Sweet old hound in the very last of the summer light. Working very hard to attend to beauty, not in denial of the horror of this moment, but as a reminder to stay resolute in fighting for everything good in the world.

Whatever else is true, this place was wildly beautiful. Always at home back south.

Happy Birthday, LG. Still learning from you; still watching the world the way you taught me

Sweetest surprise this morning is that the first class of grad students I ever taught sent tenure celebration flowers from across the county! Being a teacher is one of the biggest sources of grace in my life, no matter the state of the world, and these writers are magic. ❤️

Loved getting to talk about shared history, critical fabulation, the political stakes of art, and the way the past echoes into the present at @mcachicago.bsky.social yesterday! *Really* loved getting to see this woman, and remember just how much I adore Chicago! Somehow, back to Laramie by sundown.

Chicago! I couldn’t be more excited to read and be in conversation with the artist Mat Bodett this afternoon! The political stakes of art and poetry have never felt more vital, and it’s a privilege to be part of this remarkable series. If you’re here, grab a ticket and come join us!

Tenure! It's a colossal privilege to have arrived in this place, one made possible almost entirely by the enormous amount of support I've been given. Thank you so much to every person, community, and organization that has held me up and resourced my work. Screw you to every person who would...(1/2)

The highlight of AWP was— as it always and forever is— the people I love. As with every year, I remembered to take basically no photos (!) but I have never been so grateful to be seen, held, and steadied, never needed more to have so many complicated, ranging conversations or to laugh so hard:

There just really isn’t language for how much I’m going to miss this place, or how much it made me who I am. Forever, Virginia.

A🧵: When I think about the kind of educator I want to be, I always think first of my father: animated; generous; devoted; perpetually awake to the delight, grace, and revelation of language— thrilled every day to offer that to his students, and utterly delighted when it reaches them, (1/2).

Mostly, I think of myself as a person who lives alone, but the way this goof pokes his head around the door of the bathroom as if to say: “what’s going on in here!?” reminds me that, really, that’s not at all the case.

This message from Franny Choi belongs here, too. It has never been more crucial to be unequivocal on this point:

This wild, improbable little book is 8 years old! I’m grateful beyond language for the extraordinary ways it altered my life and for everything it’s taught me about both the power and the immutable limits of the informed imagination. I’m sick at the fact that its echos have never been louder. 🧵(1/5)

I’m thrilled to be in conversation with the incomparable Joy Harjo tomorrow night! It’s been so heartening, amid the turmoil of the world, to immerse myself in the generous clarity of Joy’s poems, and this will be an incredible night. If you’re in the NYC/CT area, I hope you’ll come join us!

Never prouder of this woman, or more grateful for the profound & abiding gift of our friendship than I have been lately. Today’s the closest thing she gets to a birthday on non leap years, so please enjoy this ridiculous photo & an early poem that let me know I’d love her even before we met.

Three years today with this biggest, gentlest, best of all hound dogs, who teaches me every day to attend to the littlest joys: a solid good, sweet, steady thing through all the storms. Happy homecoming day, Lion. I’m so lucky we found each other, whatever our scars and tatters.

When the world is its heaviest, I still return here.