my mother didn’t hand me a book on how to breastfeed

Nor did she give me manuals or send me podcasts.

She handed me laughter and hand made tortillas.

A cup of crushed ice & a bottle of glass coke to share.

She handed me fights as a teenager

screaming and slamming doors on each other

tears of regret from both of us as we try to bandage the broken parts between us,

savoring what might be left of any sweet bond we had from the days when I suckled from her breasts.

Taping our hearts back together with broken words and shopping trips,

she handed me her survival kit.

All she knew how to do to keep me alive.

She handed me what her mother handed her in her youth and what she had alchemized on top of that.

I’m one of the lucky ones because in adulthood, she handed me her friendship

as a path of reconnection for the bond we lost before.

🌬️

My mother didn’t hand me breastfeeding books. 

She handed me LIFE.

every raw moment with its built in sweet significance 

teaching me more than a book ever could in the ways that she did and didn’t hold me.

She passes the baton of safeguarding life to me now, and I run off with it, 

pregnant as can be...

Eager to become a mother as she sees me running off like her child.

Tend to the fires
you cannot tame
Call me by
my Nahua name
Your shadow mustn't
not feel shame
or everything
will stay the same.

We haven’t spoken for 54 days,
or something like that.
I didn't know we'd take "no-contact" so seriously.

Well, I love you. 
And I know that you love me.
This is just our way of loving ourselves.

One day I sang to the moon, and I cried to the Earth:
"Please,
Madre Tierra, 
let us see the people that we love."

Then I saw you at the market in the morning.




Maybe next time 
I'll be more specific with my prayers
and ask for like world peace or something.

🌿

The spirits have a funny way of speaking to us

Sometimes through wind, and sometimes through water.

But the most important things that Life has to share with us

is through our relationships with each other.

Renewal of the spirit
Renewal of the soul
Renewal of the times
That you made me feel so whole

We always said the best medicine
Is the one that hurts the most
Like alcohol on a wound
Your words heal me.

Blossoms falling within hours
Leave a strong tree bare
Reminds me of the way
That I used to fucking care

Jacaranda season never meant as much to me
As it did when I left you
I finally understood the tree
And with it, I finally grew

I hope our relationship withers
Beautifully like blossoms
We can even press a flower
And with it conceal our problems

Well, I don’t think you want to savor it
After all I’ve done, why would you?
I wish there was a way we could tend to it
And hold on to memory’s hue

But I will never force you to hold on
To something we should release
The one thing I will ask
Is that we can go in peace.

(I know that’s asking for a lot
But I’m going to ask for it anyways)

Purple was always my favorite color
And I loved sharing that with you
I’m leaving with the jacaranda leaves now
Don’t try to interpret that too.

My love language is rainy season
and sending each other dreams
Playing on the Earth with you
the blood in my cheek beams

Find yourself in my dimple
every-time I smile
Laugh with an open heart
And please, just stay a while

Let’s make memories with each other
like we don’t even know we’re doing it
Ignore insurance like a blow horn
Loudly and intuitive

Balloons carry the weight 
of my memories with you
Let’s watch them fly away
into the heart of the sky’s blue

Let’s watch them fly away
We can even release together 
And if you want me, if you really do
You’ll pull them back and tether

My waist like a horse
closer to you
with your lovely, lovely force
This is more than a part two

Give the memories to me like a gift –
my number one love language
And let’s offer them to the Earth
Let’s send the land a message

I call it caldo
and you call it consomé.
Oh my love, my pure love
the things you fucking do to me...

Con mis pies in the dirt

Con mi corazón en tus ojos

nos corazones will never hurt

𖥧

Tonantzin1 me abre

Cuando tu me miras

Con tus ojos misteriosos

Con tus ojos me obligas

𖥧

No parece un sueño?

Eres el sueño de mis sueños

Eres la tierra, Eres el sol

Eres totalmente en la vida

҉

Tlaloc2 laughed at us

Cuando lo llamamos by his name

Mētztli3 hermosa nos sonrió

Lifting us with the eternal flame

⟢

I smell like your tobacco

And now I never want to shower

I’ll smell your tobacco forever

In every magical hour

𖥧

En la tierra, en tu sol

En tu corazón existes.

Eres el sueño de mis sueños

And I just want to keep sleeping

ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ

the cherry blossoms in Kyoto
seem to fall just like I did
softly, briefly, in a span of 10 days
following the time of the wind
❀

the cherry blossoms in Kyoto
don’t fall quite like we do
in and out of love
me, in and out of you
❀

you were almost perfect for me
and I, almost for you
but almost isn’t perfect
and perfect isn’t true.
❀

There’s no smoking in Kyoto
So how am I supposed to think?
How do I tell the tobacco how much I miss you
when to tobacco, they won’t let me speak?
❀

I miss the way you smell in the morning,
the way your armpits stink,
the way you hold me close to you:
I blush cherry blossom pink.
❀

Our kisses were never perfect
well, they were perfect for their time.
perfect enough to make me blush
perfect enough to make me rhyme

If we kissed again someday soon,
wouldn’t that be the perfect crime?
❀

There’s no crying in Kyoto
it’s really frowned upon.
They frown but don't let me cry:
everything I do here is wrong.

