I did not use the past tense, the past tense used me. The one who is clear, does not deviate, and how we are made grateful thereby.
This relative lack of confusion, in a life mostly characterized by confusion. The glass bottles in the hay loft are both empty and full, all morning I kneel before them, happy and amazed.
Something changed or shifted, and I followed it, almost as if I were being carried by a current. What do you forget and how do you know?
Unwilling disciples. At a late juncture it occurs to me I love refolding the quilt we lay on the floor to make love on almost as much as I love making love to you on an open quilt.
There is no next life but there are other lives, truly. Bird song at five a.m., I don't pretend I understand it, I accept now the difficult beauty of being comprised of limits.
Men who profess to regret the pain their actions cause but not the actions themselves. My father's antique tractor, a life he grasped too loosely too late.
A space in my living our relationships neither reaches nor was intended to reach. Jacking off in the hay loft, picturing her blowing me in a little kitchenette in a little cottage on Cape Cod in late November.
Mysteries are optional. How close the crows come now and how there is no way to understand this but to see that we are dying and they are the angels who will take us into the sky.
What happens in the Cave of the Heart stays in the Cave of the Heart. How shall I respond to you then if not according to the will of God as in my brokenness I understand that will?
Thunder and lightning. Only one other woman has wanted my attention as badly as you do and she did not like to share either.