My people
Six weeks left in Chicago. Three times I got on the bus. The bus is a metaphor, except when it isn't. Plus a perfect poem by Charif Shanahan.
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The huge beating genius machine
I've been doing a lot somatic therapy and EMDR for nine months, when do I get to ascend? Maybe that's not the point. Plus a bunch of recent publications, an upcoming album, and an all-timer from Ada Limón.
All this love
Good news. Turns out we have an infinite capacity for love.
A bird and a stone
Writing from a floor in Chicago again. There have been many beautiful days, though I live too much in my mind.
A lightship full of birdsong
A whole life keeps happening, even when I struggle to sit down and write about it. But it's here, it's mine. I'm trying to make it a good one. Also a poem by Gaby Calvocoressi. It's perfect.