Far enough in the past,
the distance between
any two points was exactly zero.
But now the universe is expanding.
There was a time
when I was heartbroken.
But then I realized that
it didn’t have to be him
at the centre of my universe.
And then I realized
that it didn’t have to be any one.
Freedom is found not in the singularity,
but in the continual expansion.
to be gentle is
to feel no need
to prove one's power
I Am Not a Mountain
You look at me
and you want to see a single entity.
You want a mountain.
You want something solid, something fixed.
If I must be something,
at best I might be a river—
never the same from day to day.
But wait, a river is too noble, to reliable.
No, I am not a river.
I am a dandelion.
No, I am not a dandelion.
I am the wind.
No, I am not the wind.
I am the cosmos.
No, I am not the cosmos.
Darling, do you understand what I’m trying to tell you?
You, preparing cups of coffee in the kitchen.
Me, stringing words together on the sofa.
You, reading a book in the bedroom.
Me, folding laundry.
You, returning from an autumn walk.
Me, making soup, listening to a vinyl record.
Me, sprawling in the bathtub.
Then also us, together.
I know the arrangement. It's in my bones.
The softness of it.
The unspoken easiness.
Forget any boisterous popular desires —
just grant me a quiet home.
Love Existed First
There is no grief without love.
Grief is the pain
of something loved
The origins of grief,
the initial seed,
Love always exists first.
And while this knowledge might not fix anything,
it might help us get through the longest nights.
What is your profession?
Not, what makes you money?
Rather, what do you wish to profess to the world?
What is your statement?
What is your anchor?
What is your North Star?
What do you seek?
What do you offer?
To whom do you give your love?
Tell me, what is your heart’s profession?
Hey, Nice Walls
You guard your heart
as if it had the fragility
of a sandcastle.
Of what are you so afraid?
That a whisper of rejection
might cause cracks in the foundation?
That a gust of affection
would rattle your kingdom
and undo the effort it required to build those walls.
I Am That
What do you know
about me and my masculinity?
What simple story do you stitch together
based on my face?
Or the way I move through the world?
Or these pithy words?
Imagine something strong and steadfast.
Yes, I am that.
Imagine something warm and breakable.
Yes, I am that.
Roses Aren't the Only Flowers
To move forward,
we transform ex-lovers
from roses to weeds.
To stop the love we feel,
But how does a person
selectively close the heart?
How does a person
switch off love?
There is no half-heart.
No secret door.
No partial access.
The heart is open
— or it’s not.
Yes, I still see you as a rose.
But I've learned to love other flowers.
And So Forth
that I may have a lover who lives around the corner
and he may wish to come over late one evening
and we may listen to a jazz song I discovered
and he may tell me about a film he watched
that I may rest my head on his lap
and we may undress each other
and we may fall asleep with bodies entangled
and he may quietly slip away the next morning
that I may continue on with my day
but with the lightness of his being
evoking a lightness in mine
that I may smile at strangers on the train
and they may also feel a lightness
and so forth.
The Person I Want to Be
Loving you is a particular endeavour.
I’m required to be
my most patient,
my most nonreactive,
my most gentle.
But that’s the person I want to be.
So, to love you is to become a better me.
If you come to me with a broken heart,
I will not look at you with pity.
I will look at you with understanding —
that the world is bewildering,
that desire is devilish,
that love does not always last.
I will give you space to weep.
And then I will implore you
to keep your heart breakable.