The secret about Vein is that she is the book I shouldn’t have written.
I shouldn’t have written her because “poets don’t make money.”
And “you won’t get famous.”
And “no one knows who you are.”
And “no one buys books anymore.”
And “poetry is cute but it’s a waste of time.”
And “poetry is too deep / heavy / complicated / pretentious / weird.”
These are just a handful of the reasons why we kill our art, our unique expression, our messy gorgeous soul stuff, before we even begin. They are the reasons society gives us to keep quiet, go numb, fit in, not even try. They are untruths we have come to believe in. They are untruths which cause good art & beautiful artists to die on the vine.
So if this sounds familiar, if you are in this place right now, please know this:
The truth about Vein, just like the truth about your creative work, is that she had to be written. She had to be written because poetry is the way my heart beats & words are my DNA. Vein is titled Vein because she was written in my blood long before I knew what “poetry” was, before these poems had names they had a pulse. Poetry is my life.
I was writing Vein in the face of all the reasons why not.
In doing so I realized that all the reasons why I “shouldn’t have” written my first beloved book of poetry were all the reasons why I knew I must.
The coolest thing people have told me about my book is that it encouraged them to write their own. And I tell them: keep writing. No matter what they tell you, I tell you this: in spite of everything, you are here to write the truth which courses through your veins. Go do.
THANK YOU for being here. It means the world to me.