I used to wake up before the sun even
thought about rising.

I remember the unfiltered air
The dark
so accepting of the light.

I used to sit by a small pond
In El Bolson
after I had dug up the earth,
uncovering secrets so feared,
buried alive.

I used to find happiness
hiding on my bookshelf
sleeping on my pillowcase
pouring itself into my coffee

I used to feel its presence

like the slightest bit of cream

I pour into my coffee
just enough for the taste.


it hitches a ride on my road trip to nowhere
I just felt like driving.


How is it that
the life of a dragonfly begins in water

yet when it learns how to fly
it is afraid of drowning









Sitting by the pond I pay no attention







to the beat of the sun.

Even though my shoulders are burning
The only things I notice are the colors reflected

by the wings.

How even though a dragonfly must feel the inescapable heat

Even though they must too, feel it burn

They shine back
with their own light.

Choosing how to be treated

and seen.