Four Days on a Deserted Island

Four Days on a Deserted Island

I was a hummingbird living in an intoxicating city. Even the smell of the exhaust fumes of the cars thrilled me. It was all heady – the museums, the history, the concrete and the sizzling dance club.

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A Plane Crash and Living Your Best Life

A Plane Crash and Living Your Best Life

In the chaos, my whole body became calm – like I was in the eye of a hurricane. There was screaming and noise, but I was like a sleeping dog in front of a fireplace, telling the woman across the aisle from me, who had grabbed my hand and cut off the circulation in my fingers…. that everything would be alright.

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Learning to see with less

Learning to see with less

Not having enough becomes a mantra, a creed, an ode – and you hear it everywhere – in church when the shove the basket toward your father, in your home, your friend’s homes, businesses, relatives, the women in line at the bank with small pieces of paper, numbers not adding up to need.

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Sky of You

Sky of You

Miss you in a body with a too thick waist
and flaming red hair out of a box,
and one overlapping tooth
and the laugh that could crack an Easter egg.

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Sharing the Weight of a Too Heavy Box

Sharing the Weight of a Too Heavy Box

The three of us shared a diary that year, a black composition book, and we’d pass it back and forth, hating and loving our parents, falling in love with eighth grade boys and math teachers and each other’s brothers – with Bruce and E. Street Band and John Lennon.

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The Church of the Dolphin

The Church of the Dolphin

So here we were. –  me and a DJ from Brooklyn, in a hot tub over the Pacific Ocean hanging off a cliff – the milky way over us, the night inky black with no moon, laughing and coughing and laughing when she said, “Holy fuck. What the fuck is that?”

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Grief in the Eyes of a Hundred Turkeys

Grief in the Eyes of a Hundred Turkeys

I was in a landslide of my own making, and I lived as if I was dying. Until I went to Italy, and I threw a coin into Trevi fountain, the muscled cement gods staring at me. I made a wish for all of it to stop, right after that wish, it did stop.

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Finding Your Voice in Dark Times

Finding Your Voice in Dark Times

The three of us shared a diary that year, a black composition book, and we’d pass it back and forth, hating and loving our parents, falling in love with eighth grade boys and math teachers and each other’s brothers – with Bruce Springsteen and John Lennon.
Together, the three of us were discovering our voices.

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Belmar

Belmar

Each year the undertow took us farther out to sea, while we tread water, a graveyard beneath our feet, the waves grinding us down like sea glass.

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We are all every age we have ever been

We are all every age we have ever been

Now when I look in the mirror my mother and grandmother and great mother and even my daughter and granddaughter are staring back at me, and I’m so grateful for all of us, it helps me understand time is not linear.

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Angels Have Been Assigned to You

Angels Have Been Assigned to You

And I know the whole night Makena was with my father she didn’t see his racism, his privilege, or the young boy who had lost his mother at five years old. She didn’t have his history.
She just saw the soul of him.

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Resilience

Resilience

This is not a poem about love – it’s how we find the compass to truth north in an old pocket in a dusty closet.

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