I love rage. Let me start over. I believe in rage as a conduit, a marker, a beginner and a beacon for our bodies, nervous systems, very sweet mammalian selves with these big juicy brains and souls expressing and experiencing that something is just not right here. When someone sits across from me with tears…
I am but a prayer. Either that or I am me and I am a prayer. As are you. With your scrambled egg brain, your backward word reading, Your daydreaming, wispy self. My prayers are with you always, when I boil the noodles, When I fold the clothes, when I draft the email, When I…
What’s it like to parent a kiddo with neurodiversity? Your heart gets to be like the strongest muscle you have. For it breaks and grows and cracks and gains and stutters and expands all in a day. My heart is the strongest organ of mine. It holds my wisdom, it is my north star. It…
You gave me a crate full of plants, it’s funny when you asked if I wanted vegetables, I thought they were already full grown, matured, really to consume. When you handed me a crate full of sprouting, leafy pots. I had to hide my disappointment. Maybe I will plant these suckers, dig in the ground,…
What is it like to have your heart on fire for your children? Especially for their differences, it has taken quite a bit to unlearn The word deficiencies. Spoiler alert, it came from me contending with my own. What erupted was magma, alive, alert, a deep, deep desire to destroy. It pops up in big…
I know you are thinking of me, I hope with fondness. I can feel it seeping into my heart like some sort of laser beam. Does that mean I still love you? Can you still love while it fades? It’s hard to be on this side too, it feels like I should know better or…
I like how we need different things after love making. While I steep like a tea bag in pleasure, you are a kettle, Once the steam has blown, you lay there, whistling. I wanna bustle, hustle, clean and tidy. Not for anyone, after being touched and entered and feasted on, I give some tender time…
Your skin smells of travels and traversity, I’m not sure if my eyesight (mindshight) is skewed or if you truly do fit some mold of venture and abandon. I know we meet there. Under a canopy of whim, I let you swirl me across a wooden dance floor and I placed you in the reality…
My lover left me a voice message culminating in sweet coming, Ice tea, sweating on a glass, sun on my ribcage and his face between my legs he resides there now in the place below the breastbone hungry and alone, desire is a swollen bursting balloon that has not yet lost its elasticity. Checking out…
They pulled out my guts, one by one. A slippery mass of disappointment and steaming goo. When we said forever, enveloped in sinew and DNA it did not mean on this earth. The gory part of grief is not the missing, it is not the desperation, it is not the big, momentous happenings and circumstances…