Posts
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i beg of you
this is not a poem.
this is not a song.
this is not metaphor, a sonnet, an ode, not a ballad, a rant, not even a dream–
this is a plea.
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battle wounds
oh, how hard it is to watch them
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Loves
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Mundane
a lesbian couple on my bus home from school
a man in a punk battle jacket on the street
my mother's female CEO group chat blowing up
four of my teachers taking the following day off
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Love is a Food?
Maybe,
like steak,
it needs to marinate.
Maybe,
like soup,
it needs to simmer.
Or, maybe,
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Vermont's World Tree
I’ve seen a million sunsets and sunrises, yet each day still dawns with new surprises. As the sun peaks its golden rays over the green mountains, Vermont’s future stretches out with new horizons.
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eclipse
the moon's silvery-gray hair
falls in shadows across her face
her pupils waxing and waning
straining
to catch a glimpse of her girl,
her beauty, her sunshine
her pale lips remembering cinnamon warmth
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a year ago today, i wrote a poem,
and i remember i was really proud of it.
hung it up on my wall and everything when it made the newspaper.
a year ago today, i took the grey-brown frown of november
and molded it into metaphors with my own two hands. looking -
instructions on growing up
If you wrap your hand around your mother's wrist
your fingers will touch. How
do you come to terms with that? How
do you learn that your father's shoulders