I doodled a smiley face on the breakfast tracker sheet half an hour before life gave me a reason to google the biological processes of death. I wanted to know how long he’d been there like that before I found him. I’m now in a vicious staring contest with grief; the pulsing risk of my vocation, more of a guarantee than a risk, really.

A prayer for National Poetry Writing Month. "Awaken our emotions and senses. Align our writing hands with our hearts and minds - our holy trinity - so we may pour poetry onto the page."

What I know for certain is that stillness can heal.

let’s focus a sweet, silly, somewhat salty moment on that which brings me joy:

I don't intend this to become a free for all in bashing religion, even though expressions of my hurt will likely come off as salty.

Our cities are all uniquely shaped by what we experience in them. This is my version of a city tour: