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I feel so intensely connected to the passion and love of the two poets, that I feel I have to write about them constantly. Most recently, I wrote a piece inspired by the Beatles’ “Goodbye (Home Demo)” wherein Dante, after passing away, finds Virgil in Limbo, who had been waiting for him the whole time.
It’s not my best work, neither is it my best piece about them, but this one has a special place in my heart because it came from a feeling where I needed some solace.
I’ve linked it to this post!
Mar 10, 2025
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i can’t listen to music without thinking about her. every piece of shitty poetry that condemns my for you page makes me think of her in our living room. she is holding bills as she sits on our couch, a calculator on the table and a glass in the other hand. i will ask her what she wants for dinner, and she will tell me.
there’s something so guttural about knowing you want to love someone for the rest of your life. that little moments like a dinner order are exactly what will give you the drive to wake up and slave away to a 9 to 5. ive been thinking about what i wanna be a lot lately. i think it’s honestly teaching. philosophy. i like to imagine myself as a philosophy professor discussing love with my students, i would tell them about my little artist at home and our baby girl and how i too thought marriage was simply the removal of autonomy until it befell my door.
i think that’s a normal way to feel, with tubes of “the good ol ball and chain” and “can’t live with her can’t live without her“ down our throats like prospective foie gras.
but my love is gentle. it is patient. it is kind.
Mar 16, 2025
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.
it’s 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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you know,
all i like to write about is love.
writing is easier when it’s about your own personal experiences of grief, of pain
but love is the beautiful dove of the two
released at a funeral, released at a wedding.
,
because the definition is different for everybody.
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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
–
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,
fully and infinitely with all of myself.
if this is not where you are safe, then there is nothing else.
–
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
3d ago
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It is far too tedious for me to keep an actual diary of my thoughts. As a writer, every single entry ends up a thousand-or-so-word ramble detailing my feelings in lines of purple prose, using film references and sarcastic remarks.
As a reader, though, I love to annotate my books. I write exactly what I’m thinking about silly scenes, romantic moments, and dramatic twists. It’s where I can freely express what I’m thinking and feeling, without any care for what it sounds like. The short remarks I print in the margins of novels, between the lines of dialogue, paired with doodles and scrawls, reflect my state of being as I read. When I look back on books I’d read previously, I am immediately transported to that era of my lifetime— what I was going through, how I was processing things, and how much of the world I’d experienced yet.
Feb 23, 2025
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running around as a little kid and hearing lou reed sing on my parents’ speakers that were taller than i was
Mar 10, 2025
other people have seen this view covered in grey fog and baby blue clouds. i was so lucky to see the glory of the lake and the waters below, the green of the trees coming into view, all as the sun’s geometric rays burst from the white streaky clouds.
Mar 10, 2025