ashes

paris is in ashes
and i'm aching for a clean slate

a blank canvas
isn't that why artists come here in the first place?

maybe somewhere along the way
I got lost in the taste of the eclairs
and the architecture
and I spent too much time
in front of the mona lisa

maybe I stopped noticing the cracks in the side walks
or ignored the places where it smelled like big city

but now,
paris is in ashes

and i'm wondering...
is this where i'm supposed to be?

stuck in the complacency of the way things used to be?

because somewhere along the way, alta june changed
somewhere between transferring tassels
and first kisses
and game day screams
and late night drives
and loss
and grief
and more grief
and heartbreak
and healing
and 3 hour road trips
and falling in love
and getting a real job

alta june grew up.

so maybe it's time to rise from the ashes,
to explore new horizons,
to fill my passport with stamps
of places i've never heard of,
to try speaking languages other than french

and write about things that matter to me, today.

because i've changed. . .
i'm not the same a.j. that arrived in paris four years ago.
the things that mattered to me then
and the things that matter to me now--
they're different.
and i'm different.

but i'm still
alta june

and I still have things to say.

hurricane's eye

even when the wind
sends me whip lashing in every direction

even when the tide pulls me in
sinking far below the surface

even when i'm drowning in deadlines
and i'm swimming against the current

i find refuge here with you
my eye of the hurricane


you are tranquility amid turbulence
even on the most arduous days

so go ahead, send out all the storm warnings
send out all the signs
tell me all the reasons I shouldn't brave this weather

hazards may fall, conditions may be severe
but it doesn't matter

because here with you,
my eye of the hurricane

i'm always going to be just fine

autumn.rain

tonight we leave the window cracked

because lightning strikes make us feel alive

pitter-patter

full-out downpour

maybe we like the sound of hydroplaning

because it's just extreme puddle jumping

and we are tired of tip toeing

tonight when we crack the window

and untwist the blinds

we embrace simplicity

& fall in love with the ordinary

it's you and me

hands intertwined

beneath the sheets 

and with every raindrop that falls

i

         fall

                          in love

                                                with

our

               simple     

                                    little

                                                   life

over due

I'm sorry that I've never written you a poem
or documented us this way
but every time I look into your eyes
they tell the whole story, better than I could tell it myself

and like a child my heart yearns
"tell me again,
tell me the story again"

And with one look in your eyes I see

me scraping the bottom of my cup,
smiling the whole drive home

and the night picnic under the stars

how we kept scooting closer together
both unsure of the limits

a hammock, a nasty view
and your heart racing against my ear

the night I told you everything
and you just listened.

blankets in your backyard
and even though we just had our first fight,
realizing that I loved you

the driving realization
that you're a lot like my dad

a dark parking lot
and an "iloveyou"
and an
"iloveyou...too"

how could I possibly tell the whole story
of how I continue to fall in love with you

how could I possibly put into words
every little thing you do

and even though I am just brushing the surface,
this poem is long, long over due.

defrost (04.09)

i still remember freezing

and wishing the traffic light wouldn't ever turn green

your ears were cold

i could feel them when i whispered

my hands went numb

and i thought you were just too nervous

snow fell that night

you fell too, but only physically 

my feet were cold

but i guess now we know

yours were colder

it snowed today

and i think that's what reminded me

dad I owe you an apology (04.08)

I'm sorry I talk about myself

It's just that today was the first time

I haven't felt alone

In a room full of strangers

All eyes on you

Kind eyes

Listening eyes

Eyes that have seen

The same things yours have 

They've seen the same kind of pain

and denial

and felt sorry for themselves too, I bet

Dad I owe you an apology

I cried about you today

But I didn't mention everything

I cried about the pain but ignored the progress

I cried about how alone I felt but didn't mention how
you were there for me in the midst of your own suffering 

I cried about no one understanding,
yet I am the one who will never understand

I cried about how you're gone
but left out all the times I've felt you here since

