I’ve been thinking for a while about setting up my own little corner of the internet, where I can share the thoughts that sometimes make my brain a very noisy place until I let them out in the form of writing (usually at 2am).
Why lovespill, which isn’t even a real English word? (I know, my English major soul should be cringing.)
But it’s the title of the very first poem I wrote that I felt was a Real Poem, that represented my adult self as a writer, the first piece of writing I felt really encapsulated my own voice. I wrote it in creative wiring class in my senior year in high school, on one of those lazy afternoons when our (young, cool) teacher would let us laze on the front lawn of the school and write whatever came to mind. It came out of me in one huge burst, almost a stream-of-consciousness paragraph, which I later edited into a poem like structure. But it remains a poem that, even though I wrote it when I was sixteen, still feels true and still evokes a pretty emotional reaction in people whenever I read it publicly.
And most importantly, in this very fraught time of our collective history, it reinforces my philosophy of writing and of dealing with the world. Because I believe in combating hate and violence and lies with truth, and beauty, and love.
An excerpt from “Lovespill”:
Even as we sitsilently in the same roomor scream things we will be ashamed ofin 27 seconds, tears frozenon angry faces;we are still bound,indifferent or fighting.Our cells are in harmony and only these peoplewill be my oasisdonate bone marrow if I get leukemiamake silent reluctant sacrifices I willnever know of, as I return the favourin ignorance; all of us kneelinglabouringunder this yoke of lovewith bloody knees and shoulderstrapped heartsand fulfilled lives.
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