this is how i see.

I’m coming to understand that some of these things that I thought could be massaged out of me like knotted muscles are not so easily untangled. They’re not errant feelings that require fixing, they are the essence of me. This is the way that I am. I see things in this complicated, thorough, melancholic, profound lens that can be so guttural, so jagged, I only … Continue reading this is how i see.


Dear mother, I know I’m not taking care of myself. I know wine is no dinner and the morning is no bedtime. I know I grant an allotment to my fear and my trivial quandaries. Ultimately, I know I’m the one that waters them. I know I allow their poison to seep into my bloodstream. I know that my time is far too precious to … Continue reading 3/18

in yeilding

I understand why people need to believe in Heaven. That the concept of just being gone is one we’re capable of consuming, but instead we loiter at its edge because we’re all too aware of what stepping over means. We do this. We feel the pull of a heavy thing with deep, crushing gravity and we don’t advance because it’s untested and inadvisable to see … Continue reading in yeilding

Bing Bong

It costs money to die. They make sure you settle the bill before they’ll come near you with needles. But I’m only being unkind because the whole business of living is such a remarkable sham. That’s what it is, a business. Our life is a series of transactions. And we give it meaning because we contain the extraordinary gift to do so. But every move … Continue reading Bing Bong

keep on movin’

I still remember the night we got home. Ruidoso remains my favorite place to think of. It feels like another planet now, not only because we traveled across a burnt desert to get there, but because of what came out of it. Two totally different people, leaving the crackling mountain heat for the humid May air, transformed. I knew I loved you before I left … Continue reading keep on movin’

twenty seven

27, you worked so hard. What more can I say besides thank you? I had the urging to read Crossroads today. It hadn’t hit me how fitting that was on this day, the last day I’ll be 27, until I was stewing in elderberry, lighting the candle I said I’d never burn. Crossroads was the illustrious, miserable, luminescent, hopeless cry for help and ballad of … Continue reading twenty seven

The Harbinger

A woman died today. A 60-story building stood unmoved in her wake. I imagine the nascent rays of the day finding her where she lay. I imagine the turmoil and resoluteness with which she left the world. And I wilt.  I torture myself with false futures when silence leases space for my mind to wander. There’s no part of my tandem heart that accepts the … Continue reading The Harbinger