Here is my video poetry reading of my poem, Shave. This one really got me as the poem poured out of me from the deepest part of myself. Thank you for reading, for watching, for encouraging me to keep diving deeper.

Read the original text of Shave here…

That’s all from me — Chris B.

This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Thank you so much for tuning into my Substack Live with Kaylie Klein! Kaylie and I talked for one hour and covered the following topics:

* Our Substack Origin Stories

* Writing Brave & the Process Behind It

* How We Found Each Other’s Work

* Kaylie’s post The Day I Chose Life

* My poem Happy Hands

* Kaylie’s post A Letter to My Dad and how it helped her heal

* Kaylie’s post When Rock Bottom Isn’t Enough, Part 2 and how it changed my own life perspective

* Kaylie’s post The Freedom I Was Chasing Wasn’t Freedom At All — and my segue into not giving a shit about the Substack Algorithm

* Kaylie reads her poem, The Last Piece of My Soul

* I read my poem, A Thousand Versions

* We talk Christmas movies, songs, and TV shows!

* Final Thoughts & Plugs

Thank you Mary Beth Kaplan🪶, Susan J Hilger, Cathey Cone, and many others for tuning into my live video with Kaylie Klein! Join me for my next live video in the app.

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Three of Kaylie’s relevant posts:

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Three of my relevant posts:

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Thats all from me — Chris B.

This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Wait, what? I just hit 1,000 Subscribers! You know what that means… a pop-up video and poem! Seriously, THANK YOU!

Here’s the text of my poem, Less Than, that I read at the end of the video.

Less Than

I will never look at you as “less than”

I will continue to follow your signs

I’ll write and pour out my tears with this pen

we’ll rewrite the playbook with new designs

~

The strength you’ve given me is “greater than”

I couldn’t imagine fighting your fights

I took so much for granted way back when

running around under yellow streetlights

~

Your burdens are way more than “equal to”

the math behind it all does not add up

I wish I could subtract all you’ve gone through

rip up the tests and give you a makeup

~

I will never look at you as “less than”

I think I can, I think I can, I can…

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Catch up on three of my recent posts!

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That’s all from me — Chris B.

This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

Happy Gratitude Week! As we head into the holiday season, I’ve been thinking a lot about family and all the amazing memories from my childhood.

One of my recent poems, Echoes of Mom’s Kitchen, was calling out to me and begging to be read. My goal with this poem is to put you right in the room with me as I run around the kitchen on a bustling late fall morning. It also happens to be the very true story of when I ate a pound of bacon because I couldn’t resist that salty crunch.

When I look back on mornings like these today — and especially this time of year — I laugh, I smile, and I tear up. That’s the thing about nostalgia that makes it so special — it wouldn’t be so sweet if there wasn’t that deep longing underneath it all…

With that said, I hope you enjoy this special pop-up poetry reading!

Thanks for reading! This post is public so feel free to share it.

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Below is the full text of the poem:

Echoes of Mom’s Kitchen

There’s a crisp in the air and on the stove

the first salty crunch awakens the beast

steam curls like smoke from a slow autumn fire

the window fogs up, framing gold leaves outside

~

As she stacks the pancakes on breakfast plates

burnt ends and crumbs fill the gaps in his teeth

she sings low while butter drips down the stack

and he laughs, half-wild, with something to hide

~

The coffee’s served hot in the big beige mug

she turns and sees the stove lost its sizzle

radio static hums between their breaths

a small truce found in the grease and the mess

~

Outside, the leaves keep falling in their time

he traces the empty gaps in his teeth

he closes his eyes and the static clears

he tastes the remnants of a salty crunch

~

He swallows the hush between heartbeats,

and the room remembers, for them both…

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That all from me — Chris B.

This Substack is reader-supported. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

I had the honor of speaking with Traci Edwards Let’s Get UnStuck on Substack Live.

First, Traci gave me an incredible introduction that was extremely gracious and humbling.

Then, Traci handed over the microphone and allowed me to give a live video poetry reading of my award-winning poem, The Believer.

From there, Traci broke down key lines from the poem and asked me about the weight of caregiving, the breaking points that shaped me, and what strength means to me today.

I also went on a rant about insurance companies and even got a little snarky!

During our chat, Traci shared her own insights and reflections on seeing her dad care for her mom when she was younger, and how that shaped her.

