Last Saturday, as part of a show I helped to put together called Word of Mouth, I shared a newish spoken word piece I wrote this past spring, entitled: Sorrow. There’s a chance I’ve already posted it here on my blog somewhere – but I did a quick search and didn’t see it, so I’m a-thinking perhaps not.

This particular piece sums up rather well the past year for me, in terms of some deeper inner work I’ve been doing. It was only the second time I’d shared it publicly – the first time being out of town at a spoken word gig I had up north in Kalispell in June. It felt fitting to share it with my home crew last Saturday. I’d like to share it here with all of you, as well. Here goes.



I’ve got some sorrow drippin off my tongue – I said I got some sorrow drippin off my tongue – and it ain’t no cause for alarm, it ain’t even no cause for fixin, cuz there ain’t no problem that needs correcting, I’m simply realizing I’m on a new stretch of path, re-assessing my current situation amid fresh terrain. And I’m mourning the people that I’m leavin behind. I’m mourning the comfort and security I used to find back when I was a different version of myself. So I’m lookin for comradory, from those who’ve gone before and those who can walk beside me as I forge ahead into the great unknown – and my house may be shifting but my home is within me, rockin on a solid foundation of heart, traversing in the direction of connection to all the things I deem to matter most

and I carry a sacred sorrow like a satchel slung over my shoulder like the setting sun, filled with foggy memories of the way things never were, but I know this for sure: I’m a distinct collection of everyone I’ve ever met, strewn and fastened together with time and instinct; I’m a representation of every single thing that has ever happened in an 80-block radius of Times Square even though I’ve never lived there; I’m a long drag on a cigarette that someone instantly regrets when they draw it slow to their lips; and I’m a tortured reminder of a human potential that most would prefer not to see. I make both and all genders uncomfortable equally cuz it’s few and far between the people who are able to keep up with me – and I don’t say that lightly or boasting, I say it mournfully and coasting on the same wave we’re all riding together on the ocean of breath, just one untended moment and short drop from drowning to death in the sea of all the things and people we meant to make time for and never did

and I could put a lid on all this – I could bottle it up like juice, reconstitute it and sell it back to you all sugared up, just 5% truth but that don’t seem fair to me or to you and I’d prefer to just tell it like it is without you sayin anything in return to make your own self feel better; I’d prefer you just listen like you mean it instead of waitin to speak when I’m through; and I’d prefer awkward silence over your coming up with some ill-informed notion about what you think I should do

Cuz I’m a rocket headin for the moon. I’m on the last red square and it’s my turn to flip a card to dive feet first into the double C. I’m not lookin for fanfare, glitter, or tassels to adorn my every word; I don’t want a fair-weather friend OR someone who sees life as absurd. I’m lookin for someone who can be both un-cynical and real – who can humor it out and also see the beauty all around; someone who knows full well and with heart what it means to be a lost but in order to be found; someone who won’t deplete the air in my lungs and who’ll understand this sorrow drippin off my tongue.


P.S Extra points for anyone who understands my reference: I’m on the last red square and it’s my turn to flip a card to dive feet first into the double C. Anyone want to guess what I’m referring to here? :)


To see this spoken word piece in action on stage:





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