Offer your words. Offer your truth. Offer your beauty. Offer your raw ache and your tender heart and your wild howl. Offer you. Just as you are. I promise someone is listening. I promise it makes a difference. I promise, little by little the path will appear. Even if...
You can do the scary thing. The thing you’ve wanted to do for so long. The thing you’ve avoided with all your might. You may find yourself shaking with adrenaline and power and the ache that lies right beneath the surface. You can do it. It might not...
Calling yourself a writer is not easy. It takes audacity to even let the words leave your mouth. Harder still to believe and stand tall along side them.I am a writer. I am an artistI create. I bleed. I breathe. I write.There, I said it.And fuck, if I don’t still...
Hello I see you.What do you need me to know today?What truths are asking to be heard?What stories do you long to tell?What secrets are you holding inside?I promise I will take the time to see you fully.I will hold your words as sacred truth.Tell me everything. I am...
Did you knowthat I once fell into a lovethat rocked the whole damn world?Or maybe, as I said before,it would be more accurate to saythat the whole damn world fell into mebecause I loved.And if you believe in the truth of that,and I swear that it is so,then let me tell...
You don’t have to burn anymore.There is no gold medal for breaking.The full moon hears you even if you never make a sound.You can evolve your own myth.You can dismantle your metaphor.You can write a new truth,You can choose your own lexicon.You can grow yourself...
Trust in your stories. Learn to hear their wisdom. Feel the energy of the words. Know when it is time to lay the book down and pick up another. Choose one with fresh pages and not a single word written. One with space to grow a new story. A new understanding. Write...
I don’t care what I am supposed to say.You can listen if you want. You can join me if you will. Because these words and this life are my own. Even when I contradict myself. Even when I make every sense and no sense at all. Even when it changes from minute to...
You are a work of art in continuous progress.Quit judging yourself for not being finished yet (hint: it doesn’t work that way, love).Not with art. Not with healing. Not in relationships. Not in work or passion or love. Not anywhere in the complex and...
I’m no expert in anything other than a belief in the deep and abiding wisdom we hold in our beings. And that when we join that knowing with intention, we create magic. But on that foundation, I’ll write a thousand tales of fantastical make-believe and...
If the space is right. I can speak or write or dream or dance my way into truths I don’t yet fully understand. I can live inside of the questions and let them be sacred and fertile. I can allow the wanting of what is wanted, in that sliver of space and to name...
If you want to write, the most important thing I have to tell you is this: follow your urgency to the end of the earth. It is one thing that you cannot fake. Much of what I would tell you, if we were sitting down face to face, is all about the guts and fire and truth...
There are entire lives tucked between the lines you will read on here today. Ordinary and extraordinary and rare and mundane. Joy and grief and the all and everything of the in between. Entire worlds pulsing with life, recorded by someone who is called to make meaning...
Read poetry until your body tingles. Go to an art gallery and stare at a painting until you can feel the artist’s brush strokes on your body. Gather your girlfriends and laugh until you cry. Then cry until you laugh again. March in a protest and be swept away by...
Write wild. Write free. Write the truth of you, no matter what they say. Write for the world. Write for yourself. Write into the void. Just write. Your story has the power to save us.
This is for the ones who speak incantation and trust the gut wisdom and the red-hot blood that pounds in their veins. This is for those who are called relentless. Who are labeled too much. Who are called the names they have called women like us since the beginning of...
No red pens. Who gives a fuck about the oxford comma. There are no rules. What do we care about? Sovereignty. Truth. Grace. The legacy of your own sacred wisdom. The inherent value of your story, as it is. The innate importance of the messy, raw and real creative...
Art asks us to return, again and again to what is real. To honor the truth that lives more primally, below the pretty surface of things. Art demands that we dive full on into the multitudes, to embrace the contradiction. To not create only what we want to create, but...
Things one cannot have too many/too much of: Books waiting to be read, vintage cut-up band tees, hidden chocolate bars, crushes that bring you all the way alive, badass boots made for walking, trips to the ocean, daydreams of magic, playlists for each singular mood,...
She’s gone mad for beauty, found rapture in shadows, calls poetry her religion. She seduces uncertainty, names herself goddess, builds altars to the divinity of heat, sweat and sex and claims righteous ownership of the body she has been given.
