Standing on the shoreline it’s impossible to see even two feet beneath the dark water. But somehow the Loons know. To watch them suddenly rolling under to snatch their breakfast is mesmerizing.

If I were to write a caption it would read, “Here I am studying the stripped-down version of my own sanctuary while Poet studies the stripped-down version of me.”

There were just 2,160 steps between where my daddy sat at his desk inside Neiman Marcus and the spot where Kennedy was killed.

This nameless grandfather [pictured below] kindred to the age when my Grand-Mère left this earth, transformed my definition of a beautiful image.

We weren’t meant to linger in the hard moment, but to pass through it. Not so swiftly that we neglect to leave evidence of our humanity behind.

Sometimes the miles required are much more than we ever imagined to get to where we need to be from where we are.

I read the abbreviated profiles and marvel at how much of ourselves we’ve abdicated for the sake of space.

Entry in my arms is nearly nonexistent. So, we improvise and access the delicate veins in my hands.

Sometimes I talk about difficult things so that we are ready when the hard moment comes.

We follow one another’s lead, like Breadcrumbs through our lives.

I walked right up to the gate and inexplicably, I failed to board the plane. 

Perhaps there is no easy way with cancer. But I chose the one most misunderstood. That choice has cost me the respect of some.

There was a time it seemed important to train my Great Dane puppies how to eat without slobbering all over the walls.

Some were manicured. Some were bitten and worn from labor and stress.

This is the fun part. When seeds sewn blossom into something eccentric and untamed, like wildflowers in an open field.

Have we misunderstood that the knowledge we can offer the world is mastered in some online course or seated in a conference hall?

His arm and the colors of his tattooed sleeve. The hues of green, the colors of me.

It isn’t rare that I see the fleeting movement, like a soft brushstroke in the corner of my eye.

I didn’t plan this. It planned me. Piles and piles of things lovely and once-loved telling me to let them go…

My DNA is evident in the way my lips know how to round and pucker when I say Je t’aime…