Feb 23


This is an "Acrostic Sonnet," a form of sonnet I learned from a friend of mine.

She planted a tree in silvery light
Hands pressing old soil as she shivered
Error marked the breeze of her lonely rite
Lauding what steady chant she delivered
Even the earliest of my instincts
Fade from Athena’s grasp in surrender
Torn to forget, barely born when she sinks
Tender arboress raped for her splendor
Heiress of air and the clouds and the sky
Engulf me in your woven birds’ nest hair
What walnut features knotted hands imply
In your laughter my memories ensnare
Nurture her planted tree rusting to brown
Denying not her tears nor scars nor crown
Jul 27

Angry at Myself

When I'm afraid that I will get angry at myself for something,
I avoid it.

You see,
I don't like being angry at myself
So when I am angry at myself
About something I haven't done yet
Or am not doing,

I do other things.

A crossword puzzle
Eat some food
Check my email
Reread the instructions for the forms I should be filling out
Watch Netflix

Because I hate being angry at myself
For things I know I should have done
Or should be doing
In the sense of
Things I quite truly, really ought to be doing
Not just those "should"s that we feel pressure from despite their lack of reasonable source.
They're the should's like writing letters to my grandparents
Cleaning my room
Merely logging on to YWP
Starting college placement exams
Clearing my dishes from dinner
Responding to that text from last week.
Jun 23

Una Carta Cada Mes (A Letter Every Month)

Proud to Be

I wrote it on a flag.
His flag that flew from here to Florida and then home
With him.
I will miss you more than I even know yet,
I wrote.
 My blue permanent maker letters
Bled into the white nylon stripes.
Yes, I filled two of them;
Wordiness runs in my genes, in my ink,
And apparently on nylon, too.

I skipped the red stripe so that my message matched everyone else's.
But still, it didn't
May 24

Two ukiaH I Found Today

Back then, before I knew you        
The sky was brighter                      
Frogs hummed louder in the night.
{ } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { } ~ { }
Addressed to a silent one       
With lobes small, folds great   
Do you feel their infrasounds?
May 20

Quadratic Formula Poem

Quadratic Formula Poem

X marks the spot,
If you pessimistically encounter a bee,
You should contribute something to it’s existence,
Or, perhaps,
Take the same something.

I’ve heard,
You know,
That bees,
On their birthdaays,
Appreciate a gift that is square in shape,
But rooted in thoughtfulness.

A gift containing bubbles or bobbles or babbles or blubber,
Nibbles or cobbles or pebbles or rubber,
From which you have removed a quadruplet of aces.
My dear friends,
Is how to cover your bases.

Enter every best-birthday-gift-for-a-bee competition.
I promise,
You’ll be boasting first places.

Author's note: the spelling of "birthdaay" is intentional
Dec 19


Sometimes I fear that others don't need me
The same way I need them.

They don't
breathe the gentle space of conversation.
They don't... pursue the overcrowded couch, a reunion of overlapping knees and adjacent thighs, to rekindle their flickering flame.
They don't
jokingly say that they were born into the wrong culture in a not-so-joking way, because their chest aches for good friend hugs, more frequent piggy backs, and heads on shoulders in the dark.
They don't
Dec 17

Everyone's Six-Word Stories: COW 2017

Here are all of the Six-Word Stories written collectively by the writers who attended YWP's Celebration of Writing (COW) on November 11th, 2017 at Vermont College of Fine Arts in Burlington.

As I said with the exquisite corpse stories, these make great prompts, so feel free write off of them!

Again, I am including photos with several of the stories. I created another interactive story explorer contraption. Click on those words or find it here: https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1W0rb7EmGgK3eJGMinGLHSx8p2Hded4zFp7J41urf5pU/edit?usp=sharing



I truly know nothing at all.
Showing [Snowing?] outside and in my soul.

Everyone's Exquisite Corpse Stories: COW 2017

These are all of the Exquisite Corpse Stories written collectively by the writers who attended YWP's Celebration of Writing (COW) on November 11th, 2017 at Vermont College of Fine Arts in Burlington.

I highly encourage you to use these stories as prompts and finish them or write building off of them.

Because so much is lost in the translation of handwriting to typed text, I have included photographs of several of the stories and created what I call an interactive story explorer contraption. I encourage you to visit it and explore these stories as they are arranged on the paper.
Dec 14

Peace and Rage

There are pieces of peace scattered across the hills,
thrown in corners with abandoned spider webs
and forgotten for decades.

Those pieces of peace do not deteriorate.
They only wait.

Observant eyes and carefully attuned ears can pick them out,
track them down,
gently pick them up
and blow the cobwebs away.
Returning happiness, laughter,
sunlight, trees,
companions to the world.

Peace reincarnated piece by piece.

Rage is red like a ruby.
It burns through everything in its way,
trailing hot coals and lifeless ashes in its wake.

Four letters are weighed down by so much emotion.
   Clenched fists/  gritted teeth/  furrowed brows/  tight face.
Rage bubbles up inside me
like water boiling over the edges of the pot,
spilling and leaping from its rim, to fizz,
hiss and spit
on the burner below.