Newsletter
Whatever happens
What are we doing? Embracing each other as we are? Holding onto each other for dear life? The answer is yes.
Newsletter
Isn't the moon dark too
We now conclude this brief mental break with a word from/for our friends and body.
Newsletter
A beehive here inside my heart
I sat outside late one morning and saw a billion birds, now it's everyone's problem. Plus some advice for the shifting season, and a poem Molly sent me.
Newsletter
No strange bird sings alone
Learning to bring different birds close, use water wisely, and lose my mind a little each day to keep from losing it a lot at once. Plus here's some recently published poems.
Newsletter
My heart a bird's heart
Halfway through another year, I say a small prayer for your peace, try to notice what's changed and changing, and share two poems about (almost) touching.
Newsletter
I know the earth is laughing
There is despair here, audacity too, and hope beyond belief. Also a bunch of recently published poems.
Newsletter
I am writing with both hands
I seen a new bird and I talk to myself. No surprises, just suggestions, plus a poem by Franz Wright.
Newsletter
This we'd call a life
Remember, you're an animal. And one day, maybe, you'll be food.
Newsletter
When the world is flowers
I watched a bee die and did what I could. I listen to poets and give what I can. In this case it's two very short poems about possums.
Newsletter
We salvage ourselves
Recommendations for living. Also twelve questions, one bird, and two poems.
Newsletter
These hands that have always held you
I begin a new decade overcome with love. Everything keeps on happening. One thousand hugs and gorgeous evenings. Also some new work in the world.
Newsletter
Never ate so many stars
A benediction asking Everything, the only god I know, to take care of a friend I never held, and of me, and everyone else. Also a poem that haunts me, gently.