(A while back, something terrible happened between the head and the heart. They’ve hardly spoken ever since.)

Hi, I'm Kalyn. I hope you feel at home in my words.

My first book of poems and essays entitled "High Wire Darlings" is now available. Please visit my book page for ordering info.
splendidimperfection:

Got this in the mail today. Read it cover to cover twice so far. I have never read something that reached into my soul so much as this. I cannot recommend it more.

Ahhh, this is the nicest and finding it in this moment meant so much to me. Thank you for this post.

splendidimperfection:

Got this in the mail today. Read it cover to cover twice so far. I have never read something that reached into my soul so much as this. I cannot recommend it more.

Ahhh, this is the nicest and finding it in this moment meant so much to me. Thank you for this post.

When I left for the ocean, I didn’t have an agenda except to leave. To refocus and be by myself and write. That was all. I drove and drove and arrived at that great shore ready to let the ocean engulf me, and headfirst I fell into the waves. They rushed over my head and around my body and I tumbled through them letting go. And this is what the ocean taught me. Not to fight forces greater than myself, but instead to relax into monsters that are not monsters at all. We fear these beautiful giants because we flail against their vastness and everything about them that remains a unknown to us. How could we possibly stare into something so endless, leaping up over our heads and feel calm knowing that there is life inside there that could devour us?

We fake it. We breathe in deep and part the waters with the wide strokes of our arms. We laugh and play with this mystery before us allowing it to toss us further away from shore, our comfort zone where we are completely in control. Ahh, but are we?

Sitting on shore, can we stop freak lightning storms or assure that where we sit remains safe from bombs dropped out of the sky? Even our SPF is a little laughable to the Sun’s rays. But so often, we sit there anyway feeling safer in this illusory environment where we believe that we control our surroundings.

The ocean has taught me this: I don’t want to miss my chance to get shaken by the waves only to die on the shore.

Do not whine…Do not complain. Work harder. Spend more time alone.
written by Joan Didion, Blue Nights (via heidisaman)

(via herseaofwords)

We write in darkness. We love
in alleys. We breathe into beige
paper bags. Anything to mollify
the confusion. Anything to simplify
the math.
written by Bill Yarrow, “Bees in the Eaves”  (via thatkindofwoman)

(Source: bostonpoetryslam, via thatkindofwoman)

Somebody ground me from the internet.

Support your fellow artists, Support your fellow man

Working on a kickstarter which will fund the building of a website that will help promote/support artists in various stages of their careers with a focus on artists making the transition from day-job to full-time artist.

I am so excited about this project. Please be looking out for the kickstarter!

  1. Because if we wrote the ways we’ve not yet said “I love you” and stacked them paper-thin on top of one another, they would topple over only as they were reaching Saturn.

    For instance:
    “I would watch you dance in rhythm with your heartbeat until it was too dark to see,
    and then I would read your movements like braille against my own body until the light fell on us again.”
    “Death, no, please. 67 years were not enough.”
    “Why won’t your softness leave my head?”
    “It hurts too much to look at you right now. But please stay until it doesn’t.”

  2. Because we don’t yet understand death; Don’t want to let its feelings of finality reign over us. Let me write you into story in such a way that the ink wraps its fingers around my memories and holds them there, safe from the land of forgotten faces and distant voices.

  3. To give a voice to things not spoken about enough, because they are stifled or drowned out by ignorance, apathy, dictators, cowards, the masses. Because we refuse to stop talking about sex trafficking or the fact that racism isn’t dead. People need to know that children still fight wars and religious persecution is not a thing of the past. That they didn’t ask for it, nor was it their fault. That there are papers reaching towards Saturn that were written with them in mind.

  4. To give the mind a chance to catch up to the heart. And vice versa.

  5. To do the things we do not do off paper, say the things that choke us every time we try to say them.

    For instance:
    “When I sit beside you my whole body feels electric. And I don’t know if this is an illusion that is the fault of the space we keep between us, or real fields of energy that could ignite a forest if they touched.”
    “It’s not okay. It’s not okay at all. You came so close to loving me that I ended up trusting you right before you disappeared. I say it’s okay. I say we can still be friends. It’s not okay. This is not a way to treat a beating heart.”
    To leave. Sometimes to stay.
    To take your face in my hands and kiss you.

  6. To understand.

  7. Because we’re still so far from Saturn.

-Why We Write | Kalyn RoseAnne

Hood rat/Beach rat

Hood rat/Beach rat

Let go of blame, that shit will never serve me
Bless other men, investigate your mystery
written by Nahko and Medicine for The People
kalynroseanne:

Just a reminder that my book of poems, High Wire Darlings, is available on Amazon, through the createspace e-store, and can be ordered wherever books are sold. And if you already have a copy, reviews/rating etc are ever-so-helpful to me. Thank you; love you.

kalynroseanne:

Just a reminder that my book of poems, High Wire Darlings, is available on Amazon, through the createspace e-store, and can be ordered wherever books are sold. And if you already have a copy, reviews/rating etc are ever-so-helpful to me. Thank you; love you.

Writing porches.

Writing porches.

I drove for nearly five hours today to find the shore and the ocean that lives there. Once at the beach, I almost immediately walked out into the waves and I played in them like a kid. I almost feel like this trip is the true beginning of my summer travels. I am alone here, and thinking to the week ahead I almost started feeling lonely and wishing that I had someone with me. And then I just sat on shore absorbing the blue-to-gray-to-pink of the sky and judging time by the way I felt and not a clock and suddenly I wasn’t lonely anymore. I have never been more my own and I really adore how it feels. I’m staying in a house on a couch and there are also four French men who hardly speak any English sharing the spare bedroom. But we told each other bye tonight and that was nice. I want to write more tonight. And writing is one of the bigger reasons that I came here. But what I want the most is to sleep. To just close my eyes and sink into this happy sort of contentment that I haven’t felt in, well, ages. I am so glad I learned how to leave.

I want something else. I’m not even sure what to call it anymore except I know it feels roomy and it’s drenched in sunlight and it’s weightless and I know it’s not cheap. It’s probably not even real.
written by Mark Z. Danielewski, House of Leaves (via larmoyante)

Ocean, I am coming to fall into you so soon. Please don’t forget to wash it all away so that I do not return the same.

Seeing these kids tonight and it’s going to be ridiculous.

(Source: Spotify)