Constellations, I stepped into your June and felt the air thicken, dream-heavy, breath by breath. Each image opened a door—amber glass, trembling veins, root beer memories catching light. You offered a map of days that didn’t pass, they pressed in. Still, you let jasmine float.
The way you name the body—tight across bone, sun-warmed, river-washed—carries a kind of clarity that stays. I felt every line in my own skin, the way some truths hum low and steady beneath everything else.
Your language moves like music rising through grief, rhythm woven from ache and beauty. Gather round us—the us of being beauty gave me pause in the best way. It invites presence. It holds what words rarely do.
The river carries you, and you carry the poem. Fully. Fiercely. Wisely. Everything belongs here—every bloom, every shadow, every drop of sweet mint tea under sweltering sky.
Take care of yourself please and let Laura, your hounds, family take care of you. You are worth it. Love xoxo Jay
Thank you, dear friend. Jay, I so needed some encouragement and yes will continue to be cared for by Laura and the hounds and family. I’ve been feeling so raw and almost deleted this poem. You are otherworldly in the best way, Jay! Xoxo love you so.
I have dangerous hope, Sister. A kind of alchemy of imaginings of a generation of wise beings and poets! Painters and writers! We are all poets after all. It’s a humanity thing!
Constellations, I stepped into your June and felt the air thicken, dream-heavy, breath by breath. Each image opened a door—amber glass, trembling veins, root beer memories catching light. You offered a map of days that didn’t pass, they pressed in. Still, you let jasmine float.
The way you name the body—tight across bone, sun-warmed, river-washed—carries a kind of clarity that stays. I felt every line in my own skin, the way some truths hum low and steady beneath everything else.
Your language moves like music rising through grief, rhythm woven from ache and beauty. Gather round us—the us of being beauty gave me pause in the best way. It invites presence. It holds what words rarely do.
The river carries you, and you carry the poem. Fully. Fiercely. Wisely. Everything belongs here—every bloom, every shadow, every drop of sweet mint tea under sweltering sky.
Take care of yourself please and let Laura, your hounds, family take care of you. You are worth it. Love xoxo Jay
Thank you, dear friend. Jay, I so needed some encouragement and yes will continue to be cared for by Laura and the hounds and family. I’ve been feeling so raw and almost deleted this poem. You are otherworldly in the best way, Jay! Xoxo love you so.
I sense a lot of pain that you spin into words of beauty and hope in a sea of despond. May hope be the winner in your life.
And we begin again! I appreciate your kindness.
A rough year for so many We have to hope for better.🤞🙏💕
I have dangerous hope, Sister. A kind of alchemy of imaginings of a generation of wise beings and poets! Painters and writers! We are all poets after all. It’s a humanity thing!
Oh, dear Ruth. Yes. It’s been a rough year. Thank you for the blessing!
A rough year for so many. We have to hope for better.🤞🙏💕
Yes! Let’s hope collaboratively. The us of us. All good things.