bowl cereal milk pour cereal pour milk grab spoon enjoy!

seemingly centered  plausibly relaxed surrounded by hard earth darkness encroaching waiting to engage the world she sat with her legs crossed  peering into the depths of the future

Sailing in the dark Past harbors and anchored bays To the misted morn.

Yoga, meditation, too my body needs you hands touch the floor stretch my brain into four so it can think more hour twenty is here this ritual I hold dear I stretch my hands high for a metaphor of sky then jump up three times…

Mornings set the tone of the day, and patterns comfort the mind that seeks rhythm, meter, color schemes, and conspiracies.   I rise and evacuate in the lavatory across the hall as I shed sleep. Pulling out the copper wishbone, I rinse and scrape my…

decade ahead of me more misery little joy ~flip~flopping~ changing me into my own stranger

Cross barred Gordon reminded by the stroke of eleven Sweet briar Mary was waiting at the Ceilidh  But graves dug deep and marked rest in peace Prevent the dead from keeping their promises

I’ve a routine which consists of Avoiding routine. Rerouting.   Never exit and enter through the same door, You never know who is waiting in the corridor. A pissed off orator, or ex.   My son, every morning Our routine was eggs, But no more…

Reclining in my nest Surrounded by my loves – Past, present, future— Beckoning me towards Dreams and desires but The screen atop my lap Umbilicaled to the lightening Holds me down Keeps me in place As I drift away with the night

Rituals   I count my days ~ free from one of lifes worst addictions   documenting each day lived through pictures and words handmade   I will always  be an addict   I just choose other outlets   I count my steps as my consistency…