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
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