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a few years back, i met a wandering poet in new orleans. after talking for a bit, he wrote this for me. to this day, it is still one of my most treasured possessions.
itās strange how connected we all are. the human experience is not so singular or unique. and that is kind of comforting.
Jan 20, 2025
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there are things i think are weirdĀ
but itās not that they are actuallyĀ
weirdĀ
itās that they are unusualĀ
or they bring me a new perspective ā
one that iām not so used to
ā like seeing an orange tractor on the side of the roadĀ
surrounded by three men in orangeĀ
construction suitsĀ
in the middle of the french countrysideĀ
or the fact thatĀ
at the beach yesterday, the foggy glimpse of
land,
the island we could see in the distance
was the british island of jersey.
it made me think about how the world
is really so smallĀ
and that we, humans, are the onesĀ
that make it seem so big andĀ
vast.Ā
we are the ones that over complicate
over think
over populateĀ
over build
over useĀ
over dignify ourselvesĀ
when we are just merely
visitors in this never ending universe.
and somehow, in someĀ
situations that idea isĀ
safety andĀ
comfort. itās refreshingĀ
to know that as messy and as complicatedĀ
our lives are, none of itĀ
actually matters. because if nothing matters, we can get away with a lot.
we can be mean andĀ
crazy and stupidĀ
and in loveĀ
and happy and hungry for more
and sadĀ
and lively and alone.Ā
but then i remember that āwe are not a drop in the ocean we are the ocean in a dropā
and we donāt have to pretend that ourĀ
emotions are meaninglessĀ
and that our lives arenāt meant to be livedĀ
and we arenāt meant to be thought about andĀ
cared for and loved.Ā
the things we feel are real and they hurt.
they are painful.Ā
they are beautiful.Ā
they stay and they pass.Ā
just like the fog that covers up jersey ā
just like the tractor on the side of the road ā
just like us.
Jan 4, 2025
on a walk with my partner we came across cement writing of our initials. we didnāt do this, but seeing it felt like it was there just for us.
to the other b & e who wrote this, the love you put into the universe stretched across time and met us on this beautiful, february walk, brightening our day and reminding us of the love that exists in the world.
Feb 6, 2025
ā
you know,
all i like to write about is love.Ā
writing is easier when itās about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the twoĀ
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
ā
the trees rustle again tonight, and the wind gently taps on the windowpane, begging again to be let in
and my thoughts race farther and faster in the night than a pure-bred, hot-blooded racehorse, bucking wild for the first time
my mind buzzes, stricken like a gong, reverberating in the quietness of tonight
as i drag myself closer to you,
you reach out for me, an unspoken, gentle and devout prayer, asking for me in the unspeakable words conveyed in a whisper through actions
ā
i promised you a fantastical world of your own, where you are safe, through my own creation.
i have created for you in the heart of my own somewhere for me to love you,Ā
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
āĀ
word by word and sentence by sentence
i create dreams i would never tell anybody
not even under the skies of a cloudless night.
when i sleep, i tuck my hopes and sadness under my pillow
and hope a fairy will kidnap it and place in that spot
something i should need more.
but night after night, my dreams just macerate in the container of my heart.
soon, i will drink them like an elixir of truth
and what i am afraid of will come
2d ago
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