When I was Peter Pan, Wendy, and All the Lost Boys

Thursday Poem (Audio)

In a room with a popcorn ceiling, white
and crawling with illusions, I’d breathe under the weight
of the desert-meets-air conditioner's acrid exhaust.
I had a mattress. I had stolen milk crates.

I had a record player, with a penny
weight on the arm
that ended in a single needle
and put just enough pressure to push
through the damage and access
the music that drowned
out everything else—

if I committed to it.

Today I read in an online forum that the penny trick
is ludicrous. Just buy a new record,
they say. The people who do things right
dump a milk crate’s worth of judgement.

But still, I hear, “Never Smile at a Crocodile”
on an endless replay. The song that gave me
nightmares—that taught me to escape them—
thanks to the pressure of a penny weight.

Now it’s my turn to say,

Oh, Honey… to grown-ups. You don’t understand
all the ways we care
for our things. And
all the things we can hear in a text.

The poetry I put in the world is part of a practice of hope. I invite you to write an answer poem and copy it or link to it in the chat!

A word about paid subscriptions.
(This will not appear at the bottom of every email, I promise!)

I mentioned to another poet on substack that I’m on a purchasing freeze until I’m out of debt (incurred due to complementary treatments during chemo that weren’t covered by universal health insurance). I’m not claiming poverty, but I do stick to a monthly allowance that covers coffee with friends.

This poet I exchanged emails with was incredibly kind, and offered to comp me a while, so I could take part in the benefits they offer paid subscribers.

But I thought it might be a better idea to pledge here that every subscription I get I will use to invest in another literary substack I choose. Up to 100 subscriptions, or until I am out of debt. (I’m hoping neither of those goals are a pipe dream.)

You would essentially be giving three gifts in one. I get confirmation that my writing is valued. I get access to read great, inspiring work. And another writer gets money to support their work.

I hope you’ll think about it.

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