Day 486.

Today's breakfast, set to the soundtrack of "The Love Below" by OutKast:

Iced coffee from Sweet Adeline with a splash of half and half and a splash of soy
A whole wheat tortilla with a couple slivers of organic monterey jack cheese melted onto it. A couple of mushrooms, a leaf of kale, some pinto beans, and part of a green onion stalk all sauteed together, and folded into the tortilla along with some fresh green onion, a dollop of organic whole milk yogurt, half of a small avocado, and some Valentina hot sauce.
A bowl of cherries. Please find above, the last of the breakfast dessert cherries.

Day 485.

Last year, on this day, I walked out of the side door of my old home and stepped into our small concrete yard in the morning, ready to go to work, and it was hailing. I began to cry and walked back inside, had to go find my partner at the time and have him tell me it was going to be okay.

I like marking the days like this. Next June 1st, I will look back and maybe not remember this day at all, or maybe remember it as the day I woke up and got on a conference call about Disability Justice, got canceled on by a friend, and hung out with another friend and talked about healing and intentional self-work and relationships while lounging by the Fairyland sign.

I look forward to these markers. I look forward to looking back and remembering, last year, such and such thing happened, not having anything to do with my ex, or my old home, or my old sadness, or the hail on the first day of June. I look forward to next year. I look forward to the days to come. I look forward.

Day 484.

On the phone with my sister. 

What if we fell asleep and we woke up and the ocean was swallowing us? 

Day 483.

Day 482.

( <--- I had just sneezed.)

Some Kind Of Poem.

i know of sorrow in torrents.
my heart is bending, learning
how to be with a trickle that may or may not become a stream
weaving between and through
the crocuses and wildflowers.
it picks up some sticks along the way
leaves behind some mud,
smooths rocks,
and sometimes, joined by all the other
tributaries
ends in that warm and wide pool
my young body once slid down a moss slide
and pierced the still surface of,
before languishing on large rocks
baking like pie crust in the gift of the sun.

Day 481.

My face betrays everything.

Day 480.