the smallest man who ever lived*

(a poem)

the smallest man who ever lived*

spends so much
money on himself 
and zero on his kids 

(*borrowed the title of this poem from the title of a Taylor Swift song)

There’s a whole gamut of emotions expressed in my new book, poem art therapy, that releases in a few weeks. I write to metabolize those emotions (grief, pain, anger) into healing for me and for others.

“Your poems are healing me” is one of my favorite things to hear, and I’m so lucky to hear it a lot.

Not gonna lie though. Once I get all this grief (deconstruction, my sister disowning me, my ex cheating and leaving, etc.) “out of my system,” I would love to just metabolize some happy for a bit. (okay, so there’s already a lot of happy—and snarky—mixed in with all the pain)

If you’d like to follow along as I metabolize shit in real time in a semi-private space, I’d love for you to become a paid subscriber.

Happy Thursday!