Phases of the Moon
Phases of the Moon
January
If I let it be
Let it go
Let it flow
Would it look any different?
Or would it just feel different?
If I’m still asking this question
Then I still haven’t learned
This is not a guessing game
This is the deep breath of
Listening and simply
Letting it grow
February
2025
Everyone took a collective deep breath
For surviving January
The dark, short days
Of a cold, long month
Two weeks of highs in the single digits
With the cute aside of -20 degree windchill
28 days of winter is nothing!
Nobody even talks about the groundhog anymore anyway
Tropic temps dropped our jaws
Alright, there was no January thaw
But 50 degrees in February is disconcerting
Snowpack? Gone
Melting all around me
Collective sighs turned to collective trepidation
What could possibly be next?
Schizophrenic winter
It’s clear that Mama Earth said “f**k you”
And stopped taking her meds
You can’t call the psych ward on your Creator,
Especially when her offspring did it to her
Seasonal depression or seasonal confusion?
We wanna ski pow, man
Watch for sharks - every plank is your rock kit now, sorry
Just be grateful it’s not your ACL
A good winter for an office job
Pray for moisture
Fire ban fears in February
Months and months too early
To worry about that
Months and months too early to see grass
In the typical tundra
28 days can’t go fast enough
March
The year’s first bluebird
Always twitters, flits on by
During the third month
Joy, hope, renewal
In the burst of blue, your eyes
Blink in disbelief
We made it through, yet
Another winter, Spring - I can
Feel you on my lips
July Fever
2023
July High
It’s a blur
It’s a second
It’s hours on your feet
It’s hot days
With booming, swirling monsoons
Sweltering behind
It’s the greenest green
And the bluest blue
And the most abundant flowers you’ve ever seen
It’s dirt under your fingernails
And between your toes
And on your cheeks
And on your calves, because it’s all over your truck
Honestly, it’s probably everywhere
It’s sunsets that last forever
And stargazing in warm bliss
It’s crackling flames
And bursts of laughter
And howling
And music
And guitar strums
It’s the craziest fastest labyrinth
Every year
And then comes August…
September
Locals’ summer
Get it while you can
While you’re not drowning
There’s still time for it all…
But you can still tell that the sun
Says goodbye quicker these days,
Eager to rejoice with the other
Side of the world
That missed his rays so dearly
He leaves behind
Golden Baked Heaven
Baking fields
Baking apples
Baking pies
Everything turned into a cracked crust
To absorb every last ray
The ultimate golden hour
Golden maidens, kind community
Hating that he has to leave,
It’s like telling a toddler
That it’s time for their nap
We’ll fight him for leaving, but deep down
We do want to sleep, to rest, to rejuvenate
Try not to think about it,
3 minutes of daylight lost each day
It’s so much more fun to play,
Oblivious in the locals’ summer
November
Well, November is a sure
Ass-whooping
Stick season from hell
Climate anxiety - bells tolling inside your eyeballs
Brown, bleak, cold, dark
Why do we live here again?
Where is everyone?
White ribbon of death
Dreaming of storm cycles or summer days
Soup, save me
Holidays are humble refuge for someone who’s lonely
Let me rip my tongue out before I say the wrong thing again
How am I related to these people?
How did I put up with this my whole life?
I think I’d like to go back to my hole again, please
End of the year creeping up
Failure, failure, failure
Reflection, digestion, remorse
I think I’d like to be anyone else
anywhere else
April
Do you ever think about how small your mind is
Compared to the timeless teachings of the grand universe
You have all the wisdom within you
You just have to find a way to stretch your mind wide
May
Do you ever think about how small your mind is
Compared to the timeless teachings of the grand universe
You have all the wisdom within you
You just have to find a way to stretch your mind wide
June-
2023
It’s almost like a goddess
First acknowledging her power
The height of rhythm and joy
She can feel the water start to tumble into a low boil
And she blinks
Finally understanding her perfection
Settling into her grace,
All harmony and lush
August
2025
They say that
August is the orgasm
But for me, it’s more like the post-coital depression
When their body is no longer inside yours
Their arms no longer wrapped around you
Their weight no longer pressed into your bed
Their scent no longer tangled in your sheets
You lie there alone
With poignant, fresh memories playing
Through your mind, your nerve-endings
Of what it felt like to be together
To me, August has alsways been a month of
Mourning, a tragic goodbye in so many ways,
A bitter taste of parting ways with
Something sweet and fast and that you felt
You had just started to understand
If August is the orgasm,
Then June is lingerie foreplay
July is the f**king
Now it’s whatever is left over
If October Could Talk
2024
I had worked myself into a tizzy -
“Winter is coming” chanting into my marrow
Yet, here I was in the river in 65 degrees
Laughing on mountain tops
Ripping switchbacks with the girls
Although when the sun dropped,
He went “poof”
Not much sunset to it
I made soups
Watched the trees go from
LOOK AT ME
to
look away, I’m naked!
There were red dresses
And red auroras-
Activated dreams come true
There were kisses and feeble attemps at moving on
So many f**king tears
There was so much more to off-season
To the beginning whims of winter
I surprised myself
At how pleasant it was
Just to be
To allow myself to simply enjoy
The month of October