cocoon 

the pressure from the 

black cocoon cracks 

i am free, 

sprouted 

with wings 

// 

rosmarie has transitioned 

to the new world 

she’s the elder i care give for 

& she’s ready to transition 

// 

the tv is on 

as i brush rosmarie’s silver 

hair 

it falling & catching on the 

comb

she asks me to put her 

hair outside 

for the birds to build 

their nests 

imagine transitioning & 

still thinking of the birds 

// 

while i’m bringing rosmarie tea 

her body frail & bedridden 

with a spirit strength 

the tv talks about young buddhist 

monks 

hoping to escape the 

cycle of life & death 

when i take rosmarie to the bathroom, 

with her partner fritz, we take her 

from the bed to the wheelchair to 

the toilet

fritz wheels her into the bathroom & 

i lift her — all of her — in my arms

for a few moments 

as she’s in the air, fritz says “don’t drop 

her”

it feels like holding two lives at once 

i’m usually on the other side of the 

circle of life 

// 

holding babies or toddlers, walking or 

driving 10-year-olds to school, pushing 

strollers through dappled sunlight 

the pilli, the children are full of potential

this is the same & different 

giving care, bottles, changing diapers, changing clothes, cooking but on the other side of life, 

if there are sides to the circle 

as i do the dishes or cook, i utter 

prayers 

prayers of healing, prayers of love 

sometimes i think of how much 

this society — the dominant society 

of that myth called america 

—  fails its people 

how we should have community on turtle 

island — access to tonantzin tlalli — the 

earth, our mother 

how in truth we live in a world 

of abundance 

how lack is manufactured 

in the kitchen, fritz is watching 

cnn 

the anchor is going on about how 

fish are swimming in circles then 

dying, “baffling scientists”

i bet it is, i mutter under my breath 

something about neurotoxins 

it reminds me of what violet 

said — that animals were offering 

themselves to help the human collective 

it reminds me of the indigenous 

prophecy that the poles would switch 

ollin — great movements of energy 

as the world ends & begins 

“every single day, i can go out & see 

the fish struggling & spinning & dying,” 

one scientist says 

i feel the same way about people 

// 

in danza, we spin to the huēhuētl, 

the beat of the drum, the song of 

the cosmos 

i was spinning entering 

danza 

spinning 

from being plucked, or maybe 

falling — from another world 

spinning 

from the tongues cut from 

my mouth 

that i 

recover 

— three at least —

spanish 

arabic 

nahuatl 

spinning 

from the disorientation of an 

old world aflame

an old world dying

palestinian 

child 

limbs 

splashed across screens 

next to ads & recipes & 

contouring 

la vida es sagrada 

toda vida es sagrada 

spinning 

from housing insecurity 

from a stomach too 

tight with stress to eat 

spinning from homophobia 

at supposed home 

spinning from the homeless 

encampments 

which only grow 

until they are cleaned 

it’s always the word 

cleansing 

for violence done to the 

people 

spinning from the freeway 

taken to danza 

the 210 

to the 605 

to the 60 

the concrete over tongva land

grey, covering wildflower &

memory 

covering blood, water, vida 

but not erasing it 

just layering ugly

over beauty 

to try to have us forget 

our true nature 

— our divine nature—

that we are 

the wildflowers 

we are the birds 

& their call 

we are ilhuicatl, the heavens 

as they open & sing 

as the clouds 

shift in each moment of each day, 

light & color & form 

we are the fire 

& we are the water 

& we are the wind 

& we are the earth, tonantzin 

tlalli, tonantzin coatlique 

teotzin 

that there is no separation 

that there was never another 

that our fates are linked 

because like mushrooms growing 

at the roots of trees

we are connected 

speaking to each other in 

dreams & waking life 

co-creating with yocoyani

with creator 

because this song is ours 

& we sing it as it 

sings us too 

spinning from the ancestors awakened

rattled 

with rattles 

to join the 

revolution 

the awakening 

the people liberated 

returning 

to the 

circle of life 

// 

as i take out the trash in rosmarie’s room, 

tying the 

green plastic into a bow 

the tv goes on about 

morpho butterflies 

how their iridescent    

cobalt blue doesn’t fade 

when they die 

how it endures

catching & 

reflecting light

just like

in life 

// 

i don’t believe in death 

as an end 

anymore 

only transformation 

only energy spun & made new 

only surrender of the known

that traveled by crawling 

to enter flight 

only in the lilies — the pink 

ones & the white ones —

as you enter 

the pyramids at teotihuacán 

only in the rebirth of our people & 

the earth 

death, the bridge 

// 

in memory of rosmarie 

free palestine