“When a man is willing and eager, 
the gods join in.” 
– Aeschylus

Sitting on my balcony feeling the earth move, watching the trees speak to one another and listening to Jackson Browne…these are the bits of poetry I cling to. Words slip slide down my shoulders across my skin and bones and I can feel small bits of rain gently caress my feet. I can genuinely feel a light inside of me. Or a beast. Or a burning ember. Or maybe it’s just wind in my chest. The world has sunk into my pores and I am with it, of it, connected to it. 

I want to be all places at once. 

I want to suck the marrow out of life. 

I have passion for the green, growing fleshy earth.

Ick in my throat and mess in my stomach and suburban pollution infecting my skin. I am crawling with a disease and I don’t even know its name. How can I find my name in the stars when I can’t even see to the sky. That’s a heavy weight in my elbows and a thick soup in my veins. 

And then there’s the tiny yes, and that drives you forward…that we can be such better humans. And then hope comes in. Not upwards and outwards…but penetrating…like dappled sun through the atmosphere we will absorb and spread.

Thank god it isn’t all bliss. It starts to get so wearing being unbearably happy. 

And in the darkness…of all the things wrong…what is MOST strong is the love…always. 

And this might be the most honest I’ve felt and have been living all year…and it feels fucking human. And that is indescribably beautiful. Like everything was just painting around the edges of reality. Reality is hard but that hardness is so REAL. And reality is infinite. 

So let it be fall. Let all the beautiful discoveries of the trees in the summer just fall to the ground and release.

Let go.


“I’ll screw up. I’ll push you away if we’re getting too close. 
I won’t trust you until you’ve proven yourself. 
I get hurt easily and take a lot of things personally. 
But I’ll love you with everything I have, 
and if that isn’t enough, then I’m not enough.”