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art prints. notebooks. short stories. poems. bookmarks. coffee mugs. t-shirts. you could say it's all of the Usual Things, but let it ALSO be this: a reminder that you are here, and so am i, and one day we will do more than just survive.
may we yet flourish. may we soon thrive--
kicking & screaming with joy, this time.
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Someone recently asked opinions on following the spirit and letter of a law, so of course I wrote a poem that probably isn't really an answer.
Although this poem was part of an April exhibition, I didn't get to display the accompanying artwork I'd made for it. The art itself feels quite imperfect, but maybe that's all the more reason to share it.
2025 Collection
Tread the World with Wonder || 11″x14″ || Brush Pen and Permanent Marker on Mixed Media Paper Embodied Resistance III: Memento Eterno || 14″x18″ || Acrylic Paint, Brush Pen, and Permanent Marker on Canvas Panel Hope Rises and Falls || 9″x12″ || Watercolor Pencil, Permanent Marker, and Paint Pen on Watercolor Paper Moral Perfectionism I || 11″x17″ || Brush Pen and Permanent Marker on Bristol…
There's something infuriating about history: the way it repeats, the vice of amnesiatic erasure masquerading as the lure of nostalgia. There are no perfect times, no promises to the lives we're given. So I scream about it sometimes, and then I keep going.
Finally getting around to updating the art page on my site! Some familiar, some new, some...unfinished?
Sometimes I feel like I know what I have, I'm just not sure what to do with it—but there is no perfect way of doing things. It takes listening, uncertainty, risks, mistakes. It takes more power than I have...but maybe I'm not doing this alone.
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I rarely post two days in a row, but I’m back with steps 3-5 for the thing I promise I’m working very hard on. It’s just that working on something like this looks all sorts of ways, yknow?
What better way to close out National Poetry Month than by talking revising poems?! It's like, basically the same as doing the revisions, right???
I wrote this on a Friday, surprised by a swell of grief on an otherwise gorgeous day. She died the following Sunday, and the sky that night? I'd never seen so many stars.
If the world is ending and all I can do is text my friends, tell them they're loved, send pictures of the sky at sunset and the moon at midnight, may that be enough. By God, may it be enough.
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If you ask for my thoughts, who knows what shape they’ll take.
Anyone else make the art to process the things and then write a poem to process the art you made to process the things? Just me? Anyway, January has always been a little weird for me, and I guess this is (part of) why.
What if I don't need anything to show for all this? What if living and learning along the way is enough? And what if the rest comes just at the right time?
The sun came out like two hours after I wrote this and all the snow is basically gone, but the wisdom of a pause remains.
I wrote this 10 days ago. I'm still not okay, but I'm here. Here's to staying angry (for now).
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I have an 18x24 canvas based on the 9x12 watercolor that I wrote this poem about because that's how the writing + art works sometimes (and they all feel unfinished because of course they do).