This is (not) a ghost story

How are you doing? I mean, really, how are you? I’m noticing a lot of folks coming fully into the grief loss and physical/mental/spiritual changes that have happened to us the past two years. Maybe it’s the shock of watching what we feared come to pass. Maybe we’re waking up well before we’re quite ready. Maybe it’s just time doing what time does and washing over us with exfoliating waves. I hope you are finding something steady to touch and bring you back into your body.

Anyway, today’s draft comes from an ongoing fistfight with inertia.

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThis is a ghost story.Come away from the window.It looks like life, doesn't it? The way the light stretches fingers over the Kentucky coffeetree,late enough in summer for full greenleaves,window glass thin enough to hear birds, squirrels, errant dragonflies.Surely the window is the portal to life. There is something in the air herethat wants you to slide into the wallslive somewhere in the broken plaster of this placewith the other torpid spirits of this un-haunted house.