My ex-girlfriends and ex-loves... for the sexiness, for traveling with me, disillusioning me, sharing their families, for letting me in, for their music mixes and weird books, for teaching me to make tamales, dancing at my sister's wedding, for dancing, for trying to love, for walking across mountains together, and crawling through cenotes, and being homeless with me, carving pumpkins, watching anti-war films, being skin-to-skin, thinking about art, letting me freak out and mess up, taking me to strange canal-ridden parks, watching fireworks and shivering in the cold, for having umbrellas in their rafters, cuddling years after, for respecting, being the first, diving in phosphorescence, pushing me and being drunk with me, and opening your eyes in the sunrise, and having buttresses to climb, for being vulnerable and yet gentle with my vulnerabilities, for their stories and sadnesses, for their baggage, for sharing their baggage, for being like lone laughing suns, or wolves howling at a long yellow moon, or actually, some other inexpressible metaphor...

My family... for having seen me at my worst, and climbing trees with me, and gardening, for taking me on river-rafting trips, and letting me crash, and making me dinner, taking care of me, letting me stay because I can't figure out where to go, for watching after my dog, and being weird with me, enjoying sushi with me, letting me do what little I can to repay, telling me incredible stories, stories sometimes of our shared past, for reading what I write, and supporting queer causes, for kicking goals and sitting in boats with me, for teaching, for teaching me so much, for always always always being there for me, even in my most miserable days, for always being there for everyone, for having kindness and wanderlust and dreams, for having their own history and being amazing, for achieving and inspiring, for tagging basking sharks, for letting me love them, and having cool friends, for loving animals, for being so easy to be around...

My friends... you curs, you dirty dogs, you lovely clouds and floating newts coming up for breath. For lasting, above else. And aside from that, for fleeting most splendidly. For being confusing, and tough, and sometimes brutal to hang on to, like the edge of a cliff... when the cliff doesn't crumble. For smoking on balconies, inviting me, having beautiful children for me to love, for loving and raising their beautiful children, for picting, for wine, for peeing in strange places, having odd conversations, bringing me the books they love, sharing the books they love, for forgiving me, letting me forgive them too, for burping on subways, writing coaster poems, swimming naked, camping rough, swimming clothed, walking dogs, watching risque films and howling from the bleachers, becoming family, staying in touch, reaching out after not having stayed in touch, being in touch even when we're not in touch, striving to live, inspiring me even if I'm jealous, knowing I'm so proud, bringing me soup and telling me fishing jokes when I am sick, loving and accepting love... so I know what that means...

The world... for being, for still being, for offering. I really like all the orange leaves, plus the light through the valley on the way to work. The opportunity to still be alive when so many face war, death, other darknesses. For feeling fear, so I can overcome it. For being lonely, so I can feel solitude. For being sad and disillusioned, so I can rebuild truth and discover moments of joy. For the ocean, its tides, animals (in general), frogs leaping across the road, forcing me to stop or swerve. The winds, oh yes the snow, very much the snow, and light of course, rain too. The sound it makes. The possibility of not polluting, not exporting jobs, not destroying environment, exploring alternatives. The fact that dreary dismal rain makes sound. The advent of underwater, the way water breaks upon the face as you rise up. Seaweed, wild grasses, thorns and burrs and blackberries, hawks that swoop down and herons that pass by. Gardens that grow and provide challenges, growth, harvest, smells. Oh, the smells... most recently: hubbard squash freshly cut, apple pie, post-vacuum, sauerkrauet, Herald's snout. Anyhow, this could go on awhile, though sometimes it is so.fucking.hard.

Though, I guess, it really shouldn't be. At all.

Here are some pictures from a very nice hike last weekend:


















Oh, and also because in two weeks I will be writing again.