How to love

The first thing to do is

Let go

Of trying

To love

If we don’t feel love

That is okay

It may happen

It might not

But trying to manufacture it

To machinate it out of lead

Fails us before we’ve started

Because we must start

By loving

Ourself

Right here

As we are

Right now

We are perfect

No change necessary

Look at us

How nice we are!

As is

Pre-packed

Batteries included

That is understanding the self

That is love

Oops

Look what happened

By trying not to force anything

Something had space to grow

Which was

Love

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Made it, but to where

Thirteen minutes left in november: Lying splayed on the ground of Denver international in a fur coat, belly full of hot cheetos and new-mexican pizole, beaten timberlands stained dark with beeswax, battered heart beating reliably and opening more with each passing moment, intentional imaginings of multidimensional narratives flitting vibrantly, cautious optimism for december bobbing gently on a turbulent sea, front teeth grinding softly, thumbs aching from tapping truisms on a tiny keyboard, a tired world sleeping outside frosty windows, every fiber of being wanting to rest to recharge to recoup to reinvent to reintegrate to restart to rebecome to be.