Whoah

Woman with raven, 1904, Pablo Picasso

wake up to a prayer of atlas moths. call it love or a blueberry cheesecake. wear socks with a pair of mountain goats winking against each ankle. make ginger tea while you are at it, also make peace with the past. step outside, keep walking till you become turquoise. sit by a fire as coral as the seabed. surmount in a theatre of glowworms. on waking, thank your bed. listen to the morning when the sun is a mimicry of yellow jasper and the roads are ready for the patience the last month taught you. speak fluent snow with a husky. pay attention to the trees with their wry, undraped branches exalted like ghostly chandeliers. bring home a bluebell. remember that Tolstoy once went to a party, met his soulmate and bought a horse. all three, separately. leave your age on the clothesline. then, eat a bowl of whatever reminds you of the happiest day from your childhood. write down its taste on a piece of silver paper. fold it four times in front of a mirror. say : winter beeches, snowshoe hare, plum blossoms. imagine your body as a shamisen. keep a notebook by the bedside. write a line in blue ink before sleep and another in green ink after waking up. say esperanza. know that things are working for you even when the strings are invisible. say inshallah. say amen. bring all your animals back home. trust the erasures. trust the forgetting. believe in the depth rather than the width of hours. begin from the middle. 

I want them to start talking about the poor.

The fact is that half of Americans make less than $30,000 a year.

Half of us do not make a living wage.

I don’t want to hear about what you’re going to do for the middle class.