[sea of boxes]

Things are somewhat chaotic at the moment. My apartment is only the size of my bed. I have been conducting my life indoors on a queen-sized island amidst stacks of various boxes. By Sunday we'll be moved-in and at least then the space will be larger. I hope that unpacking and organizing takes no longer than a week. I hate feeling like I can only exist in tiny corners off of a few select items.

 Plus James has been in Portland for the last few days and whenever he's away for more than a night I have this tendency to revert back to anxious behaviors.  At least I am getting things done though: homework, work work, throwing away as many personal items as possible, feeding the animals, cleaning litter boxes (5),  I've even gathered all prudent paperwork for my food stamps revision.  I know I'll feel better tomorrow night and even more calm once all of our moving is done.
This year is a big year.
Last year was a big year.
I Love that life progresses beautifully but I will be quite content with all the small years to come. I am a little tired. But only a little.

[Oatmeal]

I'm pretty excited. James and I sign the lease on our new place this Saturday. I've already reserved movers for the 30th so everything is just packing boxes until then. We bought furniture over the weekend. My dream bed.

Several years ago I attempted making my own upholstered head board. It was pretty terrible. This is much more thrilling. Oatmeal is a wonderful colour. We are also expecting an oak dining room set and a plum couch. Everything else will have to be accumulated over time but this feels like a delightful start. This is our first home together. Everywhere else has been his or mine first but this, this is another new place.

  My heart is so happy. We finally get to settle cozily into our very own nest. The other day James said we'd be able to stay for years. And we will. It's just the right spot and we both rejoice in the idea pushing roots into fresh soil.

             I wish it could be October forever. The world is crisp and the sunsets are so white. My instinct to hold onto everything isn't waining yet. Perhaps winter will prove to be renewing again. hmmm. hopes.

[weekend straight]

The Great Pumpkin Beer fest! we were home and drunk and full of tasty autumn treats. Beer right out of pumpkins with spouts and taps and I wish it were butter beer but we can only do so much.
The night before we braved the chills and gathered in an open stadium for Sounders for the very first time. Everyone said 'you suck asshole' and there were tribal drums surrounded by victory. When things are good we raise up our hands and clap.

This morning we found cats curled near our sides to keep warm and bunnies under covers. Their ears back is the best thing I can see.  Breakfast meant special doughnuts with coffees and I did math homework while trying (poorly) not to cry. James is good and knows about fractions and how to kiss my face. Lunch on bananas and light rail to the International District for INScape installation art. I thought the peeling walls emphasizing awkwardly lit bathrooms were more beautiful than the tied white sheets but what do I know about art? At the end I wanted to be at home pasting tissue to canvas- sometimes I cry in it but you don't tell people that because no one wants to know the depths of anyone else's sadness. Instead we walked determinedly through the Market and I pretended not to care about all the slow moving men with babies. We found golden beets, and garlic, celery root, and cabbage. There is the largest pot now stocked with borscht in the fridge we will eat for days.
In between we kiss on the lips and watch seemingly endless films of Sherlock Holmes.

[happy]

it's windy. I am living off the promise of winter. it must arrive. it always arrives.

I am in love. that means whatever it does but oh, my heart is lifted.
sometimes we kiss and then we cry a little, and we laugh and it is very good.

[over and up]

[untitle I]

pressing through.
she could wait and wait for
you. She doesn't forget
how to dress how to eat
how to hold onto the pieces of
skin you let her have. It isn't
just a body, or her body or
yours. It is the small
of the back, the heavy in the front
and the baby. and the baby. Not a
baby, just few a cells, she didn't
get to touch it. Not a thing.

[food poisoning]

I am dying. or I was dying. Not to be melodramatic or anything. Just writhing in pain if you want to know. My head is all spins and and my stomach is clenched and my ears are heavy and my chest is full and then airy. My whole body is vibrating to some sickly rhythm. I don't want to take part anymore but whomever decides such things simply does not care. I am trying to be excited about reunion, and soft orange cats, and soggy October's.
my heart is not in it.

[you must be new]

In heaviness there are lies
told. The sky will do
what it wants, it does not care for
expectations
or how prepared your heart
was. It thunders at will
and you must withstand
the heavy rumble through
your bones, you must
shake the lightning from
the tendrils of your
hair. And be new and
hold your mouth-- you
must not let a word
reach the sky.