I didn’t write today.

I didn’t write today.

I didn’t write today because….


I didn’t write today because I was busy,



I didn’t write today because I wasn’t moved to.

I would rather give you my best in movement than my halfhearted in attempt at regularity. So I didn’t. Write. I sat. I observed. I saw the world as my inside child does and I felt free. I had realizations about just where I am and what I want to do and I didn’t feel bad about that.

I didn’t write today but I did speak my ancestors language and it was foreign to waumpeshau and they looked at me with questions but I had no answers because I didn’t care enough to give them comfort. So I smiled. I felt my queerness. My oddity. My sense of something bigger than just I, Me, Mine.

I felt whole. More ready to handle the world and remember just who I am. Who I come from. I consulted the ancestors in the early morning hours and we had tea and more tea.

I love tea.

I remembered that my art is the most important thing to my life and my core so I made plans to do it more and take risks on myself.

I sat inside of myself and saw myself from what I must look like on the outside and I blossomed. From the weight. From the warm.

From great amazing too good to be true sex

and the sun rising

and breath falling and rising

my head on your chest your heart beat

and not enough time and too soon

and right now and maybe later

And please stop talking

and yes I’m hungry

but I’m not ready to eat and be full so just gimme this cracker.

This fruit.

This pineapple and orange.

This something else this art

This make sense of it all

This disbelief

This suspension of other


I didn’t write today. But I did fly.

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