Yellow Sweater

Yellow Sweater

WA

YWP Alumni Advisor

Posts

  • The Earth and the Sun

    I fall asleep reading about duende, reading, radiating duende. That’s what Lorca’s poetry does: it causes my grandmother’s pitched voice to tremble with a terrible softness, like the moon liquified and stored in a jar.
  • Soft Clay

    she wakes like soft clay, 
    a notion pressed onto her face 

    the morning is as blue 
    as a low-timbered evening. 

    low enough to sway to, 
    vibrations etched into cracked lips 
  • Before you jump

    Last night, I went down to the water just before it got dark. I sat on the seawall with my knees close to my chest and smelled the salt. The water was grey, but it reflected the burnished purple of the sky.
  • Dying Daisies

    what are we but dying daisies? 

    oh, holy one, one who is whole,
    leave me without petals. I'm only
    a yellow center ripe with pollen 
    that has not yet become honey. 

     
  • Propped Up Sky

    Cycling along the flat cement at sunset, we hear the frog song. It swells, candid and all-consuming. It’s like drinking plain mint tea on a bitter evening. But winter is gone now, we must find our sharpness elsewhere. 

Loves

  • Music's Breath

    Without sound, I am adrift,
    a puppet with severed strings,
    my movements hollow, my purpose lost.
    But when the music takes a breath
    it fills the empty space,
    giving weight to each movement,
    meaning to each pause.

  • To Dream

    maybe one day i'll see you

    at a class reunion 20 years in the future

    you'll have gotten taller than i am in heels

    your hair will no longer be curled and bleached but

  • Mr. Red

    There is a man on the corner of 87th and Amsterdam. I do not know him, and he does not know me. He wears a red tee-shirt with red sweatpants. He wears a red coat with red shoes. He wears a red ski mask on his face.

  • Coffee Runs

    When I was a kid, I had a near perfect childhood. I had friends on the same street as me, and we rode our bikes around the neighborhood playing cops and robbers.

  • Togetherness

    He sits 6 feet behind the sideline, wondering how the sport in front of him works. The whistle was blown and he felt a sense of togetherness. Teammates were lined up across the bench sticking out on each end by at least 3 people.

  • Glittering

    I locked eyes with him, the glowing man on the stage. 

    He glimmered, his red hair shining under the spotlight. 

    That was all it took for my heart to be stolen away.