Drive us underground We will always surface Singing words you can never own Because you don’t have the range to hear them. Go ahead, take away our words, We will birth a whole new language You’ve been sending your armies for us since the beginning of time But we were...
i. In the new version of my new story, the actor cast in the role of my heart will no longer be asked to play arsonist to crumbled ruins in order to collect on the insurance policy of all she risked in the name of love.ii. She will also no longer feel the need to...
Create a new narrative. Interrupt the pattern. Take back the pen. Reclaim ownership of the story. You—and only you—get to decide how the next chapter is written. Write it all down. The mistakes and the blessings and the places you cracked in two. Write the prayers and...
I’ll take a hard truth over a gentle lie, every single time. I write to make peace with reality and to make peace with the way no peace can be made. I’m still learning that wanting a thing to be true does not make it so. Sometimes the wildest choice I make is to stay...
In my new story, the actor cast in the role of my heart will no longer be asked to play arsonist to crumbled ruins in order to collect on the insurance policy of all she risked in the name of love.
I spent a lot of time in the past year trying to work out the trick of writing a true story about love. I think I may have been coming at the whole thing a little sideways. You see, it’s awfully hard to live a true love story when you’re focusing your attention on the...
Some books, some authors, open up doors of possibility for me as a writer. They break down what I know of form and composition and the rules of telling true stories and reassemble them into something novel and unfamiliar before handing them back to me to say “here,...
No matter what controversy erupts, you’ll find that artists just keep doing what artists have been doing since the beginning of time. Pushing the edges. Exploding the margins. Making something so compelling you can’t look away even when it disturbs you,...
Dear moon, Blood moon. Scorpion moon. Moon with a potent sting. Moon of riotous bloom. Moon of the letting go. Of the going, going, going, gone. Moon of the bittersweet. Of melancholia. Of inevitability. Moon of open palms and whatever comes after the grasping is...
The more I write openly into the space of sexual sovereignty, the more I hear from humans desperate for a safe space to share. Those who have nowhere to be fully honest and real about the whys and hows and whats and whos of their body and its desire. What turns us on?...
Magic isn’t about make-believe, after all. It’s just about suspending your own disbelief sufficiently to see the wonder that exists inside each and every moment of reality.
This story is always yours for the telling. This has always been yours. You can expand to fill it all or take up the smallest corner. You can write in invisible ink. You can tell your story in red wine stains and spilled ink and bite marks. You can only write in...
Sometimes there is so much that needs to be said that we must get really quiet in the hopes that someone out there is listening hard enough to the silence to hear every last word.
Truth? Sometimes I question every last thing I’m doing. Truth? Right now, those questions swirl every damn day. Is this also true for you? Still, we keep moving forward, you and I. We try new things. We doggedly keep on doing the old things because though they may not...
If you’re going to love a poet you should know this. Our words are our truths. Our blood hums with verse. We break easily. Our words save us. Our stanzas keep us alive. If we loved you at all, we loved you truly. And you will never leave us but live under our skin and...
Never get too attached to the first draft of anything – this includes writing, art, homes, love. You will revise and revise and revise. We are always in the midst of our own becoming.
Poetry has a long, long memory. After our love is long gone, we will still be reading your poems. You will not be the only one whose heart this breaks. Know that we will stand, reading the words written about our love – and we will ache for you. The body will remember...
Write them all down. The mistakes and the blessings and the places you cracked in two. Write the prayers and the tantrums. The sacred and the profane. The open roads and the closed doors. Nothing is permanent.
You alone own your story. Do not let another tell it, and if you find yourself in the company of one determined to rewrite your words or own your narrative, fight like hell until you hold it again. There is little in life that is solely ours. Your story is one of...
Deal resistance a death blow and make sweet love to your art all night long. Put on your fishnet thigh highs and your patent leather stilettos and your special occasion lingerie. Seduce the hell out of your own creative soul. It’s time for an epic lap dance. Dance for...
We are doing it, me and you. We are doing it with heart. And with art. And with soul and blind faith and ancient knowing. Because we have to. Because there are people who need us to. Because WE need us to most of all. No matter how discouraged you’ve been. No matter...
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