Dad I owe you an apology

I cried about you today

But I need to be better at paying attention

I'm sorry I cried to you while you were suffering

I'm sorry I cried to you about your suffering

As if you could have changed it

I still cry about it

And I know that will not change

But Dad I owe you an apology

You gave me all the strength in the world

I'm just sorry I haven't figured out how to use it without you yet

where is my rescuer? (04.07)

my hope is that one of these days

you'll stop sending out lifelines--

that you'll be humble enough to put your hand in this freezing cold water

and have the strength to pull me into the boat with you

in memory (04.06)

there's too much i'm afraid to forget

his memory is not words

it is rib-crushing hugs

bad dad jokes

Jimmer's last game in the Marriott Center

the way he yelled and cheered while i danced

the funny phrases he'd say on business calls

his flyin' hawaiian shirt

Diet Coke & Sunflower Seeds

a wheezing laugh after a dirty joke

teaching me how to ride a bike

how his face always turned really red on Tower of Terror

the way he looked at you over the top of his glasses

dancing at my sisters' weddings

holding grand-babies for the first time

how he secretly loved the dog he claimed to hate

stale black licorice

Dad Rock Radio stations, and how he always sang along slightly off-key

but his memory is also

the look in his eyes when the doctor said "cancer"

a bald head and a bright smile

hours spent watching the NBA finals

all the times i heard him say goodbye

the time he told me he wasn't afraid to die

all the drives speeding on the freeway to get home, wondering if i'd get there in time

how he went from a strong man to a completely dependent frail one

the way he wept so often after his stroke

and apologized to Mom for not having the life they'd hoped for

how on that last day he put his head next to mine, and I told him "Daddy, I don't want you to suffer anymore" and he promised he wouldn't

and then he waved goodbye to us like he knew it was his time

and in his final moments of pain, he left behind the words "I love you"

He said them over and over again.

salty cheeks & bruised knees (04.02)

i've stopped feeling God the same way

but often i just feel the need to cry...

it seems like that's the only prayer of mine

He's been willing to answer lately

birthday candles

this poem was written at the end of july 2016, shortly after my dad's 59th birthday. at the time I didn't know that it really would be his last.

His hair is white and withering away
his wrinkles are quite defined
his muscle tone is fading
sometimes his voice shakes
and he cries a lot more than he used to

But he still smiles like he's building something.

Every word he speaks tells a story
always past and present tense
and I can't remember the last time I heard him utter the word "future"

Every statement he makes is a sermon;
he speaks less loudly but more boldly

And every time he says the words "thank you"
it feels like an introduction to goodbye

it's July 14th
So we gather around
singing the same old happy birthday song

And I start to count the candles

57, 58, 59...

59....

59...?

With no sign of 60 anywhere to be found.

The numbness I feel makes time slow down
and I listen to the words of the song
I look at him, smiling, happy
and I wonder what he's thinking

Is he wondering the same thing?
Does this birthday chorus not sound haunting?

A light-hearted song has never made me feel so hollow
A candle light has never looked so dim
The future has never felt this blurry

I'm trying to celebrate his life
but it's hard when I have so much fear... about his...

I just want to see candle #60.
And 61, 62, 63, 64.

Maybe I hate birthday candles
because sometimes they are tricks
Or because sometimes they go out before you get the chance to blow them--
before you get the chance to make your wish
before you get the chance to hope that it might actually come true

But maybe the reason I hate birthday candles this year

Is because a birthday wish should never be an

anything-but-death 

wish

show your work or you won't get credit

I don't know if I should ask math about us
but I know we don't make sense

8 months of lasting impressions + 1 kiss - 1 foot
& 4 inches + ~20 hours of you & I  - 2 months of
confusion - 2 months of distance + 4 months of falling
into place - 18 months to potentially fall apart

I think this is a math problem because somehow
you made this equation = those 3 words

I don't know how you got there.
and I'm going to need you to show your work
because I'm not sure you know what you're doing
How can you be sure?

