Posts
-
Summer Days in the USA
In the places I have lived
I stick out like a sore thumb.
Everyone knows that I don’t belong
I’m from somewhere else across the seas
A place called the USA
summers we would go home…
-
Ode to Grandma's Zwieback
Culture is a peculiar word.
Holding such importanceIn someone’s person
Celebrated and encouraged
Songs
Art
Food
Grandma's ZwiebackLittle pockets of answers
-
The Money We Spend on Mascara
Have you ever considered the money we spend on mascara?
The thoughts we spend on our outside
I don’t want them to see that pimple there
Or I hate my color hair
-
The Girl From Everywhere
Doesn’t know what to say
The homes in her heart aren’t hers to claim
One word isn’t enough
One word shuts her up
-
At the Zoo in Kathmandu
Foreigners have to pay more
At the thick metal door.Inside we see a hippo
-
Footprints in the Snow - Sonnet
I rise and know that something new is here.
It smells of pine laughter and undefined.
Hands pressed to frosty glass outside I peer.
Its purity and peace makes me blind.
Loves
-
Gum Wrapper Heart
Even as we carry the whole world
On our backs, we
Breathe our girlhood through
Whispers and giggles at the lunch table and
Stars brushed across eyelids that have
-
A Half-Satirical Attempt At Explaining What It Feels Like to Attempt to Bargain With Time
Hey. So, it’s me. Like always. Also, it’s 12:30. I’m sure you’ll remember that, like always, I would love to be able to sleep. Maybe you’ll just give me another hour or two? See, I had things to do. Poetry. A portfolio.
-
migration
i, like many poets, have wondered a million times what it would be like to be a bird: soaring high above the trees, unburdened by life's banal worries. something primal and free.