Of course…

Of course, I'm a bad idea,
and tossing yourself
into my downpour
takes bravery and courage, 
but someone once told
Martin Luther King Jr, equality
was a bad idea and someone
said that Gandhi could 
never find peace and I know
Louis and Clark were crazy, 
venturing into the unknown. 
And Galileo was thrown in prison, 
because he had an awful idea 
thinking the Earth was round.

Sometimes the train wreck ideas,
have the most beautiful results
and there is always 
lightness in a dark entity
and some darkness in the light
and creation after destruction. 
So perhaps your terrible idea, 
falling for me (and I for you) 
could someday be the best idea. 


Maybe it could be. 
Courage to live. 
Courage to love and be loved. 
Maybe it could be the 
craziest, best idea
ever. We never know unless we
actually give it a chance. 

I want the 4am version of you

     half-drunk on wine
   half-drunk on nostalgia
I want to see your eyes light up
      when you remember
   all of the old stories
that made you who you are, today
   I want to hold your hand
   while you cry because you
    don't know what the fuck
       you are even doing
      in this life anymore
 I want to half-smile and cheers you
to figuring out newer and crazier dreams
      and when you ask "how"
      I want to say "together"
    I will hold you in my arms 
             and say


Perfect People

life isn't made for perfect
people. it's made for those
who know how to turn an 
impossible situation into 
something beautiful. it's 
made for fighters. dreamers.
lovers. and people who won't 
give up even when life feels 

it's not perfect.
it's not easy.
but that's why we're 
made so damn tough.

/topher kearby

The Hug

It was your birthday, we had drunk and dined
    Half of the night with our old friend
        Who’d showed us in the end
    To a bed I reached in one drunk stride.
        Already I lay snug,
And drowsy with the wine dozed on one side.

I dozed, I slept. My sleep broke on a hug,
        Suddenly, from behind,
In which the full lengths of our bodies pressed:
         Your instep to my heel,
     My shoulder-blades against your chest.
     It was not sex, but I could feel
     The whole strength of your body set,
             Or braced, to mine,
         And locking me to you
     As if we were still twenty-two
     When our grand passion had not yet
         Become familial.
     My quick sleep had deleted all
     Of intervening time and place.
         I only knew
The stay of your secure firm dry embrace.

-Thom Gunn

Go Give the World

I do not crave to have thee mine alone, dear
  Keeping thy charms within my jealous sight; 
Go, give the world the blessing of thy beauty,
  That other hearts may share of my delight!

I do no ask, thy love should be mine only
  While others falter through the dreary night; 
Go, kiss the tears from some wayfarer's vision, 
  That other eyes may know the joy of light!

Where days are sad and skies are hung with darkness,
  Go, send a smile that sunshine may be rife; 
Go, give a song, a word of kindly greeting,
  To ease the sorrow of some lonely life! 

-Otto Leland Bohanan

tiny little ways

You can go for a long time dealing
with things in all sorts of absurd
ways. You can shut down. Act out. 
Be a whole bunch of fun. Be the
worst. Hide out. Pretend. Be 
belligerent to reality. Slap it in
the face. The list is forever. Long
like trousers. Thick like custard.
Only one day you don't want to do 
that anymore and you want to be a 
different version of you. You want 
truth as your middle name. It 
sounds good in your mouth.Every 
single one of us the same. 
We are all the same.
Just in slightly different
tiny little ways.


just about the stuff in the middle

“…I knew I was getting somewhere when I began losing interest in the beginnings and the ends of things.

Short tragic love stories that had once interested me no longer did.

What interested me was the kind of love to which the person dedicates herself for so long, she no longer remembers quite how it began.”

Ongoingness, Sarah Manguso

If We Must Die

If we must die - let it not be like hogs
Hunted and penned in an inglorious spot, 
While round us bark the mad and hungry dogs,
Making their mock at our accursed lot. 
If we must die - oh let us nobly die, 
So that our precious blood may not be shed
In vain; then even the monsters we defy 
Shall be constrained to honor us though dead! 
Oh, Kinsmen! We must meet the common foe; 
Though far outnumbered, let us show us brave, 
And for their thousand blows deal one
What though before us lies the open grave?
Like me we'll face the murderous, cowardly 
Pressed to the wall, dying, but fighting back! 

- Claude McKay

Not done yet

i'm not done yet.
in fact, i'm just getting 
started. i had goals. i had
ideas. I had so many plans
for my life. and they all
changed. over and over again.
and sometimes that's difficult.
and sometimes that's a 
challenge. but most of the 
time it's a gift.

because sometimes the place
you really needed to go in 
life was somewhere you would
have never planned on your own. 

/topher kearby

So much change. The route was nothing like I planned 
or was prepared but I think I'm beginning to exhale
- and it's coming back into focus. 
A new route. A new focus. Ever-changing. Growth.
Dear ones, it is a challenge but
hold the vision. 
trust the process.  
the gift will arrive. 

If You Should Go

Love, leave me like the light,
The gently passing day;
We would not know, but for the night,
When it has slipped away.

So many hopes have fled,
Have left me but the name
Of what they were. When love is dead,
Go thou, beloved, the same.

Go quietly; a dream
When done, should leave no trace
That it has lived, except a gleam
Across the dreamer’s face.

-Countee Cullen


Today I will praise. 
I will praise the sun
For showering its light
On this darkened vessel. 
I will praise its shine. 
Praise the way it wraps 
My skin in ultraviolet ultimatums
Demanding to be seen.
I will lift my hands in adoration 
Of how something so bright
Could be so heavy. 
I will praise the ground
That did not make feast of these bones. 
Praise the casket
That did not become a shelter for flesh.
Praise the bullets 
That called in sick to work. 
Praise the trigger
That went on vacation. 
Praise the chalk 
That did not outline a body today.
Praise the body,
For being a body and not a police report
Praise the body
For being a body and not a memory
No one wants to forget. 
Praise the memories. 
Praise the laughs and smiles
You thought had been evicted from your jawline
Praise the eyes
For seeing and still believing.
For being blinded from faith
But never losing their visions
Praise the visions. 
Praise the prophets
Who don't profit off of those visions.
Praise the heart
For housing this living room of emotions
Praise the trophy that is my name
Praise the gift that is my name. 
Praise the name that is my name
Which no one can plagiarize or gentrify
Praise the praise. 
How the throat sounds like a choir. 
The harmony in your tongue lifts
Into a song of adoration. 
Praise yourself
For being able to praise.
For waking up, 
When you had every reason not to. 

-Angelo Geter