3 words with 3 capital letters, tacked on the front of my name
(followed by an exclamation point) as if you really meant it.
It's as if you know that the black ink in your pen is permanent

And that's the image I can't get out of my head.

somewhere beneath

i wish i could tell you what it's like

9.9.16

to watch the person you love become
consumed
swallowed up
trapped
suffocated by their own body
a body that no longer belongs to them
but a body that they belong to

i wish i could tell you what it's like

to look at the person you love
and have to search for them in their eyes
to sort through gasping breaths & worried glances

i wish i could tell you what it's like
when you can't find them anymore.


he's in there somewhere, and i think that's the hardest part.


somewhere beneath the oxygen tubes
the heavy, pale skin
the slowing speech
the rattling chest

somewhere beneath the cancer

there is my dad.

the man who taught me
faith in all things
kindness to all
aggression in sports
balance in riding a bike
balance in life
courage in choosing the harder way
stability to stand tall

he's there

somewhere beneath the pain

he is there


i squeezed his hand three times like I always have
and he squeezed back four times like he always has
"i
love
you
too"


i wish i could tell you what it's like

to wish he wasn't there
to wish that he could be released
to wish that he could find relief
to wish that he could finally be at peace
to wish that he would leave me

i wish i could tell you what it's like

hurricane.

my whole life i've been searching for sky, 
but in your eyes i found the sea

some nights i fall asleep with you in my lungs 
my chest rising and falling
my thoughts creating tidal waves
for your silent tsunami

No life guard on duty at this hour,
No raft to save me from the riptide,
and i'm not scuba certified
to feel a love this deep
and maintain my ability to breathe

so for now i think


and i sink



(and it's always in that order)

this is not a poem

this isn't an "I love you" poem,

an "I miss you" poem,

a "do you love me?" poem,

a "did you ever love me?" poem,

a goodbye poem,

an "I want you back" poem,

an "I forgive you" poem,

an "I don't forgive you" poem,

a heartbreak poem,

a sleepless night poem,

a reminiscing poem,

a love struck poem,

a hurt poem,

an "I'm healing" poem,

a rant poem,

a fragile poem,

a strong poem,

a head-over-heels poem,

an "I'll wait for you" poem,

an "I'm over you" poem,

an "I think you might actually love me back" poem,

a giddy poem,

a bitter poem--

I don't know what kind of poem this is

but it works

because I don't know what we are either

run-on

I have nothing left

no more tears to cry

just salt stains on my hands & cheeks

exhausted, tired eyes

fears of the uncertainties

remind me this is not a dream

although every night when I fall asleep

I pray to God it will be

trivial worries

trivial words

suddenly everything lacks depth

everything lacks purpose

nothing is motivating

nothing seems worth it

because life is just a death sentence--

a run-on we try to make sense of--

and sometimes punctuation comes along

before we've had the chance to understand it

His eyes are growing tired comma

He paces comma

He doesn't sleep comma

He winces in pain when he thinks no one can see comma

People speak to him in a language of goodbyes comma

His words have all become sermons comma

Preaching to the choir that doesn't know how to carry on a melody without him comma

He observes everything so quietly comma

He breathes heavily comma

He kisses my mother comma

He holds her a bit tighter now comma

He holds her a bit longer now comma

He says "I love you" a little bit louder now comma

And I watch it all comma

Just praying that the punctuation comma

Continues to be a comma 

comma

And not a period

comma

Because I need there to be more commas.

There are lessons for him to teach me,

Guys I'll date that he will need to interrogate,

Taxes I need him to teach me how to do...

I need him to see me walk at graduation, for him to say 

"you did it kiddo, I'm proud of you."

I need him to dance with me at my wedding,

and see how happy I am on the day that I marry the man who will always remind me of him...

I need him to meet his grandchildren,

to be able to see into their little eyes 

and hold their tiny hands--

to kiss them and make them smile...

