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i know its the middle of summer when i have a breakdown about who i am and the passage of time

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新緑の頃・・

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lesbian rocks i found in my cousin’s backyard

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i. when i was 19 and in a very hetero relationship, i fell in love with Andrea Gibson.

ii. we were poor so i was going to community college and also working a full-time job. i was miserable. the nicest thing that happened to me during that time was that someone bought me a free coffee. i had been sobbing in the corner of the library. she said you look like you needed help. i was so sad at the time that i was looking for "the sign". almost like a mantra, i'd say things like if there's a nice sunset, i won't kill myself tomorrow.

iii. you know, in all that time, i never wanted anything. the idea of desire was so foreign to me that i couldn't conceptualize a favorite color. what is want in the voidspace?

iv. andrea was the first, is the thing. i found their work on button poetry. i watched a poem once and then twice and then sat back and thought to myself - what i had been writing was not poetry, it was reaction. what andrea was writing was poetry. i knew it had to be, because it burst inside of me. i looked down and a hole had torn open. there was nothing for it. i put my hands inside the wound and started to pull.

v. it was slam poetry and then pretentious poetry and then esoteric poetry and then the black mountain poets and then tender buttons and then back to slam again and then back to the classics and theory and the academic shit and then finally thank-god understanding started dawning and then upwards into contemporaries and inwards into why aren't i writing something real and then realizing i never understood anything then crying about three syllables that don't sound right and then sunning myself outside of the emily dickinson house and then back to slam and back to the roots of it and backwards into -

vi. and the joy! holy fuck i wish i could tell you about it. on the back of ink came life. it was community and safety and pushing limits. it was saying oh yeah no i'm gay and oh shit i'm nonbinary. it was a cliche; life like a map just exploding. because i knew - i had my thing. wherever i went, so too would come writing.

vii. on saturday i reached 7,700 poems on here. i made myself a gin and tonic to celebrate. i have been writing seriously, almost-every-day, sometimes multiple times a day - for over 10 years. i started this, became this - because i saw someone stand on stage and say something i knew to be poetry.

viii. andrea died today, july 14th, 2025, at the age of 49.

ix. i will never have the words for what they gave me.

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My love, I was so wrong. Dying is the opposite of leaving. When I left my body, I did not go away. That portal of light was not a portal to elsewhere, but a portal to here. I am more here than I ever was before. I am more with you than I ever could have imagined. So close you look past me when wondering where I am. It’s Ok. I know that to be human is to be farsighted. But feel me now, walking the chambers of your heart, pressing my palms to the soft walls of your living. Why did no one tell us that to die is to be reincarnated in those we love while they are still alive? Ask me the altitude of heaven, and I will answer, “How tall are you?” In my back pocket is a love note with every word you wish you’d said. At night I sit ecstatic at the loom weaving forgiveness into our worldly regrets. All day I listen to the radio of your memories. Yes, I know every secret you thought too dark to tell me, and love you more for everything you feared might make me love you less. When you cry I guide your tears toward the garden of kisses I once planted on your cheek, so you know they are all perennials. Forgive me, for not being able to weep with you. One day you will understand. One day you will know why I read the poetry of your grief to those waiting to be born, and they are all the more excited. There is nothing I want for now that we are so close I open the curtain of your eyelids with my own smile every morning. I wish you could see the beauty your spirit is right now making of your pain, your deep seated fears playing musical chairs, laughing about how real they are not. My love, I want to sing it through the rafters of your bones, Dying is the opposite of leaving. I want to echo it through the corridor of your temples, I am more with you than I ever was before.  Do you understand? It was me who beckoned the stranger who caught you in her arms when you forgot not to order for two at the coffee shop. It was me who was up all night gathering sunflowers into your chest the last day you feared you would never again wake up feeling lighthearted. I know it’s hard to believe, but I promise it’s the truth. I promise one day you will say it too– I can’t believe I ever thought I could lose you.

love letter from the afterlife, andrea gibson

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Family Recipe

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happy disability pride month and once again, FUCK lazy subtitles. fuck the [speaks foreign language] instead of actually transcribing the words, fuck shortening sentences and changing whats been said for no reason, fuck censoring swearing in captions but not in audio and fuck anyone who says youre being 'too sensitive' for being upset about a lack of accessibility

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my favourite poet in the world just died today what the fuck. rest in peace Andrea Gibson

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The footpath

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st. gilgen, salzburg on film 📷

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hey when you stop letting the occasional hyperawareness of the microscopic significance of your life and the events in it trigger a crisis about how everything in this world, including you and the things you care about, are worthless - but instead use it as a tool to re-realise that if nothing matters to the universe then that power is handed on down to you; how much something matters is completely in your hands and you can weaponise it to make a bad thing a speck of dust or a beautiful thing your entire sky - yeah. that’s when it gets a teensy, tiny, microscopical bit easier. 

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had not one… not two… but lucky number three! panic attacks today! over different things! so. yeah. shit is hard. but tomorrow I’m getting up early to watch the sunrise for the first time this summer and have a nice breakfast after. and i think despite it all i will be okay. i love you. you will too.

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i think the western world has made us so caught up on having a purpose and finding it for our whole entire lives. some indigenous cultures believe we’re alive and here just as trees and animals are: to be here and to beautiful and strange, to simply just be. we don’t need to achieve anything to be valid in our humanness.

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i think the western world has made us so caught up on having a purpose and finding it for our whole entire lives. some indigenous cultures believe we’re alive and here just as trees and animals are: to be here and to beautiful and strange, to simply just be. we don’t need to achieve anything to be valid in our humanness.

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gay people in my phone that follow me (my dear dear mutuals) one of my close friend’s sister just got picked to be a background actor in heartstopper what the FUCK. what THEEEEEEEEEEE FUCK