I no longer find blue jay feathers as often as I used to. I look for them everywhere and I wonder where I went wrong.
“Everyone cheats these days,” he said.
The silence that followed was like cold coffee slipping down my throat.
The pain in my left hip has been getting worse and there is a new pain in my right hamstring at the insertion point of the ischial tuberosity and I didn't know 38 would feel like this.
I brought wildflowers home last night. White snakeroot and goldenrod. An offering to the deer skull, gathered from the same place where I found him.
I think a season has shifted inside me. I’m right at the edge and I can’t quite fully know what it will look like, but it feels like hibernation, slow nights in the kitchen, books too heavy to hold, communing with trees, old music and vintage glasses filled with bourbon, bitters, and sweet vermouth.
45 sleeps till I light my eyes on fire with a desert sunset.
“I shivered in those
when I heard
in the desert.”
― Pablo Neruda
I'm ready to move to a new home. I'm wishing for scuffed hardwood floors, a front porch, and windows that draw in the most alluring light.
I think about adopting a dog every day. It kills me.
I wonder why so many people are careless. With their time, with their words, with other hearts. I am no exception.
I miss my friends who are deeply immersed with their new lives these days. Eyes forward, the world is big, and there is so much to experience. I've been there, too. If you’re reading, I love you.
I told them that I’m finally a faerie. My cycle has synced up with the new moon. I’m fertile when the earth is fertile, I pulse in rhythm with nature.
I left some memories at the back door of a thrift store on Clay's Mill.
I threw Colorado into Shawnee Run Creek.
I set fire to paper + ink with a book of County Club matches.
I think in a past life I had an epic record collection.