My work as a writer is aimed at truth which, like a song, cannot be contained.
Read MoreWhen reporters ask for the secret, you are good at hedging: hard work is a sweet way to say obsession. Pathology is prettier when masked in music.
Read MoreElegy can be messy. Elegy is sometimes unhappy with itself, too. Elegy is regrinding the lens again & again & again. Elegy is a reconstruction of joy.
Read MoreElegy is birthed from such discomfort, a speaker navigating a world that hurts precisely because of its horrible resemblance to the one left behind.
Read MoreElegy is the séance we hold as we pray for a visitation from the ones we have lost. We invite them to haunt us. We sing to them, and listen for song in return.
Read MoreI was praying the only way I knew how. I was trying to build a boat, to take me through the waves of grief on your street, right up to your door.
Read MoreThis collection was born out of the search for something bigger than the silence & static. On Friday, I think we came close to finding it.
Read MoreI am at a point in my life where the question most on my mind isn’t what am I asking from a place, but rather what I owe a place I have made a home.
Read MoreBy 2020, Waiting for Frank Ocean in Cairo had become a kind of phantom; a project that haunted me, yet whose future seemed illusive.
Read MoreWhen a poem reaches its most potent limits, I consider it reaching into the state of song.
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