12:12

It wasn't until later that I understood what she meant when she said, “the tenant painted over the growth wall,” and then I was incredibly sad I hadn't understood in the moment. Though her flow was forward I could have clarified my confusion.

Wood smoke at night. Striated moonlight. Open rib cage.

Today cardinals as much as blue jays. Red takes the stage and I give it all my attention. The weather reporter said, “it's a very mammatus morning in Grand Rapids” and that seemed just about right.

Trump signs and flags larger than normal ,every third house, every street, everywhere. White knuckles on the steering wheel as my stomach churns an internal sack of nails.

It's cold enough for sweatshirts and I simply can't believe it. Me and my denial.

Yesterday, I was overtaken with some kind of crazy huge love. I noted the time because I had to pull the car over until it passed: 12:12. I was asked to pass it on and I did; I passed it on so hard. I don't always understand these things but I am always grateful.

Heart-shaped stones. Breakfast casseroles. Baritone saxophone. Days have a new shape and I'm not sure what to make of it. Open palms; the best way.

Lately, the investigation of masculine and feminine. That marriage. Union of Self. The energy of Oneness. Spiritual work. Submitting to Love.

Bodies in separation. Connection not relationship. Learning. Evolving.

We build the place for landing, beyond here. The distance is the only way we could do it. We chose it because we wanted something for everyone. We chose it because we are strong.

Now there is yellow and red in the green. September comes without reserve. Sure, the moon goes to harvest, all big and yellow. But I would sacrifice the closeness of its face for a few more months of leisurely sunlight gliding through the trees.

What I cannot harness moves forward to give unto the cosmos in a new way. What we've set in motion will save the day. No backsies indeed!