letters to no one

Dear Seconds Flat

Fri, 10 May 2013 23:24:00 -0400

My mind is a grey, hazy morning. One eye open to treetops cowering at the sight of rain. Pounding on sidewalk till the concrete browns. One eye closed as the world news passes for a ticking clock. There’s always a build up before a standstill: in music, a crescendo.

Dear Redemption Song

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 23:27:39 -0400

You headed east to find adventure. “The world feels wide open,” you used to say. “I want it to swallow me whole.” I never understood you. With your big eyes hungry, your heart made easy. You were always so dramatic. Swallowed whole, like the world had been waiting for you all along. Open, as if there was an insatiable need for your beautiful, dark face somewhere. I’m only sorry that I was never able to love you properly. All consuming, eloquently.

Dear Samaná

Mon, 15 Apr 2013 17:13:00 -0400

We landed in the middle of a heat wave and were told to stay inside the lines. Climbing down a stairway from heaven into paradise, our eyes burned bright from the colour. Viridian and ultramarine, it was as if we’d been blind all along and were suddenly made to see.

I remember slow dancing in the water. Kicking up sand as we shuffled along the blue ocean floor. When we grew tired we would float close enough together to anchor ourselves from the push, pulling tide. Rest under an ever burning star. On shore sometime later, covered in freckles and drenched in love, I kissed you and tasted salt water.

Dear Part of Me No One Knows

Sat, 30 Mar 2013 22:36:00 -0400

She has this mark above her navel. A beauty spot. It’s round and dark, anchored and celestial and I tell her it’s my North Star. “Belonging or relating to heaven.” She laughs her sweet laugh and asks me if I’ve ever been lost. Bewildered. “Second to the right, straight on till morning.”

Dear Little Bird

Wed, 13 Mar 2013 22:40:00 -0400

Write your name in the sky, sing your song to the heavens. Every lark is born unsure (unaware) of how to fly. Every sparrow. The nest may seem a long way up (long way down) from someplace, somewhere but it’s something. Call it home. Call it yours. Call it practice for the real thing, the big thing that pulls us out of our selves and demands that we be ready. Able. Beautiful and strong to move through with purpose.

Dear Dream Weaver

Fri, 01 Mar 2013 20:54:00 -0500

“Close those eyes. One day, star. You and I dream in living colour because life is a palette of intake and output. It favours the brave. L I S T E N when I tell you to burn for something more than warmth. Strive. What is freedom? It’s what happens when you divide risk by courage. Rounded out chances (sometimes you pray). Be ready to run.”

Dear Things That Are Different

Sun, 24 Feb 2013 21:10:00 -0500

The meaning behind words. The feeling behind glances. When we kiss. How we touch. The volume of actions. Me, myself and I (genuine, true). What we value (laced fingers). Whether it matters.

Dear Things That Are The Same

Tue, 19 Feb 2013 00:59:00 -0500

Only the basics, like when boy meets girl. The way we breathe (in, then out) and the shapes we make. How brightly we see sparks.

Dear Heart on High

Sun, 10 Feb 2013 19:42:00 -0500

They heard our laughter all over the city. Under the sun, over the snow. “How long have you known?” one asked another, “How long has it shown?” Burst, gush! Face to palm, fingers through hair. Beautiful, keep your head up.

Dear Future I Wish I Could Have

Wed, 30 Jan 2013 23:19:00 -0500

It would be a short walk to the local market from where we lived, and in the summer, bicycles with baskets and flower stalls would line the sidewalk. (Peonies tied together with string). Inside, we’d browse, we’d touch, we’d taste what earth had to offer before we carried it home. Sweet peaches, something green. When the sun turned in, we’d sit beneath a ripening sky and marinate in each others company. (Wink back at the fireflies).

Dear Jolene

Mon, 21 Jan 2013 14:24:00 -0500

I am a thousand empty miles away from you, lodged somewhere between structure and wild. I’ve found that s p a c e is the only remedy for the state I’m in (I’ve been lost); oblivion to forget that I am made up of water and bone. Today the sky cracked open, and in a rare but courageous moment, I heard you call (I’ve been found).

Dear Wagon Wheel

Fri, 11 Jan 2013 00:05:00 -0500

Small town star spangled, ways away from you. In a place where stories are meant to be told, I realized that even in its absence, love pulses and pulls. It anticipates. Behind the bar open ears tend to heavy hearts, and in the corner of the room an old band plays stolen practised blues.

Dear White Roofed Houses

Wed, 26 Dec 2012 19:51:00 -0500

While you were dreaming, winter came in the night and danced above you an imperial ballet of milk like moonlight and orchestrated stars. She made no sound but with slow, enfolding movements she let herself be known. My beauty is annihilating and I know no sorrow like my own!

It’s morning now but you stay quiet, sitting silent still in your orderly rows. Unaware, unknowing that white picket fences lay deep beneath a dusting of snow.

Dear Wild Thing

Sun, 16 Dec 2012 11:52:00 -0500

“I’m waiting for something to happen. Big bang, B A N G! I want to drown in alternative measures, mix myself up in the right kind of wrong. Little by little, get it all down. Do I think about him? …Only as shapes and shadows. I long for him in a primitive way. Love is an indulgence and he’s a simple shade of blue. ”

Dear Sunday Morning

Mon, 03 Dec 2012 15:39:00 -0500

We live in the moments between dreaming and living (although I find they are one in the same). Wrapped in new found affection, we are enlightened by the honesty in our movements and inspired by the art in our form. Dovetailed curves and delicate angles, there are swirls of gold painted onto our covers and our skin is infused with an artists warmth.

Dear Ten Mile Point

Tue, 20 Nov 2012 15:21:00 -0500

Here we have the naming of parts. Part one; the beginning. Late summer, ext. A long walk up a hill. I asked you what you believed in and you kissed me long and hard. Closing shot, sunset. Pink and purple paint streaks atop the deepest blue. There. That was where it felt like always.

Dear Masterpiece

Sun, 11 Nov 2012 21:58:20 -0500

My body is full of sentences. Moments waiting to be portrayed. You are made of paper, a body thirsty for word. Sustained by ink. Whether we are bound by leather or gilded with gold, our best together is nothing more than our worth apart.

Dear Blueprint

Wed, 31 Oct 2012 09:37:00 -0400

Today we are architects, coordinating art and science to construct a living marvel. Our own Parthenon. Plans are drawn from the things you ask (what defines you) and the way I answer (I see myself as waves and branches). Foundation is built upon what we say and how we move. Artist and engineer, we carefully measure symmetry on paper.

Dear Star Girl

Sun, 21 Oct 2012 09:40:10 -0400

“Look up! There past the stratosphere…do you see what I see? Divinity in it’s purest form. Oh, all my life I’ve been falling in love with the idea of wide open space. Somewhere to e x p a n d --down here I feel so…so constricted. Caught on all the concrete, unable to float. I’m ready for the next part of the story. I want to burn up and be born again.”

Dear New Dance

Sun, 14 Oct 2012 10:26:00 -0400

All it took was another reason to be thankful. Red like the roses, it happened at hello.