things i found in my small coral bag with the long strap:
- two soft pills filled with tan powder, unidentifiable
- a broad wooden disc bead with rounded edges, one of the beads davida gave out in cal anderson park before she moved to humboldt county
- two orange earplugs from a punk show at the sugartown house in salt lake city two days ago
the only books i brought with me are philosophy and self-help; the only others around written by a man who makes me angry. and tonight i only i want to read poetry, and i want to turn pages, not scroll screens. but i sit anyway on this machine, reading what i can find of wisława szymborska, turning my lips to tripping attempts at prayer. i am not so scared tonight. things feel soft. i let myself breathe without too much tension held. these mountains are not those of my childhood, claimed by children of a faith that scares me, but i can ask them to cradle me. i may do that if i wish. i am. tonight i am in a room in an ashram made of dark wood in the semi-rural utah valley, beneath the curves of a lace tablecloth pinned to the ceiling and ganesh on the wall --- tonight i live with peacock feathers and the beat of mrdangas where the wagons of the descendants of brigham young made long-forgotten ruts in the sulfur-rich soil --- tonight i will dream of places i'd never thought i go --- tonight i love what i float in and i can forgive anything that helped bring me here.
this great expanse of land that is my three month home was once an inland sea
i'm feeling more okay with my face lately.
it is 34 degrees outside. :)