Archive for August, 2016

Go big or go home.

August 29, 2016 2 comments



I’ve always been a big fan of the small gesture: bringing someone a cup of coffee, the Thinking of You text, a silly photo (probably of an animal, because DUH), a handwritten letter, a smile, an unexpected compliment.


Small things matter. They don’t cost a lot of money. They’re just nice. They can be just the thing to make a bad day better, to fix a sour mood, to brighten a life.


But this weekend made me think about big gestures. My amazing friend, Liz, drove 9-ish hours to come hang out. One way, guys. That’s a roughly 13 billion-hour trip, and it floored me in the very best way (I had SUCH a wonderful time, because DUH).


It made me think about the things we do for the people in our lives who really matter. It made me think about how, when we care about someone, obstacles don’t really matter. Not time. Not geography. Not any kind of distance.


And I’m lucky. I have a friend who reminded me that grand gestures are possible. And they’re as amazing and they are important. Sometimes in life, we often find ourselves not really believing that there’s magic in the world.


But there is magic. And I think that we need more big gestures and more fireworks. Yes, small miracles are still miracles. But they’re not changing water to wine. It’s so easy to take the small miracles as evidence, an indication that only small things are possible. Again: it’s not.


You can move a mountain if you try. If you really want to. If your heart is in it. And think about it: when’s the last time you made a big gesture? Went balls out and heart in, said screw it and did something definitive and brilliant? When is the last time you showed up in a really big way? Without being asked or prompted to? Just…because.


I’m not saying this has to be a romantic gesture. Mine wasn’t. (But darlings, friendships are nothing to sneeze at. Mine save my life, on the regular. And I’m lucky as hell in my people.) It can be a romantic gesture if that’s what your wild heart wants.


But I think, beginning in September, let’s all do something big. Let’s all do something honest and crazy. Let’s go big or go home. Let’s put up or shut up. Let’s be over-the-top and insanely present. No more sidelines and skirting around the edges. Just straight out in the middle of it all, center stage and full sunlight.


You in?

Categories: Uncategorized

Because You Are a Ghost, So Am I

August 24, 2016 2 comments


Ghosts sometimes wear the bones
of the living, drive a truck,
widen their eyes
as if you are the surprising
creature, trespassing through life
with your warm skin, hands
full of stardust, lips swollen
with kisses, heart defiant
with the memory of them,
considering the universe
of hipbone and backseat,
a new, old world.

No man walks through a wall
unscathed, so it’s a good thing
hearts are not walls,
and the door’s unlocked,
and the lights are turned off,
and you are not scared
of the dark. Some are born
for fight and shadow,
a flash of red, a grazing of teeth,
a conjuration against
all common sense.

There are no strangers here,
only magic, the belief
in the unbelievable,
and despite
the prayers meant to guard against it,
you have fallen
to your knees, frantic
in this cathedral
of want, with its high ceilings
and impossible scaffolding,
this is your holy place,
four chambers
that echo a name
you won’t say aloud.

Sometimes, the dead man walks.
Sometimes, the dead man speaks.
Sometimes, the ghost
living in your heart
also lives somewhere else,
and yet, the door stays open,
and yet, the moon arrives
with hope in its teeth, a clever gleaming,
silent as the hunger
of bones, a reminder
of how patient the darkness
must sometimes be
with the horizon.

All clocks are set
to measure
one thing or another—
yours ticks
blue, a constant summoning
of secrets.

Categories: poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized

your heart like wolves

August 10, 2016 1 comment

Once, I promised that it would
be okay, when I knew it wouldn’t.
That was my worst gift: hope
in a handgrenade, knowing
one of us would explode, hoping
it would be me, watching
helpless as it was you—
on repeat, I kept trying
to save you, but I only ended
up drowning myself.

You want too much quiet,
but the truth is,
I have no plans to be anything
but noisy
for the rest of my life,
which means you have to decide
between a parade
made of joy and hands
the way water
is always hungry
to go where it wants,
a smile
with much teeth,
and no mercy.

This good
and bad that fights
in your heart
like wolves—
I have seen them both
for the same moon,
lost, forgetting
that found
doesn’t always mean safe,
and sometimes, you must
feed the beast
that makes the most honest mess.

those kisses
that changed the stars
in your soul, rearranging
new constellations,
as if love
were an unnamed muscle
in the tongue—
messy, in the best way.

I can’t promise
that things won’t break,
that corners will stay tucked,
that I will ever be easy—
I am not your metaphor
for a happy life,
but these bones of mine
are longing for yours,
impatient as the sea
reaching for the shoreline:
and there’s nothing
more beautiful
that what comes back.

Categories: poem, poems, Poetry, Uncategorized