Fires Seen From Space
Spring can't come fast enough. I've seen snowdrops, heard mourning doves and the ice cream truck is back again, idling outside the park.
Part of what's burning in me now is writing that I need to get out, so I guess I might start blogging again. Maybe, maybe not. I have disconnected from most social media so maybe I'll plant a flag here for the next couple weeks. I'm giving this ghost thing a try to see how it flows. My intention is to share what's in the field for me, in an effort to respond to and engage with this chaotic moment– today is March 6, 2025 and I'm located on the ancestral land of the Lenape people, colonially referred to as Brooklyn, New York.
If you're here, I'm guessing it's because you know me and we're family or friends, but maybe I'll make an about page for folks who wander in. Among the constellations of my identities, one of my identifications is as a writer. Fires Seen From Space is my third book, it was released in November by Winter Editions and is distributed by Asterism. I'm grateful for the generous review of my book that just appeared in the Poetry Project Newsletter from Jacob Kahn. I'm really looking forward to reading at the Project again later this month on March 26th at 7 pm in NYC with Daisy Atterbury. Reading details & a link for the livestream are available here.
When the book came out, I was hiding upstate in various locations trying to escape the mold in my apartment that's been negatively impacting my health for years. November and December were a bit of a blur. January, I spent the whole of the month in silent meditation at Forest Refuge. It took most of February to readjust to city life and now it's suddenly March.
I have a daily writing practice that, like meditation and movement, keep me grounded and flexible, building capacity to be with what is. I'm thrilled that I've been able to share some of this work in book form. Books take a really long time to make though, and who really reads poetry books? Instead of waiting another ten years for material to pile up, I'm going to share here. Will it be poetry? Probably not. But it will document some of my attempts at sense making, way-finding, trying to figure out how to navigate the hatred and delusion that permeate every day now. It's supportive for me to write it down, I hope that there may be something useful, entertaining or interesting for others to read in it.