About 4 years ago, I survived two strokes. But I’m fine—on the outside. Sometimes this survival feels like a burden, a quiet accusation whispered over years, trauma tinnitus. This poem explores what it’s like to live after trauma that leaves no marks, my resistance to gratitude, and the ungrieved self I lost along the way.
Date Archives December 2025
Six Strings, Borrowed Air |
Where Sound Becomes Movement
Six strings, borrowed air, and a body that remembers before the mind does. This poem explores how sound turns into movement, how resistance generates music, and how meaning is experienced—quietly, physically, and beyond language or technique.
The Great Blueberry Ballgame |
On Baseball, Blueberries, and Making Do
I don’t remember when I first heard this story—only that by the time I was old enough to question it, it already felt true. A small town, a baseball game, and a solution so wrong it worked.
The Cat—Who Was and Wasn’t—In the Hat |
Or: Why Can't Reality Just Behave Already?
Quantum physics is strange, slippery, and famously unintuitive. I wondered how Dr. Seuss would explain it. Let’s explore particles, waves, and Schrödinger’s cat through memorable rhyme and playful whimsy, so see if we can explain why reality refuses to behave itself.
Designed Obsolescence |
On Being Briefly Unique in an Ambivalent World
I came into being suddenly, sharp and overbuilt for a life so short. Tossed by wind and erased by warmth, I fell toward a little girl’s nose. In that instant, I existed fully—and then I was gone. No legacy, no monument, just the undeniable reality of being briefly real.
Non-Personhood |
Memories of a Child Raised in a Blind Spot
I was an invisible child, shaped by abuse and neglect. I learned to disappear, to protect my sisters, and to survive a household that couldn’t give me what I needed. This is my story of anger, memory, and reclaiming the self I was taught not to have.
My Humanism: Making Sense Out of Nonsense |
From Catholicism to Good Without God
I was raised Catholic, lost my faith early, and spent decades without a name for my disbelief. Humanism didn’t convert me—it clarified me. This is what humanism means to me, and why it offers a grounded, humane framework for living without the need for divine permission.
The Utterly Unforgivable Uselessness of Gas Leaf Blowers |
A Love Letter to Their Extinction
I’m done suffering through gas leaf blowers—those noisy, polluting, two-stroke nightmares that turn my neighborhood into a shrieking wasteland while barely moving a leaf. Working from home means enduring their chaos constantly, and I’ve had enough. This is my call for their extinction and the return of blessed, unbroken quiet.
Kintsugi Me: Seeking Beauty in My Breakage |
Right Piece. Wrong Puzzle.
At 51, after 2 strokes and decades of misfit labor, I’m learning to embrace my flaws. Like kintsugi, my breakage and repair tell a story—my story—of struggle, survival, and the art of becoming whole again.
Katherine Hepburn & The Tender Logic of Unbelief |
When the universe offers no answers, choose kindness.
I explore atheism, morality, and meaning without illusions—because when the universe refuses to answer, I choose kindness as my only honest compass. Katharine Hepburn’s blunt atheism mirrors my own: no gods, no cosmic rewards, just our human duty to care for one another.