Deep Roots

My days lately are made
up of hot rooms, meditation,
writing and a great deal of

 The book I’m writing,
every paragraph I say
thank you. For every intricate
gift within this concise
reality. Thank you that I’m

not smashing cell phones
with bottles of Tangurray.
Thank you that I got out of
that winter, that relationship,
and I learned what it means
to wake up with the Sun.

Thank you that I don’t stare at
the intersection of Ashland and
Wilson anymore. Thank you that I
care. Thank you that I don’t.


Thank you for my pretty hair and
decaf coffee in the morning. I am
grateful for every canvas I’ve ever
sold. For every canvas I haven’t sold.


Thank you that I’m not so
miserable that I believe my
pain is
as a result of some outside source and
that some outside source can fix

Thank you for my fear and
for those moments that I am not

Thank you for chapstick.
Thank you for honey crisp apples.
Thank you for the ability to feel
all that is


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