Sunrise at Desert Hearts

April 11, 2017By Focal NomadPOETRY, Posts, SUNRISE SERIES

Photos taken and words written April 2017. Desert Hearts, CA.

I’ve been standing on the outside
Every twisting arm structure
Even the cuddle piles,
I chose the couches
Underneath the stars
Away from the warmth
Of other humans
I mask my contempt
being my tent.
Frozen to my sleeping bag
Because freedom is not mine.
I withdraw from the
group because I’m scared
I came here with an
Open heart and
in just a couple of
crunch crunch
looped myself into
proving just how
delicate I really am
Blasted open I
felt gratitude for
my community
but even there, a
Why wasn’t this easier
this year?
I’ve got my systems
down – I
know how I react, how
to act, where to
get what I need
I want something done,
I take the lead.
So shouldn’t this be
getting easier?
Or do I just have
the mundane
on auto-pilot?
Therefore the magic
becomes a lesson and
now is something I
try to create and is
no longer something that
just happens?
That’s what this is.
Any magic I thought
just happened is
actually the cause of
a lot of hard work
from other people.
It’s not luck – it’s
work – and the
willingness to see
the resources available
to be gifts to us.
Some gifts are only
leased – makes us
feel ripped or teased.
But nothing is ever really
ours to begin with.
It just is.

Sunrise from Griffith Observetory

March 30, 2017By Focal NomadPOETRY, SUNRISE SERIES

Photos taken and words written in March 2017. Los Angeles, CA.

First sunrise.
Feels like the end of a vampire phase:
No more last sunsets, only firsts.
This morning, this day,
Every day is now a first.
I try to look at it, to take it in,
But too much of a good thing will blind you.
The anticipation in the pink and blue,
The swelling up of joy from the
Perceived coming experience,
That once it peaks over the hills,
It’s majestic as fuck,
And this poem serves no purpose.
Except to be here as a sounding
Board for the first thoughts of
The first morning. The first morning
Sunrise. Is this enough?
I feel like I’m leaving something out.
Like how the gold pushes through
The cattail grass as the wind moves
It in a dance. Daybreaking through
The smog to create a new framework
That maybe Los Angeles can be
Heaven, if we fool ourselves into
Believing that the smog is clouds and the
Clouds are saving us and
Not actually destroying us.
Feeling the irony as these thoughts
Come as this series is meant to
Save myself from myself.
Feeling the irony as I sit in this
Car to write, a vehicle that is not
Mine. Because I am too cold
To do this on my own. With
The wind and everything else,
The suns rays just aren’t enough.
Neither is my hoodie. So I’ve got
His jacket on, sitting in his
Car. Allowing borrowed things to
Start something that is meant to
Help me heal from this past year.
Heal from this past year, heal
From the moment when I’ll have
To turn the keys in, take this
Jacket off, and move forward in
This series, alone.


March 17, 2017By Focal NomadPOETRY

Interesting how a song, a note

On a chord can strike me in a

Way that in the middle of getting

Things done I’m right back to this

Place of pushing through the tears

To try and write so I can purge and

Then get back to work.


I tell myself I’m determined

I’m determined to make this work

Because what I’m most afraid of

Is regret that I’ll find out that I

Was wrong this whole time.


So I’ll keep pushing thorugh all of

The pain your love has brought up

In me. I’ll keep taking it and releasing

It because the pain was all ready there

And now it’s just illuminated.

I knew there was something hidden

Laying in the dark, and now your darkness

Has come to light to and we’re so scared

By what we see.


Is this what love does?

I keep wondering if this is necessary to

Truly get to the extent of my evolution

Or maybe I’m just torturing myself and

There’s no need for any of this stuff surface.


I hate seeing you sad and upset

It breaks my heart knowing that you’re still

In pain and I wish I could heal you with my

Love. Maybe I am though. Maybe your healing

Is just painful, and it requires a lot of breaking

Through and bending and contortuing to feel

Like you can walk straight again. Maybe I’m the

Cast holding your limbs in place and it hurts for

Them to be held straight but in the end you’ll

Walk taller and walk for longer because I’ve

Forced you into this uncomfortable position

For a while.


Meanwhile, it hurts me to see you this way

You’re angry and resentful that I’m putting

You in pain, but you know that this limp hasn’t

Really been working out as well as you

Had hoped. Unexpectedly, in the process

Of trying to love you harder, I tried to perfect

You, because what keeps me bending to you

Is a hunchback filled with fears of my past

That if I don’t fix this, and then this and then

This, you’ll bend in another direction that

Doesn’t think or care much for me.


As you begin to stand taller my hunch becomes

More noticeable. We both know that I’m not

Perfect. It’s clear you don’t need plastic surgery.

You don’t need new arms, certainly not new

Hands. You don’t need more hair or a new

Heart. If I try to change everything, you’ll no

Longer be the one I fell to my knees for.
So what I need to do now, is trust that that

Cast is mending, and open doors for you

And grab coffee for you when you need me to

But let it sit there and mend. The work there

Is on it’s way now it’s time for mine.

Physical therapy, focusing on how to reduce

The masses that have built up behind me,

Running the show when I didn’t even ask

For it. If I can start to pull my shoulders back

Heart-forward, I can begin to move through

The world with a sense of self-worth that

Shows I will be okay, I will be okay no

Matter what happens. I will continue to love

And be loved and I don’t need to bend and

Contort anyone else in the process to keep

Doing so. I just have to do the work on the

Mat, at my job, in my apartment, on my lap

Top, and in the moment, every moment of

Every day and remind myself that I AM HERE

All is well. Shoulders back, chest out,

Slowly over time, my hunch will reduce and

As it does my heart will fill up with love.

For myself, for you, for your little every

Day victories and for mine, too.