Blessed are the curious…

I have an almost irrational and obsessive belief in curiosity, that is to say, I believe in being irrationally curious and irrationally obsessed with what makes me curious. I don’t believe in avoiding rabbit holes. Instead, I believe that consistently falling down them is an experience and an activity that …

16 drops of rain…

To the 16 drops of rain laying prostrate on my shoulderMingling with the sweat like a mixture of cassia and myrrhAnointing my resistance with the oil that pulls from the pavement when the heaven’s crack and cryYour brethren come down like confetti singing in a chorus,a psalm sung from the …

A wounded rising…

Does the phoenix ever tire of rising from her own ashes? Maybe each time she is burned downed, bits of her die that don’t come back and the parts that do, are reborn scorched and scarred What if now she simply dreams of sitting Shiva for herself?

Hope is not a feeling…

When I write I do so with a blissful, and sometimes not so blissful, ignorance; a kind of sacred unknowing. I grasp at the ineffable aliveness that undulates underneath my experience of some aspect of the world and I try to give it words. It’s not an endeavor aimed at …

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