of bitterness since.

Right before I died, I thought,

In the afterlife, I’ll apply for a job

at a mistake factory. They’ll be awed

by my résumé. If anything, I’m overqualified.

But there’s no place where they make

mistakes here. Everyone is flawless.

Everyone’s blunders are photoshopped

right off their lives before

they even happen. Is this heaven

or hell? I can’t tell. I looked

that famous carpenter up

in the phone book, but his number

wasn’t listed, and I need to ask him

where to find the wood to build

some missteps. I’m not about to spend

eternity burning in the lie that holy

and perfect are the same thing.

Do you understand?

A promised land

is not a promised land

if I can’t keep learning.

HOW THE WORST DAY OF MY LIFE BECAME THE BEST

When you are trapped in a nightmare, your motivation

to awaken will be so much greater than that of someone

caught up in a relatively pleasant dream. –Eckhart Tolle

When I realized the storm

was inevitable, I made it

my medicine.

Took two snowflakes

on the tongue in the morning,

two snowflakes on the tongue

by noon.

There were no side effects.

Only sound effects. Reverb

added to my lifespan,

an echo that asked—

What part of your life’s record is skipping?

What wound is on repeat?

Have you done everything

you can to break

out of that

groove?

By nighttime, I was intimate

with the difference

between tying my laces

and tuning the string section

of my shoes, made a symphony of walking

away from everything that did not

want my life

to sing.

Felt a love for myself so consistent

metronomes tried to copyright

my heartbeat.

Finally understood I am the conductor

of my own life and will be even after I die.

I, like the trees, will decide what I become:

porch swing?

Church pew?

An envelope that must be licked

to be closed?

Kinky choice, but

I didn’t close.

I opened

and opened

until I could imagine the pain

was the sensation of my spirit

not breaking,

that my mind was a parachute

that could always open

in time,

that I could wear my heart

on my sleeve and never grow

out of that shirt.

That every falling leaf is a tiny kite

with a string too small to see, held

by the part of me in charge

of making beauty

out of grief.

LIFE SENTENCE

I finally have a wrist that is sharper than the blade.

NOT ALONE

In 2005, former Canadian Minister of Defense

Paul Hellyer sat before a council and said publicly

for the first time, UFOs are as real

as the airplanes flying overhead, said it is known

why sightings dramatically increased after the explosion

of the first atom bomb in the New Mexico desert.

Said the universe has been watching us

break our promise to be good stewards of our earth.

Before my mother ever pointed my eyes

toward the snow falling in Orion’s hair,