This the Common Air That Bathes Us

That’s what she said.

That’s what he said.

That’s what she, he, you, me, we said.

Said it to each other

Said it across long distance phone calls

and short distance pillow talks.

Said it to the mirror,

probably not often enough.

Said it to dogs in high-pitched voices,

and, in face licks and tail wags,

definitely had it returned

in ways other than words.

Said it on accident.

Said it too soon.

Said it too late.

Said it amidst arguments

that were never worth having.

Said it during love making

which was definitely worth having.

Said it to unborn children

Said it quietly over the graves of those now gone.

Said it to our parents

Said it to our parents exponentially more frequently

when we were low on cash.

Said it to the sky.

Said it to the stars.

Said it late at night

to new friends in old bars.

Said it in too many languages to count.

Said it soft,

then said it loud,

then said it louder,

and when it still wasn’t said loud enough

we created a Facebook event page

and invited everyone

so that we could all set our clocks just right

and simultaneously say it at the same time,

and after we did,

the earth grew a little quieter,

see, somehow we all collectively decided,

that anything that was ever worth saying,

had already been said.

I love you.


 

In Your Hands

She’s a local Las Vegas artist and really nice, I can listen to this song all day…

When You Get the Rejection Letter

Rejections, after Lauren Elma Frament

 

In a year of taking a break from submitting, I almost forgot how tedious sending your work to publications can be. You put blood, sweat and tears in revising your work to death before sending it out, and boom! You get the big “no”.

Sending my pieces to lit. journals had come in small blessings, usually unexpected. There were times my pieces fitted the theme of the journal and I got the boot. There were times I would cry and question if I should write at all, some I didn’t care.

Which is to say, you shouldn’t question whether you’re a good writer or not, there’s plenty of journals worldwide. It’s one of the scenarios where you have to push yourself. It’s not going to be easy–it’s really frustrating to be honest, but it’s part of the journey being a writer.

 

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I’m a womanist first

and a feminist second.

—  Bee Polard

My depression
sleeps soundly
at the foot of
my gender.

— Joshua Jennifer Espinoza, Pray the Gay Away

If you are friends with a person

who is racist, sexist, an abuser, etc

and you don’t act because that’s ya friend.

You are violent.

— @poetnoire, #cupsi17

The camera makes everyone a tourist in

other people’s reality, and eventually in one’s own.

— Susan Sontag

 

They’ll never know

what they missed if they

have a place to come back to.

― Day Sibley

The poet is a liar who always speaks the truth.

― Jean Cocteau

New Beginnings

Hey everybody,

I know it’s been a while since I’ve posted anything but a lot has been changing for me; with school, my job and who I surround myself in my space. As you get older there are some old ways, you abandon, that is one of the beautiful things about growing as a person. No, I won’t ever diminish what happened in my past, but that doesn’t mean I can’t move on from it. It made me who I am as an individual and I can only hope to be better.

For starters, one of my best friends and I will be working on a written project, so I can’t wait for you guys to read it. Also, I’ll be going by Day Sibley now. I have been debating the [pen] name for a while now, I feel like I’m coming into my own and so is my work. It’s kind of hard to explain, but in the meantime, I’ll definitely keep you posted on my new works.

sincerely,

Day Sibley