sometimes I do ceremony.

I stick only to a daily morning
ritual and try to strengthen
some resolve with consumption.
I feed the cats, clean their
litter box, then stretch
and write my dreams down.
then I walk the neighborhood
to soak up sun.

sometimes I just
let things pass
like cravings or

we do that for others;

carry our grief quietly.

bury things deep

within ourselves.


I feel the root rot and darken
without altar, water
or speech.
you walk in and
I’m here now
growing into a black trunk.
you walk in and look
right at me
and I don’t know
where to begin.

but I found the
I begin to grow,
unfurl, hum



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