How to Love

 My sons don’t know a world without 9/11. There will soon be adults who have only existed in a post-9/11 world. What a hard place they’ve arrived in. In an interview (read it, she’s so lovely and it shines and shines in this interview) for a series with the Library of Congress, Aracelis Girmay says, I am amazed…

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What was lost

I’m running around like a ghost with a poem stuck in her throat. I’ve been waking up with fragments of really boring, everyday dreams: germinating seeds to plant, plausible emails from jerks, dreams that aren’t all that distinct from reality. Jeez. Can’t catch a break. Because I don’t want to be the sort of person who writes yoga poems,…

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Having a Feeling

Last week I had a really beautiful time with some gorgeous people, found myself laughing on a rooftop with near strangers, got caught in a terrible traffic jam, the sort where people got out of their cars and played guitar and talked to one another on the highway (the photo above is my sons standing through…

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Friends In Relation

I had the most amazing writing group this afternoon, with 12 of the bravest, coolest, most loving and honest people. They were so scared, because the work they are doing is scary, but they went on anyway, lifting one another up, wondering aloud. Every time I think I can’t stand one more ounce of bureaucratic…

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Writing a Love Story

I’m reading at the Nuyorican Poets Cafe this Friday at 10 pm, which is pretty thrilling/I’m nauseous. I’m planning to read some of the body poems, poems that were liberating to write and are uncomfortable to read. One of my favorite books about love and sensuality is Written on the Body by Jeannette Winterson. I lent it…

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Associations & Place & Other Shoes

  I wrote another post ahead of time, with a passage from a book and something about Robyn and dancing, and maybe you’ll see it next week. This morning I’m going to spend a few minutes just writing. I am trying to really think of Aleppo, and I am equally trying not to think about Aleppo. How…

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