top of page

Tumble, Tumble, Tumblr

Updated: Apr 18

Whenever I go back through my old journals, I find things that I wrote that sound like they've come from some distant brain, like the configurations of words couldn't possibly be part of me. The odd thing is, the threads are always the same. Each string still attached to it's original place, stretching for miles and miles, wrapped around organs, tangled and knotted. A map that expands from past to present and beyond. Every string bears my signature, some version of my stamp, whispering softly, "you've been here before". It's a delightful discovery to have space between my brain and it's maze of strings and words - to come back later and see them standing alone - like statues in a garden. Tiny poems born of raw feelings, waiting to be remembered.


8 views0 comments

Recent Posts

See All

You're fine.

And we're all told they're sorry, Just go home to bed To keep on waking up And try again That the melancholy will slowly d i s s o l v e From our heads But that's not what happens . . .

Apocalypse Now or Later?

53 years of food production left. Active Genocide and war. Toxic Waterways. Price Gouging. Unchecked Police Brutality. Removal of basic Human and Civil Rights. The writing is on the goddamn wall. This

Landline.

If I could throw my phone away and get a landline, I would. I'm not cut out for the fast-paced digital rat race. I want to do puzzles and eat snacks and play Scrabble, and take walks and grow things,

Comments


bottom of page