A planet that spins and rotates on her axis, regardless of my teeth-shattering protests during the winter months. She doesn’t give a shit about the $340 traffic ticket I received this morning, or the fact that I was late opening the gallery. She just keeps spinning, creating days which turn to years which turn to millennium. She’ll spin until our galaxy collides with another. My little worries and frustrations are so microscopic. So much energy wasted on such trivial things. I’m only but a very tiny part of this blue planet and for a very short period of time. I think I’ll go plant a tree.
Waking to write, and watch Jack Frost work his winter touch.
In Nature we see there is no story, that every legend, fable, myth is desperate.
Sometimes I wake up hopeful in the morning.
My people call...
Flashcards. New schema for new territory.
After the musk and scent of sweat and desperate breath...
Somedays you either laugh or cry unintentionally.
The lull of Salish swaying below me.
The Intruder that breaks the silence