150. and a cardinal hit the window.


I may be reading the intro at our local vagina monologue performance.

I want to go back to friday, or saturday morning, curled up on the couch and not here, on tuesday, unable to handle the future because of fear. I don’t want want another sunday, full of melancholy songs but I want to find that blog post, that poem, stemming from a Sufjan song and focusing on grief and film and literature, the depth of seeing it from inside and outside.

I want to go back a year, go forward a month, but I wouldn’t give up the memories and the faith in deeply incredible friends. I want to focus nature back onto spring so my bones will stop rattling and my fingers will work.


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