Millions of worlds of words (a writer’s thank you letter)
‘You’ve got millions of worlds of words inside you’ she said. ‘But what am I to do if I can’t ever get them out?’ It’s true. I am haunted by that question. The words live in me always. Tumble all over each other inside and out. There are voice memos from freeway...
Fever {what a lovely way to burn}
It was one night. Late. Alone in the center of tangled white sheets. Lost in the throes of fever and cough. Of chills and heat and sweat. Of the way the room grew distant and sounds became liquid and I floated in the middle of all that was and had been. And that...
get the hell out of your own way {and write}
The muse has got an edge tonight. She doesn’t have a lot of extra time and she’s not in the mood for the usual bullshit. You feel her come in on a breath through the open window and settle deep in this space. Like she owns it. It’s strange how she can be inside and...
10 things you should know {if you intend to love a poet}
We will always have a mistress. Poetry is our religion and the muse is our deity. She owns us. We will submit ourselves to her; beg for her to appear, turn ourselves inside out and go down on our knees to please her. At some point, you will come second to our burning...