sometimes when i’m flying i look around and wonder why people think the sky’s so big and great when it’s only got three measly colors— blue, white, and gray maybe— hardly the majestic set of ingredients you’d use to bake a slice of heaven.

P—, perla de Miami, mini conquistadora mía, te mando esta nota desde Mallorca, solo pa’ decir hola y que todavía sueño de tus ojos de diamante y tu voz radiante abriendo tu corazón cantando muy calladito diciendo que estas cansado apagando las luces en el cielo.

when talk therapy isn’t enough i try other things like walk therapy and eat therapy and kiss therapy and stretch therapy and text therapy and tiktok therapy and instagram therapy and new music friday therapy wake up and walk to the sunrise therapy morning dew on a lily pad therapy ocean waves crashing therapy plunge into the ice cold bay therapy single americano with pistachio biscotti therapy roll around giggling in the leaves therapy mull a move to the redwoods therapy purchase six nonrefundable flights therapy dive right in the brasilian wax therapy throw up crying in the bathroom therapy decadent cup of chocolate therapy dance in the club alone therapy hot femme fun and games therapy keep it cuuuuuuuuute therapy take photos in the mirror therapy snap a million wildflowers therapy gaze the moon move therapy jump into the fire therapy splashing creek therapy swallow shroom therapy plan a party therapy plan another party therapy call my best friend therapy call another best friend therapy call another best friend therapy call another best friend therapy go to a friend’s father’s funeral therapy tell my friends i love them therapy tell my family i love them therapy tell myself i love me therapy meet a new dog therapy and look into the eyes of the dog, and pat the head of the dog, and feed bits of chicken to the dog, and scratch the heck outta the neck of the dog, and imagine myself kissing the head of MY dog, and remember that she’ll be a dead dog one day, and remember that i’ll be a dead dog one day, and remember that i’m alive today, and remember to live today like a lucky dog therapy.

what do I believe to be true?

i am here and it is now—

i’m alive and i will die—

peace is the dream and love is the way.

one day all this hair will fall out one day my breathing will cease one day my skull will turn to powder

but until then i’ll dance until then i’ll breathe until then i’ll be me

and maybe beyond that too.

bless the sky and bless the rain and bless the streets and bless the people and bless the brass and bless the drums and bless the strings and bless the voice and bless the words that bless these things and bless your love and bless your truth and bless this mess because the mess is you.

want something to do with you want love thing to do with you want dumb thing to do with you want drunk thing to do with you want slam dunk to do with you

want anything to do with you want bunny thing to do with you want money thing to do with you want honey thing to do with you want onion thing to do with you

even if you don't want anything to do with me that's okay because i

i met a middle-aged woman named Lynn in Denver. i told her i had an an aunt named Lynn in Fort Collins.

i met a young woman named Molly, who had just gotten out of a long relationship, had cried in the train restroom the night before, and the next morning had written poetry about it.

i met a Bengali girl named Zen. i smiled when she told me this. well, she explained, that was not the name her parents had given her, it was the shortened version of a band name she liked, which she’d adopted as her new name. she was 22, and was traveling with her husband, 34. they had fallen in love seven years earlier, she said, but they had known each other for many years before that. she was three months in America, he had been here since childhood. they both considered themselves students of some ice man who argued that icy cold showers and baths made you a more powerful being. freedom was theirs, they believed fiercely, and they fiercely, joyously laughed in love every time they were together. whenever they spoke, they looked directly at me with clear, confident eyes. when i pointed out to Zen that we both had the same purple phone, she softly pinched my hand.

the unicorn and the blackbird sit in a puddle of tears iridescent depressed but impressed with the sunshine still emanating from each others' eyes.

beans and rice and tears shivers and piano scales the dog’s worried eyes no cumin in the pantry.