Posts
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Thunder and the Boat
we're lying,
resplendent
as corpses
on the deck
of our boat,
staring into
the folds of
the universe's
moth-eaten -
Love Poem
I want to write a love poem to a volcano,
but that would involve learning to love God
and I’m not quite ready to make peace
with the war yet. I’m still fighting, still kissing, -
Existentialism
cut the string, swallow the sea, burn the boat.
I never wanted to chronicle the apocalypse.
Easter, Christ rose from the dead like a fresh
loaf of bread. the East had it right, communion -
An Unraveling
I recently came across a translation of Euripedes’s Medea by David Kocas. It felt more like an encounter really, like I'd come across Medea herself: an icon in a barren church, a window into God’s abandoned feminine half, a woman burning with grief. -
The Bus
inch worms are portals,
this one is full of golden light,
a sour smell, and a hum,
humming louder than a hive.
I climbed inside, listened
to it creak as it folded forward, -
Prayer Wheel or Capitol Hill Autonomous Zone
At the beginning of December, I found myself on Capitol Hill for a poetry reading. I had some time to spare, so I walked around the neighborhood’s green-space, Cal Anderson Park.
Loves
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Somedays- In the Style of Mary Oliver
Somedays
are made for shouting the passion of my human condition
from the rooftops.
Do not forget to wonder,
in your busy lives,
at the handsome brown spider
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going today
I’m going today
But as I pack my bags, I
Marvel at the land
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'I am' Poem
When my teachers want to celebrate diversity they try to get us to write 'I am' and 'Where I'm From' poems. This is not something I oppose, but something is lost in the prompting. For them I write the easy apple cider explanations. For you?
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summery/autumnal
summer's like / skips on a record player, pink and beat up by two moving vans and two generations of children who danced to the Bee Gees on / rugs that aren't there anymore / i have successfully wasted three mon
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In what world would I ever know my Grandmother
How can it be that I cannot exist without and with her
Sometimes I like to imagine we have the same eyes, brown with glints of green and yellow, like a sprouting garden in spring.
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A Single Sentence Letter to Our Daughters
i think i know why aliens haven't visited us. they're
definitely watching with rapt attention, waiting
to see how we climb the highest wall
humanity built for ourselves in the past