it seems like an important moment, the first blood of the daughter, on a night when the moon decides she does not like me any more. i think i'll live through this. storms are running under the streets, kicking up dust and sage and creosote dreams for a dog who wants to know things a little harder, and understand things a little deeper. things fall away, things break, and our bones get revealed as stronger than they were last year. this will not last. soon enough, the shifting houses and changing bloodstreams will give way to another false certainty, and another period of mistaken identities. we are well supplied to fool ourselves in the weeks to come, and we are foolish enough to believe that the things we know for certain might be up for discussion, but it's already decided, all of it, and sometimes it's easier than others to walk in our own skins. we're all made of dust and the things of the ocean, and we're all carrying small flakes of an original fire, and the things we worry over in the morning grow so large by night that it's a wonder we can sleep, but maybe we are not supposed to be sleeping, in a moment as important as this one.