Letters, autobiographical stories, essays, fiction and other writings.

The Sigh of Blue

During the festival, when all the people were gathered in the temple, I went into the wood and sat on a little bench made of crumbling stone.

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Windy dream

The wind leans into us through the night, as we slide unnoticed through the neighborhood, past other houses, across their yards, to the river Hudson. Only the insomnia babies standing in their cribs waiting for their mamas can see us.

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About writing & not writing

Turn into the wind, into the sky, into the earth, and go be other than you think you are. Let yourself drift away into something brand new; imagine and dream, as a child in a treehouse would.

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Grace & the Traitor

I wanted to tell her how I loved her but it remained too hard. And all the snowflakes pressed their faces against the windows, peeping in at us, envious of my arms, which held such a beauty.

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The Leaf that Fell

He said, Darling, I don't know where we're going. And she answered, Neither do I, but we'll go together. And in this way the Leaf learned about love. How beautiful, it thought, This must be how people let go of their trees and fall.

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Start something with me

Take your place in the duvet sky and I'll trace your constellations. I'll be your Roman astronomer. I'll lift the observatory roof. Let your stars fall down on me.

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Run away with me

So your heart will be healed its small tragedies from before, from all the times before, and you'll grasp the cuff of my jacket, roll a thumb across a button, and listen to them sing.

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Chicago Marathon. Done

The longer I look, my life goes back further and further, until the stars in the sky gyrate above and there's a funny old man with a big funny telescope standing in the desert trying to grab hold the edge of the universe.

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Thunder’s Time Machine and Perspective

Everything reminds him of what he's lost. The past and all the ways we romanticize it, and the future and all the promises we thought were ours—that past and that future packed dense into a single ball with which we toss and torture ourselves. That’s how it once was for you too, remember?

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Assorted Poetry v1

Three stars a triangle your ankle, twelve stars a bowstring your inner thigh, six fluttering suns a parabola your waist, the soft breath of galaxies your breasts, moon shadow the hollow of your neck, piercing planet of August sunset your lips. I’ll be your Roman astronomer, I’ll lift the observatory roof, let your stars fall down on me.

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