it might be 2020, but it's still winter
i had an entire pseudo-essay about signs. the way we interpret them. the power we give them. but i think the magic of signs happens when we let them be. when we are quiet enough, listening closely, we hear them for what they really are.
for a while, caterpillars kept falling into my room when i’d open the window. i’m not proud of it, but caterpillars bring out my squeamish side: their plump & wriggling bodies; their alien ability to stick to surfaces.
at it’s best, their sudden appearance in my room was a signifier of change & growth. a reminder to face that which makes me uncomfortable. at my worst, they took on the energy of an omen.
i can give signs too much power. signs allow me the clarity to see what’s really going on underneath the surface. poems are signs. signs are for re-calibrating. signs allow the everyday to become significant — it’s what compels me to make things.
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F6b0053dc-10ea-4909-92ee-9e96f355501a_1600x1200.jpeg)
two albums for opening up to the signs
try by faith healer
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2F7f56ed3f-ac54-4e07-a057-dfc4fb0e6162_341x341.jpeg)
sounds like: driving home from a dip in the lake by yourself all sleepy from the sun in your best meditative summer state. a love child between paul revere and the raiders & HAIM.
start with:
the more forcefully i approach things, the more confused they become. just gotta surrender to the present. easier said than done.
it can be hard to let it happen
somebody's always in the room
the room is not how you remembered
memories never come on cue
marigold by pinegrove
![](https://substackcdn.com/image/fetch/w_1456,c_limit,f_auto,q_auto:good,fl_progressive:steep/https%3A%2F%2Fbucketeer-e05bbc84-baa3-437e-9518-adb32be77984.s3.amazonaws.com%2Fpublic%2Fimages%2Fb100702b-4f13-4995-b578-ee96250923cb_341x341.jpeg)
sounds like: you’ve been alone in your room with your thoughts for too long; you’ve had too much coffee; a circle in the sky shudders & disbands — reveals itself to be birds; relief. all your wildest emo-alt-country dreams. a lap steel tuned to your deepest feelings.
start with:
more surrendering to the present. the good, the bad. it comes & goes. a flickering candle in the dark.
but it's an honor to feel this way
to feel the color of the longest day
'cause it's a shadow that many know
and, well, it's feeling pretty bad to me
but I don't think it goes on endlessly
i can’t talk about signs without acknowledging the depths of winter, the new year. i keep hearing “2020: the year of clarity.” here’s hoping. here’s a poem i wrote with that feeling behind it.
consider donating to the Unist’ot’en Camp
solidarity with indigenous folks fighting for the land & their rights is crucial to finding the right solutions for this hurting world. you can read an overview here and more about the camp specifically here.