Wednesday, October 11, 2017


i thank the desert for humbling me again, bringing me back in after i spoke sour and shaming.
i thank the dirt and creosote for crawling under my nails, and into my locks, and through my sinuses and across the wood floors.
i thank the pink meteor fire-grapejuice-burgundy sunsets that rip my heart out and trigger the trains - those stupid trains -haunt my sleep, whistle into my dreams - and remind me that choices do exist.
i thank the weight and responsibility i feel again, the one that had drained in imperceivable drips, year after year, when i lived in California.
i thank the eagles, and owls, and coyotes, and the blooming saguaros. you've given me meditation, a voice, silence, memories. life again