 strangers
one who has fallen for you
in three days
slightly conservative
with your days
slightly reckless
with your heart
road trips down the coast
flying kites in the starlight
just because no one else
thought of the idea
bonfires next to waves
your dog chases
surfing alone
during shark season
& eating pumpkin pancakes
during sunrise
next to a sandcastle
carved with love
one only gets from believing
you’ll be here forever
even when living across the planet
can’t everywhere be ours?
a deep desire
to be known
an always pressing need
to figure “it” out
five cities later
maybe it’s finally
a truth
that it’s still scary
to define the end
but that the end
isn’t so scary anymore
we are the rituals
we are the reckless kisses
we are the memories
we still wonder about
and if we live right
we are the moments
everyone else dreams
they made time for
exploring and
figuring out
where home really is…

mornings: poetry & gratitude

i kick the leaves covering the sidewalk that’s becoming familiar.  the air is crisp.  the sun is peaking out, but the rain is starting to fall.  the gray consuming.  i drink lattes and fall into day dreams containing poetic thoughts about what life will bring.  mornings fuel poetry & gratitude for me.

my dog licks my face.  while walking she is interrupted by a squirrel.  her focus constant.  when he scampers away she trots happily down the path again, unaffected by the fact she didn’t get to say hello yet again.  she looks back every now & then to make sure i’m keeping up, & i sometimes hide behind trees until she chases me down with her tongue kisses while jumping on me to say she has triumphed over my challenge.

coffee & wind in the afternoon.  squishy pillows, covers, paintbrushes, time to sort through the personal thoughts i’ve put off all week when work is consuming & leaves me no energy to process other parts of life.  i look up at the clouds & remember how bright the stars were last night.  a few more than the familiar few & i wished wishes willingly while whimsically wondering what would come.

tomorrow is another day.  every day is a day that can change something.  every day is a day that can change everything.  every day is a day we can make our own.

Create a free website or blog at