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He Existed

Dear Scarlett, I know you had a hard day yesterday.Sitting in a courtroom, facing the man who claimed you never lost your little boy. The man who preached that the Sandy Hook shooting was a hoax. The man who’s been feeding lies to vulnerable people

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Ride

what carries me

Other People Suck

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my time reading news online, it’s that other people suck. I mean, let me tell you about my day so far. I was
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A Single Moment

The small boy watches his dad on the makeshift stage, tucked in a sprawling backyard that backs to the coastal mountains of San Diego. A toy guitar is slung by
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Liberty Model

My eyes settle on a plexiglass case in the corner of the living room, and trace the contours of the weathered trumpet inside until they rest on the words Liberty
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Bullet

Awhile back, I wrote a song for my friend Scarlett, who lost her son Jesse in the massacre at Sandy Hook.  The story is told from the perspective of the
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The Butterfly

The butterfly won’t move from my hand. She’s supposed to fly away into the flower fields behind the stage, a symbol of release for the people who’ve gathered here to
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Finding Beautiful

I went on a journey of finding beautiful. I turned over stones and looked behind trees and searched dark caverns. I dove deep layers of ocean and crawled low desert
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