dunno how to process grief 

about anything right now

so I do yoga

and read a lot 

and excavate 

a poem or two

to lend a little order

to my jumbled heart.

When does this end?

I don't wanna process any more losing endeavors.

And yet I’ve taken to swallowing

his leftover supplements

bc I refuse to keep losing over

wasteful shit like this.

40 years of however many expired bottles of 300 dollar algae.

 

One Art

The art of losing isn’t hard to master;
so many things seem filled with the intent
to be lost that their loss is no disaster.

Lose something every day. Accept the fluster
of lost door keys, the hour badly spent.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

Then practice losing farther, losing faster:
places, and names, and where it was you meant
to travel. None of these will bring disaster.

I lost my mother’s watch. And look! my last, or
next-to-last, of three loved houses went.
The art of losing isn’t hard to master.

I lost two cities, lovely ones. And, vaster,
some realms I owned, two rivers, a continent.
I miss them, but it wasn’t a disaster.

—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture
I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident
the art of losing’s not too hard to master
though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster.

Elizabeth Bishop

OPEN YOUR EYES ARI