To my son, the boy you are, the him in you.

I hope you always reach for your father’s hands. They were molded so that you would one day place your putty palms into his larger ones, that you would never feel shame in squeezing tight. He has trained years for you. Do not be afraid to hold on for as long as you need. YouContinue reading “To my son, the boy you are, the him in you.”

To my daughter, the girl you are, the me in you.

Before you are born I will name you beautiful. You’ll be baptized an Ava or a Willow or whatever name fits best in my mouth when I first feel your gentle kick in the womb, when I sense your soon-to-be laughter bubbling inside my skin. My body is a temple, the world has always toldContinue reading “To my daughter, the girl you are, the me in you.”

I want to write a poem every day

but I can’t promise they’ll be any good. I’m just here for the process of purging and rising and fusing together the magic of what happens in-between midnights, what sorts of magic we make in the cramped corners of our individual worlds. Maybe I’ll write about the potential of an empty park bench in October,Continue reading “I want to write a poem every day”