falling folds of gray
careening off a building
newspaper pigeon
Poem, 11/17
California gets
all of the light from the day
accumulated
Where we speak from
When we move through our own constructs, when we speak from the heart and not our thought-ideologies, we create joy for each other. We present our true selves. It is from this space we can truly love one another. When you see or feel this, express it. Share it. Be it.
Poem, 11/6
[with Jim]
Amazonian
toenail polish like headlights
talons blind mine eyes
The week in gay
It’s been a banner week.
I curated and hosted a panel of creative LGBT entrepreneurs at SVA. It’s called Designtrepreneurs, and this was the third in the series (and the first in New York) after two successful events in San Francisco. With almost 100 in attendance, moderated by the incomparable Debbie Millman, and featuring panelists Ben Watson, Executive Creative Director at Herman Miller; Mary Taylor, founder of Salt & Olive; Thomas Page McBee, author of Man Alive; and Ryan Fitzgibbon, Founder & Publisher of hello mr., I was thrilled that they participated, and that so many connections were shared across their individual experiences. Common themes were: living with vulnerability and courage, aligning head with heart, and having faith in your own life.
Two days later, the news of Tim Cook coming out as the first out CEO of a Fortune 500 company — let alone the most valuable company in the world — made me cheer at my 7am Twitter feed. I immediately texted Jonathan Lovitz, spokesperson for StartOut, and other leaders from that org, that we were +1, to a total of 3 out CEOs. Because Tim’s doing it, that sunlit path got a lot sunnier for others to follow suit.
And if all that weren’t enough, I launched an updated landing page for my new biz, and got a fantastic new apartment in the newly minted Potrission (Potrero + Mission) hood.
Cage quote
in About
The more I live, the more this quote is becoming resonant with me. I clipped it from the NYTimes many many years ago, as if it called out to me in advance, aspirationally. The mind is a chatty thing.
Poem, 10/12
what is there to say?
the Pacific ate our words
swallowed us slowly
Poem, 8/18
nature doesn’t ask
the purpose of the flower.
pick any reason
Poem, 6/2
when i die, happy explosions will be yours.
we tried so hard, these tiny
atoms of consequence.
a billion letters never sent,
words i couldn’t express:
all will resolve, calmly
forming an other’s
quest for meaning.
Poem, 5/6
[with apologies to Edna St. Vincent Millay's Recuerdo]
it was very sunny, it was very hurried
we drove back and forth across the city
and i rented a mini, and drove it down lombard street
and i tried not to think it was like us:
lush, brief, beautiful, pretty;
popular attractions among many.
it was very foggy, it was very quiet
at the pho place with delicious complexity
like a library, a chain of libraries,
a template of noodles and tea.
during the day we sent postcards to our mothers
and pointed down at greenways hiding cars.
it was very brief, it was very sudden
the snap of a sheet, a city engulfed in flames
but to know i got close makes my chest hurt less.
it came close, but it came.
it was all for you, lover. my all, and all that i had.