"Our memory of dreams is a glimpse of the full spiritual life that each of us leads beyond the physical." -- Harold Klmep

Blog,

My plant is doing so well outside, in the sun. I wish that I could bring it into my bedroom.

I am slowly relearning the rituals I started for myself in Chicago.

I drank stock this morning.

Before coffee.

I am also learning new rituals.

Last night it rained so hard I could not see the road.

Collin drove me home.

We listened to Lenard Cohen.

When we parked,

the rain stopped long enough

for me to walk inside.

I wonder if I can write poetry

of silence.

Language is beginning

to recede in my body.

It is hard to pull it up and out.

I am going to try submerging myself

in water.