(I can cry near the Buddhist monks.
They do whatever the fuck they want.)
❀

the cherry blossoms in Kyoto
follow the wind over my head
as they land softly on the Earth
creating a pink cherry blossom bed
❀

the blossom bloom in Kyoto
isn't quite as rare as you
Sakura dreams reveal our greatest mysteries
and I really fucking miss you.
❀ ❀ ❀

the ink in my pen is cold

the ink has frozen onto itself

just like my memories of you

❆

I don’t have time to rhyme anymore

I’m too busy on my computer

typing words I don’t care about

making myself feel stupider

౨

but in these moments when times freeze

when my heart begins to trust again

when tears cloud my blue light glasses

and my hand finally reaches for a pen

. . .

when I listen to all of the songs

that we used to share

when I think deeply of all the times

that we didn’t fucking care

જ⁀➴

when I feel regret and guilt and pain

and love and fear as one in the same

—

when I took my space from you

right after you abandoned me

to the soundtrack of Indie rock

what a fucking melody

▶︎ •၊၊||၊|။||||။‌‌‌‌‌၊|• 4:44

in these moments when the Earth

whispers into our hearts

the lessons that we chose

these paths to brand new starts

𓇢𓆸

when I rest my head on a pillow

and my throat clenches in pain

and I sit back here and wonder

if you might be feeling the same

ོ

in moments when we’re hummingbirds

working like a honey-bee

weaving ourselves into Life itself

in the most beautiful heartbreaking harmony

𓅫𓅫

when the pain of an open heart

crowds any idea of ecstasy

🥀

in these moments

in these moments

do you also think of me?

your dirt brown hair and dirt brown eyes.

I love you like you love your dog

your gentle strength and poise, a prize.

I love you like the ocean blue

your flow, your depth, your moon-led tides.

I love you more than you love you.

I love you more with each sun•rise.

from azalea to azalea, for difficult times

popped off when she made Whole Foods.

That shit slaps for real.

of strangers around me

feels comforting to my soul.

𓆰

What a divine blessing it is to be fed.

What a blessing it is to be whole.

⥀

Seeing you with that dust

wrapped around your fingers,

feeling the aura of those Sunchip herbs

in my nostrils linger

~

It feels relaxing to my nervous system

to see you feel so whole.

🪷

And if eating feels normal

If this is a normal day to you

maybe you don’t consider it a blessing.

🕊

Maybe you’re grateful

just unaware of how grateful you should be.

—

Should be?

Could be.

—

Maybe you’re aware of how grateful you could be

to have Sunchip dust on your fingers.

☼

But as a stomach that’s lived years unfed

I can’t not be grateful

seeing you so satisfied,

Dear stranger in my day.

☺

I will hold gratitude for you

and we can share it with the world.

𓇢𓆸

and we will plant it in the land.

yesterday

that really stuck.

“Have you ever wondered

where the wind begins?”

~

Oh,

Earth angel,

with soft brown curls

that mimic the way

the sunset shines

on undomesticated grass

𖥧

and eyes that glow,

eyes that match

𓁹

I stare at you in wonder

as I wonder everyday.

I think the wind begins

in the place where our hearts play.

or at least for the 4 hours I slept.

My back hurts from holding myself.

—

I’ll spend less time on my phone

and more time in my heart.

I miss running to you for safety.

—

Am I the embodiment of The Broken Arrow?

Or, is this, at the very least, my path?

I feel like I’m the furthest thing from peace.

—

I wonder what you feel when you read my poetry.

I wonder what you think when you wake in the morning.

I wonder where the anger is felt in your body when you hear my name.

what you hate about me, so I can throw it away.

—

I torture myself with your words,

with the thoughts in your brain that I’ve put inside of you.

Whether they’re really there or not,

I torture me.

—

I’ve never had such a difficult time being myself.

Myself doesn’t want to be me — a sincere cry for HELP.

Myself only wants to be what you will approve,

what you will love,

what you will choose.

—

And a voice from inside of me

lingers through my day.

“Be a good person

or their Love will go away.”

—

I wonder where I learned that

I’m undeserving of Love.

It certainly wasn’t from my Mother Earth

or my Father Sky from above.

—

Who is wringing my heart

like a soaking wet towel?

Is it you?

or is it me?

I don’t know why

I don’t know why

I care so much what you think.

my forehead tense

My 3rd eye active

lingers suspense.

➖

Ribcage is barren,

esophagus sore.

Have I thrown up so much acid

in this lifetime before?

➖

Still, I can’t shake the feeling

of love that grows within me.

Is this the healer’s torture?

Feeling pain, love, and no pity?

➖

The ceremony was great.

Really, one of my best.

But it’s been 15 hours

and my 3rd eye will not rest.

➖

I can not move my body,

but I feel it empty under me.

Is this the price of healing?

Losing your soul during a ceremony?

➖

Still, with this I feel

my heart expand with Light -

The beauty, the joy, the richness

of the medicine last night.

➖

I don’t really know what happened

and I’m not going to try to guess.

You’ll drive yourself insane

making sense of a cosmic mess.

➖

My ribs are sore,

3rd eye in pain.

My heart is open,

perception is sane.

➖

And my anxiety’s gone -

so is the PTSD.

Is this the healer’s torture?

Not accepting you’re free?

➖

I feel confused,

but also clear.

Ayahuasca will do that,

mix love with fear.

➖

Well, back to work

to retrieve my soul.

I’ve done this before.

I know my role.

➖

I’ve lost my mind

& I’m okay with that.

But next time I want someone else to heal me

so I can fucking rest.