477: grey

Grey is winter. January. It soaks into my skin, saturates my cells, sinks me into its weight like a hide, held on by wrinkles of fog and thick folds of melancholy. To assuage this elephantine appearance I determine to find another way. The fog, the grey, there in the...

476: fresh stick of chalk

the model we choose to use to understand something determines whatever we find with this in mind I stand before the reflection intent on wiping the slate of my mind clean of the forms that have left a chalky residue use extra effort to turn away clinging dust from the...

475: I will not be afraid

I will not be afraid of living the long days spread out like confetti at Time Square on New Year’s even at midnight scattered but intentioned I will not be taken by the dark days my soul must face for while lonely to the darkness the solitude no balm for...

474: I need her to

I need her to stop to go to finish I tell myself while heart clenches hands fist head furrows this is not true I need to stop release let go she will in good time

473: Mary Oliver

You don’t want to hear the storyof my life, and anywayI don’t want to tell it, I want to listen to the enormous waterfalls of the sun. And anyway it’s the same old story – – –a few people just trying,one way or another,to survive. Mostly, I want to be kind.And nobody,...