Let’s not travel to tick things off lists, or collect half-hearted semi-treasures to be placed in dusty drawers in empty rooms. Rather, we’ll travel … - Victoria Erickson

I see you standing there with a mouthful of poetry yet a head full of doubt. You are sharp yet softening while needing to be split open and poured out.

How to be weightless: Set fire to the clutter. Infuse boundaries. Allow music to linger long after it’s been felt. Soften. Rip old strings. Find sanctuaries. Touch thresholds. Soak in water. Know your rhythms. Read the words. Become the very poem itself.

I wanted to ask you about your vision of perfection in an imperfect world, or what side of the earth calls out to you when you touch a physical globe, or maybe about your greatest heartache and how you still go on as your world continues turning, or what you do with a memory once lodged inside your bones that;s still breathing, and burning. But you're still a stranger, and I'm overly polite, so I'll ask all about your day when I'd rather know about your life.