Marni Fraser 7/6/26 Marni Fraser 7/6/26

Love Letter to Earth-Bound Creatives

Do not fear their reaction to you. It is not worth folding yourself into something so small that you fail to exist. Find the other strange ones who are still trying. Then go home, close the door, and return to your works and love.

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Reiteration

I’m returning my hours to them.

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FREEDOM

Freedom won by turning the mirror

to watch the thing behind me—

to finally walk into its own proportions,

survive its own weather,

wear its impossible shape—

and all without my hands to fix it.

Marni Fraser 7/1/26 Marni Fraser 7/1/26

Small Update

Life is short. Most people are understandably focused on their own lives, goals, and priorities.

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TO BIND TO FINISH

So the water holds it all,

So the working does not fall,

Sealed by hand and sealed by art,

Sealed by what came from my part.

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Vanishing

A white vessel split upon the dark,

its flawless halves made sacred

only after the fracture.

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Poem: Anyway

Tin stars.
Empty bottles.

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Poem: The Night Falls

when the promised dawn

forgets how to come

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Part Two: The Weight of Accumulated Silence

Likability was never a reliable measure of goodness. It was sometimes simply nothing more than a sign of how much had been suppressed. What becomes possible, slowly, is disappointing others without disappearing in the process.

Marni Fraser 6/17/26 Marni Fraser 6/17/26

The Courage to Be Unlikable

Releasing the need for approval requires allowing others their disappointment, risking being misread, accepting that integrity may cost belonging. It doesn't reject connection. It denies the hidden contracts of self-denial that connections sometimes ask for.

Marni Fraser 6/16/26 Marni Fraser 6/16/26

ESSAY: Manners

Manners are evidence that we understand we are not the only ones here.

Marni Fraser 6/12/26 Marni Fraser 6/12/26

Poem: Hidden In Light

to hold vertical lines

while something at the center branches,

and keeps deciding,

and keeps asking which way,

and it knows where the light comes from.

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POEM: Here I Am

And remaining light is its own gravity—

a joy in knowing the price of joy,

that hums this low and stubborn note

from the low and stubborn cellar

of the low and stubborn still-alive—

it’s the way a string keeps singing

after the hand and stick have lifted.

Marni Fraser 6/12/26 Marni Fraser 6/12/26

ESSAY: The Human Body

No textbook prepared me for the colors, and no drawing prepared me for the forms. What struck me first was not death. It was beauty— I was not prepared for that either.