Day 141. I just want my lovers to remember me as a silver gash in the thunderstorm, stroking like salmon. Flicking their tails wildly upstream.

Day 140. spreadsheets of the soul—full of questions.

Day 139. Night fire is in her blood. The flag flutters in its cell of ivory walls.

Day 138. The ripple of the percolator reminds me of my hunger. There are more layers to need than I realized.

Day 137. Her hand holds the brush; he is the paint.

Day 136. I’ve nothing I suffer immediately, though; I sign off without a name in my messages to you.

Day 135. Remember me, like this, standing on tiptoes full of citrus and sunlight. Ascension is always worth the risk of failure.

Day 134. The glass will shatter if you let it fall. Pick up the shards and make something magnificent.

Day 133. I mistook my heart for a fist and used it to beat my opponents. I crawled home empty.

Day 132. Poetry is my sun; it makes the wetlands sparkle.

Day 131. I live for the potential the impossible flash of stars striking—a feeling of fading love.

Day 130. wednesday is the tide going out. i paint my nails blue and write letters in the sand with my toes to recollect the sensation of joy.

Day 129. a meadow with wildflowers slurring sonnets. my body is furry as a peach.

Day 128. wave goodbye under the crackling stars: we should have left it there.

Day 127. a daisy-print slip with pink corneas holding the petals in place. lonliness is the landing point

Day 126. the cracks speak magenta, harmony is impossible when trust is forced.

Day 125. our epilogue is your repacking: Anger: Buddhist Wisdom for Cooling the Flames.

Day 124. there’s a way to perceive the light without getting burned.

Day 123. our dialogue of desert flowers.

Day 122. sunrise bleeds its heart onto the girl's hands, and she marvels at the magnificence.