for Amanda "Arkansassy" Harris and All Of Us Amanda…... *pause* Strange isn’t it. How the sound of her name holds a new weight. As if it were an incantation. Or a lament. Strange how the whisper of her name can sometimes feel like a scream. That’s what grief does. It transforms. It disfigures. It makes… Continue reading Broken Things. A Eulogy
Written after meeting Erin Allday, Kevin, and Mick of Last Men Standing an article and film about long term survivors of HIV/AIDS. One: For being unable to grieve Many: You are forgiven One: For not going to the funerals Many: You are forgiven One: For being unable to do anything Many: You are forgiven One: For working… Continue reading A Litany For Long-Term HIV/AIDS Survivors
You are 12 years gone. And yet I feel you beside me. These past few months you have walked with me when others couldn’t. It was you that prepared me. I remember the phone call. The one telling me you were gone. I screamed. I fell to the floor. A scream like that, it has… Continue reading 12 Years Gone
What I (think I) know about grief is…. It makes you forget. You get lost driving to work. You never know what day it is. You forget your lovers name, just for a second. What I (think I) know about grief is…. It changes time. You say last week. What you mean is yesterday. An… Continue reading What I (think I) Know About Grief Is….
This town, it is my memory. Like it was then, when we’d take turns as passengers, closing our eyes while others drove us through these streets we’d memorized, just so we could guess where we were. It was a game. We were never wrong. This town, it is a soundtrack, the vibration of electric bass and… Continue reading This Town.