We talked for one hour that felt like it was five minutes, and I think I set the record for how many times Traci teared up during one episode!

All kidding aside, Traci, thanks for your empathy, your graciousness, and for a conversation that means more to me than you know.

Thank you Kaylie Klein, Erin Gregory, Rey Pacheco, Eladio Matos, JP Bristol, and many others for tuning into my live video with Let’s Get UnStuck! Join me for my next live video in the app.

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I was blessed to be a guest on Erin Gregory’s podcast Notes from the Messy Middle. Erin, you did what any great host and storyteller does — you made me feel right at home, as if we were talking over coffee and opening up about our lives. Thank you so much Erin for the chat, next round is on me! ☕️🎙️🙌💪

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Here’s my original post of The Believer…

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That’s all from me — Chris B.

Arrows

548 days ago

your heart rate dropped way down below.

~

For 28 days we prayed and watched you go

from your final breath to the car ride home.

~

548 days have passed

since the ambulance took you out of class.

~

7 nights we couldn’t sleep as you slept,

I can’t imagine your fight as we wept.

~

Hooked to feeding tubes

and BiPAP machines,

we made damn well sure

doctors didn’t write off your dreams.

~

On the 541st day,

you sat up and told us you’d be okay.

~

That sun-kissed morning you caught your breath,

just when I thought I had nothing left.

~

548 days ago

everything inside you began to slow.

~

But little did they know

what I know right here and now:

Let them shoot their crossbows,

you’ll catch and throw their arrows...

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I am so excited about this you have no idea! I am teaming up with Jeannie Ewing to host a 90-Minute Journaling Workshop for Caregivers!

Date: Tuesday, Jan. 20, 2026, 6:30-8 pm ET*

*Registration includes lifetime access to this recording, even if you can’t make the live session. We felt this was important because Jeannie and I know that caregiver schedules and responsibilities can fluctuate.

What’s Included:

—90-minute recorded session

—Downloadable journaling workbook featuring prompts and poems*

—Lifetime access to recording + resources

—Cost: $40 per participant

*Between Jeannie’s honest reflections as a Mom of 5 and my raw poems as Bray Bray’s Dad, as well as the prompts included, I can’t wait for you to see this workbook!

Why Did We Team Up?

Jeannie and I first connected on right here on Substack and instantly bonded over our caregiving journeys — she’s a mom of five, including her daughter Sarah, and I’ve walked my own path raising Bray Bray. Together, we’re creating a space for caregivers to slow down, connect, and express themselves through writing. Using guided prompts and creative reflection, we’ll explore how journaling can help you process the ups and downs of caregiving — from growth and gratitude to frustration and grief, and everything in between.

Whether you are taking care of an aging parent, running around all day with the family, or raising kids like Sarah and Bray Bray, we’ve designed this workshop to gently guide you through shared experiences, prompts, and discussions.

Why Does This Mean So Much To Me?

When I first joined Substack in August, I just felt it in my bones that it was time to share Bray Bray’s warrior journey with the world. He has always been a shining light for us, and it was time to share his light with others. Today, I remain so humbled by everyone’s support.

What I also wanted to do was lend my voice to other caregivers who feel so weighed down by the daily grind. Because I’ve been there, and it’s hard. And I know what it’s like to feel stuck, or tired, or frustrated. And I also know that writing has helped me get through it all.

This workshop is about giving other caregivers the time, and the tools, to be able to use the writing process for unfiltered emotional release. It’s not about what is being written, as much as it’s about creating an outlet for human expression.

I hope you decide to join us on Jan. 20! Registration is open now at https://www.jeannieewing.com/live-workshops

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That’s all from me — Chris B.

We came, we saw, we stuck it to gatekeepers, and we sung the praises of saying yes to our midlife Gen X selves!

Thank you Lynn J. Broderick, Let’s Get UnStuck, Jim Katzaman, Eladio Matos, Eric Miller, and many others for tuning into my live video with Heidi Bonner! Join me for my next live video in the app.

Editor’s Note: The video is actually 43 minutes, a few minutes were added to the end because everyone loves a 5-minute post-show pause for reflection!

Thank you to everyone who joined us for our Substack Live!

Thank you Anette Pieper, David Watson, Ruth O'Reilly, Katrin, David Rizzo, and many others for tuning into my live video with Joe Nichols! Join me for my next live video in the app.