All posts tagged: Ross Gay

where you are planted / bloom

I was a little tipsy on the dance of the velvety heart rolling in my mouth I was dumb-tipsy on the day. Connie and I didn’t know it yet, but walking first into Wave Hill’s Sunroom before lounging in all of it’s unabashed green was a high-five moment. We actually high-fived each other. I am writing about a summer day, nearing Winter, because of the chicken pot pie I had during this visit (I’ll get there soon). Anyway, if you know anything about my love of playing Skyrim (in which I live through my character who hand picks her flowers and shrooms for alchemical, kick-ass purposes), then you may begin to understand my excitement when I found this station of roots and flowers: That’s Connie, not hiding HER excitement whatsoever. What is there not to love about a hands-on, minds-off exhibition? There were bowls full of chrysanthemums, damiana leaves, angelica root, hops, lavender, rose buds, hibiscus and mugwort root. We were to take a mortar and pestle, fill it with whatever we chose from the bowls, …

cherry bourbon brownies and unabashed gratitude

This is how you enter July after a hellish June. You say Yes to whatever opportunity comes your way. You talk poetry with a stranger, with a friend, with new friends. On your way home, you think: brownies. But you don’t stop at thought. You run off the Q25 the second you see a grocery store and you BUY the stuff that’ll turn thought into chewy goodness and then you BAKE IT. In between that will be the sort of rain an umbrella can’t do anything about, and you won’t care. Storm your way into July 2nd, into tomorrow, into next hour. Except, your husky cherry tomatoes and various herbs need protection, so you run out to move the containers, then run back in, feeling all heroic and shit. Look at the way the storm leaves a sign that it has passed. They all do. They pass. It’s best you remember that the next time it pours. While brainstorming writing prompts for a Newtown Literary event at the Latimer House with Steph, I asked the caretaker, Joel, about …