maybe for its peace, its tranquility, something akin to death  the waters are still  the mountains are pink there’s a desert haze in the air, as if nostalgia could be a hue  the moon is risen and almost full a whiteness in an otherwise cloudless blue sky  if this wasn’t enough  there’s a kangaroo watching me write this and birds chittering their ceaseless songs isn't it wonderful that not only places, but people and colors and weather and entire ecosystems can be a home

gurgling water from the radiator  sunlight breaking its way through the slats  in those horrible, plastic-pleated shades  a plush bed and an even softer body  softness embodied in a person, asleep sherbet sunrise contrasting the black naked skeletons of trees in winter hibernation  contemplation point  a squirrel's fattened body nested into the nook of a branch, scavenging breakfast with a lakefront view  and the geese you heard flying overhead hours ago now floating in the i

in time and place  i am spring in the desert  it is wild flowers in granite fractures   growth amidst chaos and tranquility in stolen moments  i am beginning again with everything else  i am  entire ecosystems in hidden crevasses  and fossils littered with past lives i am finding wonder in all the little things  in driving perpetually west through spring … so when it is time to go, let it be in spring  amidst the desert solitaire

Picnic Point, NSW Australia the whales are returning south  they are coming home, in a sense  after escaping out of a cold and burdensome winter  they are returning to warmer waters  coming into themselves  i watch them play as they travel south  it brings wetness to my cheeks  thinking how they too play and feel and change with the seasons  i am also traveling south, down the coast  so far they have been everywhere with me  i sit and watch, being bathed in peace  it is a bap

I. today I learned about black holes, and here is what I learned about life: keep trying. be uncomfortable. stay learning.  II. I am finding I tend to hide in the studying, in the admiring and preparing,  rather than in the being, the emanating.  not always, but sometimes, I find this to be true. III. and so I laid there  abusing myself with only the idea of you.  I did not need to but  in a sense, I was bored  and you were not here.  my friend said to me:  a man is not going

10:58 pm I am shaking the comforter into the duvet cover  and it hits me like a thunderstorm in summer the finality of it all, the suddenness  and I think how you would hate this, remembering when you slept with only a comforter for months the mundanity of it is the truest form of intimacy I have ever known  but it is December and the ends of things are rushing forward  the clattering of a subway pulling up to its next stop  because the city makes me think of you and doing la

the grasses greeted me with open arms  beckoning me forward on their soft patches  along the babbling brook the longer i walked, the...

and all of us girls - women in most senses,  but i think our souls younger - laid here with our bellies hanging out  and up and down and...

the white faced heron and i  met again we did the box step  each pausing for great lengths  looking at the other  i tried to convey...

i am a reptile  let me sun bathe in the desert  and let my mind stretch out.  Archive: January 19, 2025