where in the waldo carmen sandiego world is my toothbrush? where?
how is it now past 2 am already?
why are messages, calls, ribbons of affection perpetually unrequited?
why do i feel compelled to give like i will never scrape a bottom?
why do i not remember ... or ... daily? and their beauty, strength, love and grace upon my life
how can i nourish an attitude of gratitude
how can i explain to the professor that i am not ready nor is the assignment for tomorrow
meditating on the peace i can feel
genuinely inviting it into my life
i'm hungry
i still want to brush my teeth
the sink is a dish
Shu tells me i should learn Chinese
i feel better after cleaning
a cluttered room is a cluttered mind
trying to seek joy in what
who, where, how i have and am
present moment wonderful moment
kneading through the needs
so much to be reading
whatever
this moment is temporary
so is this year
yet still a piece of the puzzle
can this be qualified as poem?
probably not, but it is my excuse to be committed to something
daily
writing
daily
writing and doing it daily
seed planting, branch sprouting
someday it will be spring
and life will ring from open bird beaks
and peaks of hills with flowers
--"not the flowers, please, just shut up"
-"okay, goodnight, i love you."
--"goodnight, i love your crazy ass"
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