It is starting to feel good to write again.

How often I say, I can’t complain
and then complain.
My apartment, if you’re reading this
is bigger than yours.
Not to brag.

I asked for the smallest thing they had
and they said here
A place so big you can haunt it.
Watch the sunset through the trees
over my climate Mediterranean balcony

way deep into November.
Even doing it now. Pink light
through spiky little fingers
of pine needles. Yeah, 
yeah I got trees,

they're older than me 
And a cat
so very very very
very fat 
and 

happy?
And I’m not that far behind
and yet
this body always runs
when I ask it to run.

This body always stands up 
when I’ve asked it 
and one day I know
It won’t.
But, baby, you should see me run.

I’m not good, 
but imagine a pony, 
the dumbest 
the dumbest pony you can imagine.
On a beach, happy to be there

just running
running
running
running like it is all it ever wanted to do and all it will ever be happy to do.
Just the happiest and just dumbest fucking pony

heels 
clicking in the air on the up-swing.
Dumbest; happiest 
between miles one and three
this body runs

like it wants me to be happy.
And I know it always won’t.
And I can’t complain 
because sometimes I drive back from the Target
and see this big old hawk hang

big old heavy up there
big old heavy in this white ocean air
Big Old Heavy just lives up there and I
just live out here 
alone 

and just
haunt this big old place and 
I can’t complain
I often say
this place is haunted

I often say
but I can’t complain
Because the square footage and the hawk,
and the Target nearby, and the ocean, the good running.
How often I say 

I just though

can’t complain.

.
.
.

Just a simple little piece of writing.

 
Today I:
made a comic strip people
like using

nothing but my brain at 5am.
Did yoga using nothing
but this old body, these old limbs.

Worked and worked work for
eleven hours on a Monday
even though no

one made me even
though I know 
no one will remember 

today.
Ran a 5k I didn’t even mean to,
but the light was a nice purple,

the dirt mostly sand and 
I didn’t see 
another person for forty-five minutes.

Made a simple
dinner that wasn’t even sad,
only remarkably plain,

and today I wrote
this and even though
it ‘s no good,

I still made it 
today. 
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