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Tag: somethingobscure

dave specifically, memoir

memoir: fore/ward/telling

In March, I started seriously thinking about writing a memoir, and this memory is what I thought would start it, because I wanted to capture the busy softness of my life before. I wanted to start it in a way that said it was more of a love story than a horror story, but horrible things definitely happen. Continue reading memoir: fore/ward/telling

rarasaurMay 2, 2019November 12, 201926 Comments
dinosaurhearted

in lieu of errands

Before I write a poem as soft as falling snow, I want to write a note to you. I will tell you the truth. The poem will be soft as falling snow and as cold as all that, too. I will not write it from the warmth of a fireplace inside a cabin built by trusting hands. I will write it from the forest, where … Continue reading in lieu of errands

rarasaurMarch 12, 2019November 12, 201915 Comments
incarceration, long read, society

i get it

These are some prison vignettes, themed around incomplete and uncomfortable memories that swim around my head sometimes.  I guess this a trigger warning, but the topics are so varied and layered that I’m not even sure what I’m warning you about. I love you, though– so take care of you. xo,Ra There’s a knocking at my door and a head pops in. “Hey Ra, someone … Continue reading i get it

rarasaurNovember 29, 2018October 14, 201920 Comments
grief, in my head, incarceration, memoir

holding violets

I sniff words the way other people sniff flowers. Roses can be red, but not read. Violets are rarely blue, but most of us can’t say the same.   I still cry, like every awful thing that I ever lived through just happened, but also– I still laugh, like every good thing I ever witnessed just happened all over again. I’ve noticed more and more … Continue reading holding violets

rarasaurNovember 6, 2018October 14, 201923 Comments
dave specifically, grief, memoir

griefjoy

May 23, 2015 The water bottle is crinkling. Around it, conversation is soft, muted, somber– but there’s no volume control on plastic. I turn to look at the small hands holding it. He’s balanced in his mom’s arms, joyfully squeezing sounds out of the bottle. I smile at his mom, and then I make eye contact and smile at the little one. He grins, looks … Continue reading griefjoy

rarasaurMarch 4, 2018November 12, 201930 Comments
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