I wrote this a year ago as a reminder and inner navigation tool for myself as we entered a period of unprecedented political instability and uncertainty. It's easy to get lost nowadays in the fog and darkness of our chaotic times. But there is a light. Run toward the light Run toward the light. Run toward the hope. Run toward the beauty. Systems and ideologies can crush our bones, they can take our livelihoods, they can threaten our security, but... They cannot own our souls.

in lonesome darkness Week 16: Cocoon the heart heals in lonesome darkness Cocoon It was dark but I was not afraid because the darkness was not my enemy this time of uncertainty and doubt  wasn’t stagnation or regression it was a holding pattern  a crucible of transformation this place wasn’t a death sentence it wasn’t a tomb at all it was a womb and I  a miracle Description: This poem is a quiet declaration of rebirth. Reframing darkness and uncertainty as necessary stages of

in lonesome darkness Week 15: Some Distant Shore the heart heals in lonesome darkness Some Distant Shore I wandered on some distant shore weary-eyed and worn pregnant with regret and grief morose from childhood sores I stumbled in the granular sand the earth between my toes lost and found and losing faith and yet becoming more Reflection: This poem is a reflective journey through weariness, doubt, and becoming. Some distant shore symbolizes a new beginning, a new chapte

in lonesome darkness Week 14: Tin Man the exile waits in lonesome darkness Tin Man My frame is hollow. No fight  or flight left, only freeze. Clinging  to the image of who  I once was. Clutching ancient weapons to guard against  predators and pedophiles. Dreaming  of love like people dream of returning  home at the end of a long journey. Settling for oil and rubies and gold to fill  the empty chambers  where the heart was meant to be. Description: This poem is a stark reimagi

in lonesome darkness Week 13: I Once Was the exile waits in lonesome darkness I Once Was I once was but am no longer that curious child innocent and devious sun blistered shoulders pinewood derby trophies blonde hair and mislaid eyes lanky and happy and awkward unknown to the world and to myself drifting through time like a hapless cloud waiting around like an extra on the set of my life trapped inside other people's hopes but dreaming of being                         a perso

in lonesome darkness Week 12: Here truth bears witness in lonesome darkness Here I tried to be present            to the pain to look at reality         in all its vulgar holiness to be vulnerable and known       without pretense or fiction but it's much easier to escape       into bottles and brothels and basilicas than it is to truly be          here. ​ Description: "Here" is a spare, confessional meditation on presence and avoidance. Through stark contrasts—holiness and vu

in lonesome darkness Week 11: The Abyss truth bears witness in lonesome darkness The Abyss Don't be afraid of the abyss its infinite darkness or its percipient shadow  for in the deep black nothing hides the truth  of all we are. Description: This poem is a brief, meditative reflection on fear and self-knowledge. Using the abyss as a metaphor for inner depth and uncertainty, it reframes darkness not as something to be feared but as a space of revelation. The long pause before

in lonesome darkness Week 10: Duplex the body rests in lonesome darkness Duplex Description: This poem is a stark, unsettling meditation on division within the self. Using the image of a duplex, it frames the body as a split dwelling—two sides existing in parallel but incomplete states. The repetition and abrupt fragmentation suggest disconnection, violence, or psychic rupture, inviting the reader to confront themes of duality, dissociation, and the uneasy coexi

in lonesome darkness Week 9: Morphine the body rests in lonesome darkness Morphine you are in the bed upright and calm an Orlando   Sentinel  lays unread on the nightstand The Price is Right  plays in the background the Republican party calls to collect one last donation  a thin white sheet covers your thin white skin anxious bodies blanket you with silent prayers caretakers, paid and voluntary, act out the sacred rites as you watch with distant eyes morphine dripping off you

in lonesome darkness Week 8: Poetry Is poetry lives in lonesome darkness Poetry Is Poetry is a way of describing the world not as it is, or even how I wish for it to be, but how it actually feels to be in the world. Poetry is singing in the dark, not because singing in the dark turns on some secret light, but because singing in the dark makes me feel less alone and afraid. Poetry is like digging deep into the soil, knowing that the ground must be disturbed, before any new lif