THE NEWS BROKE CENTURIES AGO

THESE ARE UNPRECEDENTED TIMES! shrieks every other Facebook post I stumble upon during my daily afternoon session of Trying to Escape The Void That Is My Mind: A Memoir I Haven’t Written Yet. Most of those who wield the phrase are characters from my hometown, typically of the insufferable variety. You know the type: frontContinue reading “THE NEWS BROKE CENTURIES AGO”

SO MUCH OF ABSOLUTELY NOTHING

It’s me  and this tragic blank page,  and our next-door neighbor wielding some sort of deafening machinery to tidy up the rose bushes that appear to have devoured even their front door, and a half-full mug of unsweetened Japanese green tea that has since given up its heat for the sake of my disappointing writing,Continue reading “SO MUCH OF ABSOLUTELY NOTHING”

HEAD AND HEART, BOTH IN PIECES

I. Stuck in the sludge of the now, I possess no energy for anything other than burrowing in bed from seven o’clock to the next seven o’clock. My depression is an all-day affair, a calendar filled to capacity, gridlock.  I let the knots in my hair feel at home. It’s hard enough remembering I stillContinue reading “HEAD AND HEART, BOTH IN PIECES”

For You I Would Jump First

I cannot love carefully.  Unlike you, I do not prepare for it. You are knee pads and escape plan and desperate Sign of the Cross. You triple-check and strategize and never leap without certainty of safety. I am not like you. I am freefall and blind faith and trusting the parachute without checking to seeContinue reading “For You I Would Jump First”

All Artists Have to Suffer for Their Art

Part One I blame my bad poetry on good medication. You win some, you lose some, I guess. When it’s three o’clock in the morning and I’m clawing at my skin trying to flee the cage of my body, I bleed out Pulitzer Prize-winning work. It’s like I rely on psychosis for the right words.Continue reading “All Artists Have to Suffer for Their Art”

Dearest Season We’ve All Been Waiting For:

We wish for grass-stained kneecaps and sudden summer downpours puddling around muddy bare feet and strollers carrying babies that babble and wave their dimpled hands as if they’ve met us in another life. We wish for yard sales run by someone’s grandparents packed with useless collectibles from a war we weren’t alive for and sprawlingContinue reading “Dearest Season We’ve All Been Waiting For:”