a post secret.

Irene II

Curled up in the easy chair
after the storm
in Brooklyn
I said to you,
making jello at the sink
"This is nice."

Moments passed
until
in a delayed reaction, you turned.

"What is?"

"This. Home."

Irene

I can't write, or study, or sleep, or shower.

This is how I feel ya'llz.

Hurricanes are the worst.

Oogum Boogum.

Truly, this is the perfect song to accompany unpacking bags in a New York City apartment.
Not that I would know anything about that. Sheesh ya'll, did you think my life was perfect or something?

See You Soon.

(Photograph by Haley Hetrick)

                                         


In approximately 5 hours I will be on my way to the airport, to catch a plane, headed for New York City.


Next time I return to the home I have spent the past ten years of my life in, it will be December, and much will have changed. I expected to sit in my room feeling depressed by the emptiness of the walls and the suitcases that sit in a row by the door, but I don't. I thought my room would suddenly transform into an empty space, void of myself. But as long as I stay here, perched on the edge of my bed, it is still mine. The amount of photographs on the wall or the books on the shelves, no longer epitomizes my life. I do. That's what I've been finding most frightening. This feeling that as long as I remain where I am, all that I have held dear will still be mine, but that the moment I leave, I will lose those places, those memories, those relationships. They won't belong so intimately to me anymore, and like my room, they will become empty space.

Despite the weird, calm fragility of my emotions this past week, I am happy. I am, I am, I am.
Maybe once I get to my new city, poetry and prose will start leaking back into my fingertips, creaking into the cracks between my toes, nestling within the tangerine tinted sunbeams of my soul. Until then: "This is my life. And I want you to know that I am both happy and sad and I'm still trying to figure out how that could be." 

Shore and Ground.

(photo by the Sartorialist)

Keep walking, though there's no place to get to.
Don't try to see through the distances. That's not for human beings.
Move within, but don't move the way fear makes you move.
Today, like every other day, we wake up empty and frightened.
Don't open the door to the study and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.


Let the beauty we love be what we do.
There are hundreds of ways to kneel and kiss the ground.   -Rumi

Penny Lane.

I always tell the girls, never take it seriously. If you never take it seriously, you never get hurt, if you never get hurt, you always have fun, and if you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends."
-Almost Famous 

Merrily, Merrily, Merrily.

the jittery / important / affectations / make it seem / better. / isn't that true of life? / it seems / better / to live in a dream / unaware of / the grave. / so we tremble / we ask / do you eat meat? / do you take cream? / did you / sleep well? / did you love me? / calmly, / while biting the worms / from our fingernails / rubbing the dirt from our eyes.

Sunday Mornings

Oh Lord, the faith Thou dost give to St. Paul I cannot ask; the mercy Thou didst show to St. Peter, I dare not ask; but, Lord, the grace Thou didst show to the dying thief, that Lord, show to me.

(photo by The Sartorialist)

Maud Martha and Me.

(via the Sartorialist)

"New York stood as a symbol. Her idea of it stood for what life out to be. Jeweled. Polished. Smiling. Poised. Calmly rushing! Straight up and down, yet graceful enough." -Gwendolyn Brooks 

(via The Sartorialist)

Midnight Revelation.

When you get down to it, Lily, that is the only purpose grand enough for a human life. Not just to love, but to persist in love."    - The Secret Life of Bees