on birthdays, cherries, and old poems for new lovers.
All day I hear the birds. In the morning, the streets are silent but I hear the birds. Jenna tells me which bird is which, points out the blue jay…
At the start of 2020, I sat on an empty beach under the stars as the waves made blue whorls in the darkness, and I kissed the faces of those next to me…
drifts, desire, and a run in with ghosts.
missives from my notes app
All night, we hear the wind chimes tied to the tree in the backyard, and in the morning one could mistake their sound for strange and distant birds…
footnotes on touch
a roundup: what I'm reading, watching, talking, laughing, loving, breathing, fighting, f*cking, crying, drinking—um—
on want & the spaces we recognize ourselves.