In The Mix 2026
Tuesday, June 17th, 12:37am, 2026
no cracks, very good:
i do not know, i feel.
i can not tell you the exactness of my feelings.
because, when trying to explain them, every occurred thought attempts to exert themselves.
when the question is asked or the statement is spoken,
answers rush to the starting line.
they do not wait to be untangled,
their release has emotionally longed, at the stake of need, for truthfulness.
not everything felt is meant to be told.
i do not know, which of my feelings to tell.
for the length of remembrance,
kinds of thoughts have been made permanent.
they wonder about their presence.
can thinking too many of the same thoughts be heard?
they are loud to me, can you hear them?
they complain, argue and shove each other around carelessly.
they extensively drive themselves to the edge of arrival.
they pretend to be comfortable in their leisure.
they sit cross legged picking and twiddling their thumbs, waiting for the right moment to say:
this is my choice, my feeling, my confrontation.
they like intense silence.
if you’re silent for me, i’ll eat fruit jerky and talk through my chewing about more than just what i’m thinking. i hope its okay that i’m taking this moment to say,
i don’t know what you feel but,
i feel it too.
Tuesday, June 9th, 10:55pm, 2026
the blurb on the back:
this evening as i slung myself into my multicolored 2007 toyota crolla, tears streaming down my face. humidity even in the late evening, found me needing a breeze.
i didn’t ask my hand to roll the windows down, intuition did.
the air carried my tears.
just like when a person leaves you a gifted surprise, sincerity filled my body and the music set a mood without the need for change.
i decompressed into the cushioned drivers seat, let my knowing of the way home steer the wheel and thought:
theres a persistence of rumination that follows the moments i’ve been held by over the past two weeks.
they pause to be glimpsed at.
and after, there’s query-
may i remember these happenings?
a theory arises,
forgetting someone that has so profoundly touched my soul will not be possible.
even if the wholeness of each memory dilutes, the emotions and feelings will find their way.
these people i have found myself surrounded with carry an expansive knowledge of human nature. they’re considerate, their hearts beat with intention.
graciously sharing themselves for my switchless curiosity, i cannot forget.
upon arrival, the setting of my mood continued into my pillow as my tired body lay on a pallet of 5 stacked blankets. my grandparents moved me out a few days ago. i’m heading home, and that really sunk my body deep.
oh. the once told “i’m leaving in two weeks” is now well, tomorrow.
Tuesday, February 10th, 1am, 2026
just a thought or two or six:
february wind is warm through my car window, the song and ideas for future loves, makes me think of summer. for as long as i can remember, ive enjoyed the season for what it is no matter the weather. but, the single taste of 75 degrees flatters me. the birds flatter me as i purposely set the stage for them. to set the mood. i’ve been searching for a scene, so much so ive given a purpose to the opportunity. i wait. i sip paint. famished, i eat. zucchini, clay, purpose, possibility, opportunity, a single thought for days, glitter, the mirror, a reflection, work but not for money rather something to do, but money is good too i suppose. if days off left me alone with only my self, i doubt my ability to find comfort in anything- maybe the only thing- wind. it would bring me to think of dirt and seeds that i’ve watched others sow and grow. i’d let in a breath and the only way i’d let it out is for someone else. i’d wish but not for me. i’d let the weather get to me, make me cross or let my mood fall into pros and cons. what is a boundary? i can’t see it on my skin or through the open window. so, i’d just ask myself to be free and to not plea unless i’ve thought of what the open door would do if it’s boundary was to not allow the wind to close it.
there is both a need and a want for growth and to be sown.
Tuesday, February 2nd, around 9pm, 2026
mushy but good gushy:
the flys killed me before i could die.
what was left of my body turned my mind into fiction.
nothing i could hear had a key.
out of tune,
without a truth.
i can’t even find a way to plee.
Friday, January 9th, 2:36pm, 2026
w cottage.
games fill the top shelf dustless,
a piece of everyones personality shows through trinkets, decorations and books.
it all makes the space flirty.
a pink lit paper star hung center to dried flowers and cat posters,
the tv console filled with nothing for the tv rather records, cds, speakers and metal instruments.
a sick ass biker jacket over the chair, what should fill its pockets fall scattered five feet away.
jacket still cool!
a triple layer of sweet scented neutral colored jackets hung over lace up booties and a black “this is my girl bag”.
our natural aromas carry from our rooms into the hall and down the stairs.
mixing between home cooked dinners, baking and incense.
