The sun falls below far hills and the opposite of "nothing is left" occurs. May I not forget to be grateful for this love.
Moving quietly into the new family, the new community. Who knew that watering the garden was salvational, raise your hand.
Monarch butterly, first of the season, on the last of the tansy. Finally order.
I am a bad but happy dancer, i.e., "good/bad" is a fallacy. "Tell me why everything turned around."
Waist-high potato plants, may I never forget to be grateful for this love. Fighting in front of strangers and neighbors, the world is broken, what else do you expect.
What you experience is an illusion but that you experience is very very real. Dried semen on the chair arm where I write, maybe the rules around loneliness really are changing.
Nobody wants to sleep with the bass player. Don't be angry with the mirror, like you it's just reflecting what it's given to reflect.
Please, no more poems describing how it feels to be you, just describe what you see so the ones coming after you won't lose their way, i.e., stop pretending Emily Dickinson didn't teach you exactly what to do. Try this: you don't want to kill yourself, you just want somebody to say please don't kill yourself.
Heart as spectacle, soul as dog park. Saying yes to what we don't want, that part of the journey, and being done with that part of the journey, that part of the journey.
Shall we at last accept our place in the choir? There is a light in you I read Shogun by a thousand miles away.