
Sometimes the most powerful collections are born not from careful planning, but from necessity. "Dive Bars & Empty Glasses" emerged this way, finding its own path to existence while I was working on an entirely different project. I had been compiling poems for what I thought would be my first collection, "Counting Dandelions" (which would later become "Captured Moments" at my mother's suggestion). But as I sorted through my work, certain poems stood apart – like splinters rising painfully from what I was trying to create.
These poems felt different. Heavy. Urgent. They carried the weight of darker times, mostly drawn from an earlier period in my life when I was grappling with questions, I wasn't yet ready to answer. While I was still not out at the time of publishing "Dive Bars & Empty Glasses," some of the poems in this collection held hidden depths that would only become fully apparent to readers later, after I had embraced my true identity as a transwoman.
Looking back now, I can see how the struggles with depression, despair, and sadness documented in these poems were inextricably linked to my battles with dysphoria and self-acceptance. The collection offers subtle hints of this underlying truth – breadcrumbs that some readers would later follow to deeper understanding. But at the time of writing, these poems simply needed to exist as raw expressions of pain, loss, and the desperate search for hope.
The collection deals unflinchingly with addiction, loss, sadness, despair, and suicide – not to glorify these experiences, but to acknowledge their reality in many people's lives. I chose to approach these subjects openly, honestly, and without judgement because I believe that's what so many people struggling with these issues need most - a space where they can feel seen and understood without being condemned.
As an activist, I recognize that breaking the silence around mental health and addiction is a necessary part of healing our world. It's not enough to simply describe the darkness – we must also offer pathways to light.
In many ways, "Dive Bars & Empty Glasses" was an unintentional approach to the intersection of personal truth and mental health advocacy. While the full context of my own struggles wouldn't become public until later, these poems offered a bridge of empathy to anyone wrestling with their own demons, whatever form they might take. They serve as a reminder that no mistake is unforgivable, no struggle is shameful, and no one is ever truly alone.
The collection's emergence from the process of creating a different book feels symbolic now – much like my own identity emerged gradually from years of trying to fit myself into spaces that weren't quite right. My mother recommended against publishing this collection as my first foray into authorship, but these poems demanded to be heard in their own time, in their own way, carrying messages that would resonate differently with readers as both they and I evolved.
Over the years I’ve heard from several readers how this collection not only spoke to them, but made them feel seen, less alone, and gave them hope that they too would survive. Each of their messages was a validation that I was not alone either and that my words were needed in the world.
Today, "Dive Bars & Empty Glasses" stands as both a time capsule and a living document. For some readers, it remains a raw exploration of universal human struggles with depression, addiction, and despair. For others, particularly those who came to it after my coming out, it offers additional layers of meaning – subtle echoes of what was to come. But for all readers, I hope it continues to serve its primary purpose - to provide a space where difficult truths can be spoken, where pain can be acknowledged, and where hope remains possible even in the darkest moments.
You can purchase Shooting Stars and Origami Swans at your favorite bookseller.
My collections available on Amazon
Shooting Stars and Origami Swans
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