CHILD SERVICES AIN'T GOT NOTHIN ON ME

When I was 6 years old I got onto the monkey bars and could only make it halfway across so I held on and called my dad over to help me cross the other half. So he comes over and extends his loving arms like he's going to help me but instead he de-pants me and I'm still holding onto the monkey bars but pantsless and my dad is laughing at me and I feel this cool breeze pass by so I look down and realize what's going on and think, "ah, good one" and then I start laughing but then the humilation sets in and within about two seconds I transition from laughing to crying and I'm still holding onto the monkey bars and my dad is still laughing at me and the rest of my family/relatives are watching this all go on not knowing what to do because they're good people who have better parenting skills and I look back and although it was awful at the time this experience has helped me better embrace life's many surprises

it me (THE BIG REVEAL)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lkgPbbujwGY

shoutout to Hanna Sullivan and Emily Moyle for helping me produce this film.

Stitching Bees in the Hospital Waiting Room

at age 5, I caught a glow bug in my tin bucket and took her home 

because I wanted to see how she would light up my room

but I woke up the next morning and her glow had gone

that was the earliest encounter I had with death that I can remember 

if I do not live to kiss the forehead of my first born daughter 

I'll send her all my kisses now

I've learned death does not have good timing

but she knows how to show mercy

and to turn pain into rest

I should start buying mom more flowers 

and telling dad "thank you" more often

illness had her grip on him longer than he was holding hands with life

that stretcher didn't seem too comfortable

nor did the tube taking home down his throat

I'm yet to exchange wedding vows in the desert 

and carve my name in red rock

I still don't know every gemstone by name

his bloodlines became obsolete along with his cd collection

the television always radiated warmth

and the pear trees were often forgotten to be watered

I bought myself a 35mm disposable camera several weeks ago 

and I still haven't finished using up the film

grandma gave me his old mandolin

 I don't think I'll ever truly learn how to properly play it

I need to stop being so hesitant of sharing my favorite songs with others 

in fear of them being the reason the music may later leave a bitter taste in my mouth

I still remember mustering up the courage just to touch his toe

I was reluctant because a machine read his heartbeat

and his complexion bargained with white orchids

seeing someone like that makes you take a lot of walks

I'm ready to dance in campfire smoke and rest my head on the shoulders of the people I love

there's more places I'm yet to hike to with no particular destination in mind

there are reasons behind why our bloodlines run south

the same reasons his classical guitar gathered dust

and I sat stitching bees in the hospital waiting room

I don't have to laugh at jokes I don't think are funny

just because it sometimes helps conversations run smoother

I couldn't recall the last time I saw him conscious

nor the last time I saw my dad cry

the clouds swam through marmalade 

it didn't match the mood

but in ways it did

I'm yet to dwell through Petra's ruins

and sign the adoption papers to bring home my first dog

I wonder if the nylon strings on his classical guitar snapped

the same time he passed over at 5:07 that morning

I'm looking forward to the day me and him will meet in perfect health

 I envision him now hugging his mother
exchanging apologies with his father
and singing in gunfighter ballads with Marty Robbins

we will sit with one another and beam about everything we didn't in this life

I apologize to the glow bug I took home in my bucket made of tin

I believe my grandfather is well

and smiling 

because I'm teaching myself to play his mandolin

(My Grandparents, Noriko & Chris)

Embroidering These Fears Only To Stitch Them Out

missed calls

gravel pits

needles

I Want To Sleep In Honeycomb

I’m going to tell you what it’s like to ache for honey

and to have your hips swing around mountain ranges

I go home and practice talking a little louder

my voice is not used to reaching beyond shut doors

I’m trying a little harder

so I'm carrying my speech through canyons

caramel echoes bounce off red rock

I'm learning to not leave my voice behind shut doors

I once knew a boy with an artichoke heart

he taught me that love is not always pink

or reciprocated or understood or exactly what you need

he was not what I needed

I’m waiting for the day I’ll be able to roller-skate on Saturn's rings 

I'm getting tired of lost toothpaste caps

and tipping over mason jars

teeth sinking in sparkling water

I want to sleep in honeycomb

I’ve been kissed by olive branches

stung by bees

aided by angels 

miracles do not shout for attention

rather they wait to be found

thank you, God for planting those miracles in me

for I was what I needed all along

. . .

I no longer leave my voice behind shut doors

so watch me as I bandage my own blood

 brave and bold, brave and bold

the Asphodel Inquires the Stinging Nettle (a very short written script between two conversing plants)

Moonstone Memoir

bound by moonstone, they married young

and despite their differences, they loved without an agenda

they lived humbly by their family name, and built with what they could,

I still thank them for that.

greenhouse stroll, class commute, minimum wage

pinewood bed frame was crafted by the hands of a man

who loved a woman with hazelnut woven hair

the fourth post scarred by their initials and wrapped in a heart

telescopes, fairy rings, watercolors

we paid everyday visits to grandpa's nectarine trees

grandma graced us with homegrown zucchini 

their house was our second home 

they always brought us in,

I still thank them for that.

we said goodbye to the place and people that felt like home 

and settled closer to the Atlantic shoreline

graveyard shifts, strawberry milk, campus walks

I was told I was the best reader in my class,

I took a lot of pride in that

skateboard cuts and bruises,

I never recall worrying whether or not I'd heal 

barefoot and bold I defended every living thing,

I guarded with my feet rooted into the floor and arms shouting to the sky

I'd fight those boys if I had to, I would in a heartbeat

burnt oatmeal cookies

she said she was sorry; although, she had no reason to be

she was and still is everything that is good

I built fairy gardens and found comfort sitting under the weeping willow

school was hard, I never liked the loud, I never liked feeling small

I wish I learned to stand up for myself sooner

recess search for sassafras and honeysuckle 

it felt like the world was trying to catch up with us

floral hat boxes, lavender oil, late night re-runs

I took ballet lessons 

but spent more time marveling at the web a spider had spun 
in the corner of our studio than to the lessons themselves 

sneaking bites out of the peaches at the supermarket never got too sweet

I still feel bad I stole those chocolate snowmen, but I laugh about it too

fireflies lit up our backyard,

I still wonder why they visited for only one summer

although their light never lasted long, I'm glad they stayed when they did

my 4th grade class and I stepped into Monet's "The Water Lily Pond" that day at the sculpture grounds,

I hid thinking I would never have to leave

Simon and Garfunkel always knew what to say

so did Cat Stevens, The Smiths, and Tom Rush

time went by

my hair grew longer

my baby teeth were gone

white sage, clear quartz, blank canvases

Mother teaches the importance of kindness,

the beauty in knowledge, to tend to your own spiritual growth, 

and to always become 

Father teaches the importance of education, 

the reward of hard work, to always give, 

and to never let your heart grow old

I have attended funerals, baby blessings, baptisms, and weddings

I have seen love in its best, I have learned all things good are built by careful hands.

My parents built me a childhood with careful hands

I still thank them for that.

(Window by Joel Ryhmer)