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journal untouched, books open. mind amuck. oil changed. bathroom cleaned. hands aching. heart wanting to be close to the dirt. body yearns for thicket. deer paths preoccupying thoughts. 

how does the first deer choose new? is it a choice? or is their body simply pulled by the growth around them. tree branches pointing this way and that. soft ground here, harder ground there. 

which one is this deer used to? 

i wonder if the trees are scared too. by @mehansplace
0
a month ago
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monday september 7th, 2026 11:32am
sleep heavy and quiet. first winter’s snow.

eyes briefly catching parking lot before hand grasping cheek to pull face towards moon. eclipsing again. by @mehansplace
11
a month ago
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lightning photograph flash memorializing window pane and girl in apartment bedroom. paused here now in wet film sill caked white landlord paint. second flash, this time eyelids closing. moment held between pupil and synapse from months ago. half a bed. half in. half out. now unsure if grabbing the door handle or if already through it. by @mehansplace
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a month ago
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seeing the dunes again after a decade without them. remembering long drives through michigan to grand lakes. first time pedaling a two wheeled bike down a yogi bear campground hill. now watching nephew learning to use a bike in a different campground. hearing stories of first dates at sand dunes with stepped-on beehives prompting half-clothed running away. eating smash burgers. dune buggy stalling. brake lines breaking then being repaired. lake michigan still feeling the same when its water reached my knees sooner. less dune buggies, more 4x4’s. more people flipping. more campers with built out decks and patio furniture, less tents.

nostalgia found in sunset on drive in. light pushing away clouds like hair from eyes. even the sun wants to see it—all of us on this big rock. and i sat and cried about the uncertainty and the gratefulness. then i played fontaines d.c. and car disappeared between tree lines and cement.

now leaving, again. curious about our need for nature but our fear of ever being fully in it. needing “toys” to explore it, when we have hands and feet. by @mehansplace
2
2 months ago
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mostly detroit.

i love all of you. by @mehansplace
15
2 months ago
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i look around and we are all consumed by profit margins.

how much does a life weigh on that scale? by @mehansplace
0
2 months ago
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those fucking irises

(instagram deleted the journal entries and i am too lazy to reread all that) by @mehansplace
1
2 months ago
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friday june 19th 2026 10:42 pm
hammock is mother arm’s. rocking. i feel small again.

i wonder if my teeth gleam in the street light.

if you confess everything no one can hold it against you.

i remember it in shadows and scents. how at 3pm on a neighborhood street you are hit with the aroma of lotion known only by your mother.

silence. the kind that sits between the trees in the forest and the grass in the prairie. the kind that sits between hands in prayer. that hollowness taking up space from front door to snow cloaked ground. the kind that reverberates an echo. when your voice traveled back it didn’t sound like you—perhaps because the veil was dropping. beneath it: boy.

the room felt crowded. as if every thought brought them in. ghosts loitered. i understand the graveyard you’ve been stuck in. hands fumbling between tombstones and freshly piled earth. digging. trying to resurrect. fingers never finding anything to grasp but worms and rotting flowers.

i think of things i dare not to write to avoid even the page from knowing. by @mehansplace
2
3 months ago
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thursday june 25th 2026 11:11pm
i feel my body’s unrest. dog stirring as thunder breaks just beyond the horizon. field electric trampoline. 

sunday july 5th 2026 11:35am
flowers turning upward. water cutting heat and thirst. i, relating too much to, the flower. 

knees bumping swings just jumped from. hollowed movement of a body forced by laws of physics. 

i don’t want to hold onto things forever. i enjoy losing. enjoy the loss. pieces of me moving beyond body, carried to another then away. maybe that is where dreams are born—in the parts that stay with them which bare witness.

do you believe in magic? how much is lost in laws and theories? what is missing in deduction? by @mehansplace
2
3 months ago
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sunday may 31st 2026 11:18am
i go to the dam and stand at the side of it. drunkenness is spread out wide. it is hard to decide what to stare at. moon reflecting on water broken into thousands of light refractions that turn on and off with each ripple or white rush of fall and breakage. i go between then i runaway again.

monday may 25th 2026 2:19pm
there are bugs crawling on the tips of blade. what is truth to them?

do we seek to live more like the bug or beyond it? separate ourselves entirely different from the natural. 

perhaps that is all there is to do—reach with open hands and let it all slip through.

tuesday may 26th 2026 9:40pm
phase of moon pouring down and in. big dipper hanging mobile. so vast and low if i had thought to grasp it i might have.

the trance found me again in the river. the seduction of that whitely rock and dooming damnation of the dark trees beyond it. city small and squishable. minor blimp. river unbound and relentless. me suspended between it all.

tuesday may 19th 2026 9:47pm
a peering. contemplative. an idea or perception i’ll never know. something only for him. it feels soft. the way the landscape appears behind cotton on clothesline during the sinking of the sun in mid evening hours. a flash of familiarity. of unnamable memory. by @mehansplace
0
4 months ago
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sunday june 21st 2026 4:17pm
bus and train transfers. hum of metal on metal. sliding past. moving to not think. anxiety settling like pollen. sticking. the more i wipe the more it covers me. clinging. child’s hand gripped fiercely. belt buckle during the roll. body suspended from it, not wanting the release into the abyss. 

people pass through me. skin moving through tall grass. i itch after the blades have left. a several bumped rash the only reminder. i get confused between memory and dream. i forget whether the stare was soft or indifferent. whether the house was gray or blue. whether lips ever met or stopped halfway toward. i don’t remember childhood, but i can recall the crunch of sand catching on teeth from wind flowing over dune. know those red cheeks and spit collecting on corners that i had wished would pull upwards. wolf jaw snapping. animal that sometimes responds to father. wolf that, at full moon, becomes boy, then responding to son. then wanting to be held.

full moon is never lunar but optical.

tuesday june 23rd 2026 12:18am
pretending the cotton stretches like arms and holds like hands.

he drops it all at once. shaking as the words reverberate back to him. table large gorge. does the voice sound like him on return?

i look at the moth that has taken refuge on the porch column. i surrender with it.

tuesday june 23rd 2026 10:50pm
yesterday dark and muggy. pretending tears were merely water droplets suspended in summers heat. the night was cool and dry. droplets now dew clinging to grass i squash beneath loafers as i cut beyond sidewalks.

i circle. dog with tail in-between canines.  grabbing, releasing, running, then gnawing again. if i am lucky, i get caught up in the chase of another’s.

how i want to pour. open window slamming bedroom doors. water shaking pane swelling everything that can hold. vegetation outstretched and willing. darkening. 

i like the sun because it reveals and destroys. i opened my arms wide in that parking lot. laid upon a cross, i reached wider. wider than they could pin me. by @mehansplace
4
4 months ago
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omg i love the smiths! taken in Pine Knob Music Theatre by @mehansplace
3
4 months ago
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