a weekend away.

what have I learned? nothing. this week? nothing. it's probably sitting in the back of my mind together with all the dog hairs from my brother's dog, and all of the little crumbs from my nephew's cookies, and filled with some of the sand that blew while we were there. there's some sun on my face which doesn't rub off, and the keys in this keyboard feel heavier than usual. I have been outside, learned nothing. I allowed myself not to. I didn't think for a split second that I could gain something from just suddenly being with my family. I didn't learn anything from the people I think I already know, but there's somewhere in this world where a family is gathering for dinner - an imperfect, unmatched dinner - where nobody shows love in the conventional way, rather, we show up, we listen, we make jokes. that's what we've learned - to love in the unconventional places.

thursday

is there a reason for me to be awake today?
i will find it,
in the silent moving of dead flowers
a stream a hardwater running down a pebbled road
an empty gas station with an abandoned mitsubishi delica
or the smell of someone's kitchen in the evening,
slowly creeping through the windows 
and flooding into these quiet streets;
i'll find it,
there might be no reason to be moving forward,
but to be awake, only awake and alive,
is a gift enough