change and the river metaphor

it will tear you apart michael says
recounting change and the river metaphor
(cling to the banks and it will shred you,
tumble with the current and you will find your way)

that all our lives he says
as he and nick and i sip
the wellness tea
exist just so that we may
get to know creator (or, fill in your word
of choice here) better


sand-clumped boots
i snip sage along the old morada’s
stages of the cross and
offer water to
sacred mountain
whose dark peak pierces
low-lying cloud


you have a fern on your computer
woman observes/exclaims at the library
it helps to balance it all out i say
(thinking, now this – this is the taos i know)
i don’t know how you do it she says
even a half hour wears me out

you are seeping in i say
while snow sifts down
as seen through the brooke-nook
balcony window
to places i haven’t carried you/
felt you before
you know about my nightmares
i say/ask describing the variations:
driving and i can’t reach the gas/break
driving and, hard as i can, can’t open my eyes
or the dashboard is so high i can’t see
the road before me
driving as best i can while sitting in the back seat
or passenger seat
driving and i can’t reach the wheel or move my hands
driving but i can’t see around/about me

cocooning i say
about the softness i seek
after all the showing up

welcome to my brain i say/sing
when i say something about
how the work is not
about getting someone to hold the space for me
but just trusting that they are / that they are there

the smallest offering
to fever-hot tears
that appear in response to the collection of metaphors
that edward scissorhands is

i feel so apologetic i tell brooke
for bringing the plague into your house
while we three sip the sick potion
(juiced ginger, lemon, cayenne)
in her kitchen