The reminders sneak up on me now. I don’t dread them the same way, yet they remain razor-sharp upon arrival.
I’m trying to type this through tears, and I’m happy to say I’m okay now. That isn’t to say that I don’t miss you terribly, especially on days like today.
But I feel you now. I couldn’t before, but I do now. At the edges of my mind, forever just out of reach.
In my heart, I know we’ve done this dance before, and we’re likely to do it again. For now, it’s the physical reassurances that I miss the most; your hands, your eyes. Your impossible spirit remains, carved from love and undeniable.
Happy Birthday, Dad. I love and miss you so much.
Best of Ways I bear witness to your innocence and for its preservation I do pray For your safety and my vigilance It breaks my heart in the best of ways The student and the teacher these are the roles we trade We are but briefly sinless creatures It breaks my heart in the best of ways At night I hope you dream of something better than what waits after childhood colors fade to grown-up gray It breaks my heart in the best of ways -Brandon White Photo by Kenzie White • A piece for all the Momma’s and Daddy’s out there; the veterans and the newly initiated. What the rest of the world is searching for, we’ve found. Love, Brandon
Photo by Brandon White
Their Eyes Beyond I drive myself crazy imagining ways to pierce the veil How the mind might be used to fold and tear the fabric of perception that one might peek through to the world beyond the wool Consider our limitations, how few colors and frequencies the mind can endure Dare we open our arms to what we can only hope to comprehend? To that which is, has been, and will be? Before you, before I, known before we knew Before the first pair of eyes set skyward, before a mind wondered; What waits for us there? Or, perhaps more importantly, who? -Brandon White
While watching ink dry on the contract for my third collection of poems, I realized how much life fits into these pages. It feels much longer than it’s been since my last offering.
I’m grateful to my publisher, @tara_caribou, for her continued support, guidance, and honesty. There’s no better feeling than knowing those you collaborate with want what’s best for you and your work.
I’m also grateful to those of you who continue to support my endeavors. Your kind words, encouragement, and inspiration are a gift.
There’s much work to be done, but this feels like a moment worth remembering.
Signed, Sealed, Delivered.
Book 3 – Spring 2023.
I’ve officially handed in the manuscript for Book 3.
There’s still work to be done, but I’m thrilled to officially be on the road to release and anxious to share the work with you.
Keep an eye on this space. I’ll be switching up my efforts to spread the word and giving sneak peeks and updates as they become available.
Become now the unwitting trigger,
the convenient symbol of a trauma
in which you had no part
Become now the beaten dog
at the mercy of validation's cruel hand;
dodging kicks, starving for love
Become now the bitter taste
that floods the mouth
at the mention of a name
Become now the last of your kind,
screaming into the nothingness
You're better when you're burning
It’s been too long, friends. I hope you enjoy this new piece. More on book #3 coming soon!
Center There's a deep dissatisfaction within me It keeps me hungry, curious; pulling my introverted self towards the world in hopes of capturing whatever may quell such a feeling Delivering me to songs, to poems wild, wide-eyed things not meant for taming Glimpses of the meeting of the needle points The elusive center from which every moment came bursting forth You and me, these two inches of infinity between -Brandon White
First Calls I haven’t thought of the first phone calls since making them three years ago Aunts and Uncles, sisters, my boss, my shaky voice delivers the message: He’s gone. It’s over. “It” being suffering, false hope We were left with shards of a life, looking them over in bewilderment until the words finally came: Where do we even begin? -Brandon White
Today is my 35th birthday, which feels like a significant number.
My thirties have been a blur of extreme change: love, loss, gratitude, self-abuse, and expression. I feel I’ve lived a lifetime in the last five years.
As this is the halfway mark to 40, what’s to come of all this change? What’s the lesson? What became of the poetry that seemed to pour from me?
Recently I came to realize that i was out of alignment. My spirit had moved forward while my mind continued to cling to the pain and poor habits I’d established over recent years.
So to meet the muse where she must be met, I’m dedicating my mind and heart to rediscovery in my 35th year. To live, fully, while there’s still light.
My third book will be my best yet. I will champion my work, I will celebrate yours, and I will know myself better than I ever have.
I love you all,
Purpose Here is something of the moment I’ve pulled from the air for you From the bone dry recesses of a mind begging to burn again with romantic ideas that this world could never live up to To pull up and out of my pessimism, not with a mouthful of self-help clichés, but led again by my own sparking curiosity Here, little birds, on the other side of unimaginable loss is what remains: The lifting of the veil, your once forgotten dreams staring back -Brandon White