i saw a picture of manito park in the winter, here is the result:

the way snow looks on empty park fields
(on days too cold
for children to tunnel underneath the season)
reminds me of Adam two moments
before God's breath
made 'living' out of dust.

bones never break clean,
so i am doing my best
to stay intact
lest dust collect inside my own blood
like shrapnel following the fracture
from when brother fell off the stairs.
Thanksgiving smelled like concussions that year,
it might as well have been mine.
i wasn't yet old enough to understand
how worry
or care
can induce bleeding
but i was close.
mud is never ever crimson
but blood is too bright
for snow to absorb -
it runs
some say melts,
i call it fear
or cowardice.
but how, you ask,
could i fault it
for avoiding
what i complain of?
(stains)

i don't like hospitals.
coupled with holidays
and chills,
they've become just a little bit less than tradition
like rituals that everyone pretends
have died out.

could Adam foresee
what his heart would eventually look like...
...brother's forehead:
indented,
eroding

i said it would have been unfair
to wait until Christmas
my doctor replied that
i would have ruined it anyway.

does this obscurity align
with your bruises?
can you assure me that
i am not the only one
to break open
instead of tearing at the seams?
because i've watched humanity burn,
and i don't like lies.

tell me why snow is too silent,
tell me why wounds are made of noise,
would it be better if
those dichotomies
folded parallel
or is distinction essential
to our understanding?
i pray for black Christmases
and Thanksgiving in houses
devoid of staircases.

i might be a poet
(remember, stock in my trade
is organized sound)
but there are some times when
i will take the silence
over any slideshow soundtrack,
stuck on repeat.

choices, the sky, journals, and treasure.

in some ways, this trip is nice and what i needed. it's certainly much less stressful than a trip to washington d.c. don't get me wrong: it's definitely disappointing that we don't get to go, but this is certainly not a terrible alternative. i had a difficult time near the end of this quarter, i blame the winter blues. i lost a ton of steam and motivation. i have senioritis a year and a half early. wonderful.

i can see the stars tonight. i haven't seen the stars in quite a while.

it seems like i may have to choose between westport and kokanee. when it comes down to it, kokanee will probably win out. but i will miss westport and the ocean so much. my friends know that i love kids, so much so that they will call me at ten at night- having met me three days prior- to ask me to babysit at seven the next morning. and not going to westport makes me want to cry. but the group going to kokanee is arguably a much... better?... environment for me to be in. i don't quite know what i mean by that, but then again i do. hum. it's certainly a much more affirming environment, and the not lack but minimum of high schoolers makes for little (or no, actually) drama, except for the occasional fit due to pms. c'est la vie.

i'm quite mellow right now. and sort of low. my allergies are miserable and it rains a lot over here. but i get to see the ocean. and the stars. the glorious, glorious stars. and that, at least, is a blessing beyond what i could ask. it's interesting how much i love the sky. it's my favorite part of creation, followed closely by the ocean. sunsets, sunrises, stars, blue, white clouds, anger at dark clouds that cover it, black, pink, orange... i suppose the best thing in all creation for me is colorful sky over the ocean. like WP. and it's not that it could prove god's existence for me. it somehow bothers me when people say that. i feel like it trivializes it. it probably doesn't. that's me with a superiority complex. but the only word is glory. then leave it. say nothing. speechless is the greatest place to be.

perhaps my only real gift is words. think about it: the two options i want to make a living from are: 1. talking. (what do pastors do?) or 2. writing and performing. (hence, performance poet.) so, when i find something that blows my mind...

i think the only appropriate response is silence.

which is funny, because here i am, talking about it. trivializing it. so enough of that. there's that for what it is.

i took a four hour nap today. sleep may not be for quite a while. i bought a new journal at powell's, but it's interesting. it has a title - it's called "wreck this journal." it's pretty much fabulous because each page has unpredictable instructions of what to do with the journal. many pages include instructions to make a paper chain or airplane with this page, and so on. tie a string to the journal and go for a walk. climb up high and drop the journal. write a page of good thoughts. write a page of careless thoughts. and so on. hoorah for powell's.

i am working on the meaning of discipleship in terms of following. "there is no following without leaving." i certainly believe that, but i don't know what i need to leave. 'sell all and give to the poor' simply means give up your treasure. i need to find my treasure before i can give it away. i don't pretend to think i don't have it. in fact, i theorize it may be so deep-seeded in me that i can't even recognize it as above christ.

something to contemplate. and work on. i'm going to walk to the bathroom and look at the stars some more.