This is just me giving myself Grace on the corner of Saint Laurent and Saint Viateur at 3 PM on a Tuesday.

Forgiving yourself.

Well.
He's really good at that.

"This is just me
Giving myself Grace
On the corner of Saint Laurent and Saint Viateur
at 3 PM
on a Tuesday."

Have you ever tried meditating?
No. But I should.

I move too far into severity.
Then way too far back
to somewhere too soft.

Like a killer whale's cervix
In precipitous labour.

That actually sounds pretty badass.
Though somehow very safe
And soft.

Do killer whales have cervixes?
Do zebras?

I want something less severe
That's not the Killer Whale Cervix.

The Zebra Notebook

The average father
spends nine minutes of quality time
with his children,
or fewer.

My father used to carry me around
in what seemed like a backpack,
or in his arms.

He bought me Orange Trident Gum
And we'd go to the library
And afterwards the pool.

We swam almost every day.
I'd hang onto his back
And we'd dive underwater.

I wasn't afraid of the deep end,
Or jumping off the diving board

But when I didn't hold onto my father
I wore water wings
Bright orange.

Then one day,
my father helped me take the water wings off.
Obviously
I sputtered
as I flailed my arms
and feet that could not touch the bottom.

"Look," said my father.
"You can swim."
I was fine.

The End.



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Not Separate From All That Is
What the fuck should I do with my life? Part One.
Still Me