I need him to put me in line when I'm being selfish,

I need him to counsel me when it's time to correct the course,

I need him to push me when I don't know how to move forward,

I need him to be there to remind me what's most important,

I need more commas

I pray that God isn't particular about grammar,

That He'll allow me more commas than I'm likely to get,

That this life sentence can run-on longer than science says it can,

But no matter how many commas you give me,

God, 

I promise I will thank you

for each and every one

stress relief

Do Not Touch
Please do not
feed the feelings
false senses of hope.

sometimes my heart feels claustrophobic

and transparent all at the same time 

like its surrounded by a chainlink fence

and they poke it with sticks to see if it still beats for them

and they throw rocks at it to see if it will continue to contract & release & forgive 

and they stare at it amazed that even with all the stitches and scars, it could burst at the seams with all the love it still wants to give

they like to unstitch the red thread that has taken years to sew onto my sleeve

they sit back in complacency

and watch as it unravels me
every emotion of mine in full transparency

they like to pick up my heart and put it in their hands

testing the pressure points somewhere between loving me and hurting me

but my heart is more than a stress ball that they play with when they're bored

so that's why I built the chainlink fence

held together by lock and key

(both of which are carried by me)

because I don't owe them heartbeats,

and I've never believed that heart races are meant to have winners--

sometimes you're just meant to feel things

but you should know that my heart is not your stress ball 

and I am worth so much more 

than the apathetic way you love me when you're bored.

white noise

tests

papers

projects

finals

bills

assignments

credits

alarm clocks

bank accounts

passing biology

idiot guys

loading the dishwasher

roommate drama

emptying the dishwasher

jobs

going to the gym

eating

laundry

looking nice

taking notes

my march madness bracket

going to class

gas money

cleaning checks

getting out of bed

they seem important--

but it's all just white noise.

you think it matters...

and a week ago, so did I.

i never knew how fast the world could flip upside down. 

i know it's always rotating

ever-changing

but for me it took two seconds--

two syllables that changed everything

the sky fell that day.

and it felt like it didn't fall on anyone but me.

first my heart felt nothing

but my panicked lungs hyperventilated

then I felt everything

and with a heart that full, I suffocated

have you ever heard a word become a time-bomb?

I have.

and when I looked around to see the potential casualties, I saw myself included.

I saw the fear in dad's eyes.

two syllables have never scared me more:

can-cer.

since then, everything else has been white noise.

I love you Dad.

i am not your ash tray

i put my heart in the palm of your hand
and you set it aside
suffocating me with your complacence

while i fought for every breath
you smoked your cigars
one by one
losing me in the smoke behind you

you're addicted to the power
you're addicted to the upper-hand
you're addicted to feeling like a wanted man

you were never in this for me.

my chest was heavy
my ribcage frail
as my lungs began to collapse
i prepared to take one last breath

but in an instant my eyes were opened,
the weight in my chest lightened

sudden resuscitation

his every word breathed life back into my lungs
his sincerity patched up every missing piece you took
and his eyes became my careful protectors

he is all that you could never be.

but here you are sitting on my couch
trying to convince me that you're sorry...
an addict with severe withdrawals
of being what (i thought) i wanted.
still, your eyes search mine like a microscope
seeking any trace of vulnerability
any hint that i still care


but all you can see
is that i can breathe again


and suddenly you say you'll give up smoking.

SaveSave

rainboots

reckless puddle jumping

only leads to skinned knees

and tears on the concrete

i dipped my toe in the water

i thought it felt fine

but when i jumped

i thought he would catch me

my feet smacked the concrete

his love was too cowardly

the puddle soaked through my socks

a feeling i thought i hated

but i enjoyed being in your arms

and when i jumped

you thought you could catch me

but you and i were never concrete

my love was only skin deep

rain

                 falls

                                           effortlessly.

i wish i could do that too.

When you fall in love, it is discovering the ocean after years of puddle jumping. 
--Sarah Kay

I know I'll make it there someday soon.

the problem with expectations

it's another day of me asking myself

why i seek forever

out of everything that's temporary