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jannablopez

2023 SF Poet Laureate ambsdr
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Spent 3 days in Austin, Texas working 1-on 1 with

Spent 3 days in Austin, Texas working 1-on 1 with Martin Jones, head of Austin Studios, guiding him towards fulfilling a dream of writing, and finishing a personal book, looking back on all of his adventures in his life, and in the film industry. The first night I was there we went to dinner at Lafonda San Miguel, and I got to go up and introduce myself to Brené Brown, who was dining there that night! The next day I lead a creative innovation workshop with a selected group of amazing Austin community leaders. It was truly an honor to watch all of their breakthroughs unfold. All in all, an amazingly productive and creatively fulfilling three days in the Lonestar state. 🎸😎🤠

{wind dream poem} It’s strange. I’m sailing in

{wind dream poem} It’s strange. I’m sailing in a large metal bucket, filled with water, above a hillside in flames. Sparks linger before my eyes, orange fireflies frantically searching for home. Only, beneath a slab of iron smoke home vanished. My bucket of water is ambiguous—am I meant to dump water to save someone or something? Or does the water serve as a moat of protection as flames encroach? Either way, I must sail through a shower of embers; face the chaos; fly into remnants of ash and bone as a human alive. Alive to debris. In solidarity with charred hearts. Embers carrying wedding photo dust. Embers holding word ghosts from old lovers, once-boxed letters reposed in a closet or garage. Embers floating, above angry hillsides consumed by heat and fury decimating secrets that once lived between sheets and walls of houses that perished. All a house holds—objectsfurniturephotosdreamspetspaintingslampsplantsfooddisheslovelossflowersbathsoaptowelssuitsshowercapscarsplanscomputersdocumentstimebirthdaypartiesfuneralsforkswinebooksandmorebookstreasuresdrapeswindowsalifetimeofstuffthatmeanteverythingnowdustandrubble. Memories incinerated. Memories ignited. Sentimental objects that might’ve been held, admired, for one mere moment, had winds been kind. gusts. w i l d.

g
o
n e. . .

grace for the mothers

no one said mothers
as one—
with one—
would get all mysterious
impervious boxes
stacked, lined, loved, stored

a holy tetris, we are not

for my own 2 lovelies
i stretch limbs
sacrificed every thirsty morsel
poured every well-drop
into growing mouths
please please please please
i pray…
in the name of eternal love
arrange an implausible—
perfect human imperfection
just for them

still, somehow
corners turn towards shadow
as mother

where does grace birth?
as child,

just for me
i silently endorsed
perfection
from human imperfection
i silently demanded
implausible arrangements

birth grace as child
birth grace for mothers

her eternal love resides
she must have her own alter
where prayers of hope and sorrow
become droplets
pooled into well water
to pour
to pour

lineages of time and
limbs scattered into
maternal stars,
a constellation
of forgotten grace

Sign up for writing lab 2025 before 12/31 and the

Sign up for writing lab 2025 before 12/31 and the FREE 20-page Writing BlockBuster booklet is yours! https://jannalopez.com/product/writing-lab-2025-focus-feedback-form/

⭐️⚡️Writing Lab 2025! sign up today!⚡️

⭐️⚡️Writing Lab 2025! sign up today!⚡️⭐️ monthly writing/coaching/guidance sessions last Monday eve of the month. Sign up and info ⬇️ Don’t have your writing be lost or last on your list!!!! https://jannalopez.com/product/writing-lab-2025-focus-feedback-form/

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