May 02

across fragile land

i don’t have the words to tell you
about the cacophony of
feelings that tiptoe to me
in the rain,
in the dark,
in between the pages of books. 
i’m a writer so i should know
how to talk about feelings by now-
almost all of my poems are about sadness
and stress,
but sometimes i still struggle to paint
words into constellations
that will make sense to you.
i have secrets buried deep,
but i didn’t keep the treasure maps.
i’m not sure when the boardwalk was built
above my little nests of unspoken words
and stories,
but now i walk,
gently, bare feet
brushing against the sandpapered wood.
i walk along the boardwalk of my heart,
i feed quarters of self-doubt into
tourist telescopes
and watch memories appear
in the binocular hollows.
i sit on a rusted bench,
i’ve forgotten what i’m waiting for but
May 02

Line Break, Episode 8

Apr 26

prayers to an unknown recipient

sending messages into space:
i’m not used to potion-ing
feelings, but lately
the only signs you
leave are recipes
for love, revenge, hope,
and better skin.
i’m not sure who you are,
but when my name
appears on envelopes
(stamped with ink from
other continents),
there is never a return address.
covered in glitter,
i ask you to
please tell me why
we love so tenaciously.
i forget when i’ve been hurt
because it’s complicated
and you might fix it
without having to know what’s
i depend on you to keep me happy,
keep me from turning inward,
reflecting on my real thoughts
and not the ‘pretty’ thoughts
or the ‘prayer’ thoughts
or the thoughts i think
i should have because
it would make sense
and be easy.
i ask you now,
lying on broken glass
from my wrongdoings,
Apr 26

like, as a hobby?

 if i wasn’t a writer,
there would be smashed glass
all over the wood floors.
i would carry a bat and
a pocketknife
and swing my arms as fast
as possible at the most breakable
if i wasn’t a writer,
i would scream at the neighbors
because they don’t understand my problems
and i just want people to know how i feel.
if i wasn’t a writer,
i would tattoo your name all over my body
and trace over the ink
with my fingertips because that’s
the most destructive thing i can do
without saying i love you.
if i wasn’t a writer,
i would wear shoes that don’t fit me
because that’s edgy
and being edgy is dangerous
and apparently i’m a dangerous person
when i haven’t written a poem in a few weeks.
if i wasn’t a writer,
i would watch Netflix shows
without imagining a poem that
summarizes the second season
without directly saying the name of the show.
Apr 26

growing slowly:standing still

all of my words are fighting.
they bicker and shove one another,
they toss lit matches into barrels of gasoline
because maybe it will catch my attention.
my words are in a struggle for their lives.
when my earbuds aren’t playing music,
i hear the words desperately
climbing over one another like ivy,
reaching for my ears,
reaching for my eyes,
reaching for my hands so that they will be born.
i am their creator yet they command me to
make them stronger.
add a metaphor next to me,
one cries.
add a metaphor on both sides of me,
another shrieks.
stampedes of words
who would kill
for me to choose them.
the only moment they live for
is when i pick up a pencil,
grasp it tightly,
pull a notebook closer,
and finally write down

Apr 26

hello in korean

i’m mastering the art of saying hello
in Korean;
the days walk past,
nodding over their shoulders
at me in greeting,
casually ignoring the reality of
what they hold.
today i learned how to introduce myself
in Korean.
i repeated the syllables
one after the other,
until they fell
together in a mash
of sounds
that my mouth isn’t
used to forming.
i’ve been talking to my dog
in Korean.
when he barks,
i say anio, hajima!
when i wake up,
i say,
i go through my day
remembering the Korean words
and writing about my opinions on
taxonomy and atomic warfare.
is this what my teenager life will become?
i don’t know how long i'll study Korean.
i hope i'll continue until i’m fluent,
but i also know that at some point
the episode will end
and the final credits will scroll,
Apr 25

Line Break, Episode 7

Hi everyone! This week I spoke with 2madsmads about her poem, "For A Little While," rhyming, Lewis Carroll and Robert Frost, and imaginary friends. 
Some things we mentioned:
The Walrus and The Carpenter, by Lewis Carroll. (
Hey It's Delilah. (
If-, by Rudyard Kipling. (

I hope you enjoy!



Audio download:
Apr 18

Line Break, Episode 6

Apr 11

Line Break, Episode 5

Apr 08

In Case You Missed It...Here's Oh Snap!

Hi everyone! Last Saturday was Oh Snap! YWP's Online Open Mic, hosted by LadyMidnight and I. I recorded the entire open mic so you can listen and watch everyone read if you missed it, or if you read and want to watch your performance. It was so nice to hear everyone read! Thank you to all the people who shared their poems (and a really cool short story from laurenm!). 
If you're interested in being in an open mic, please let me know and I'll coordinate another one. Should Oh Snap! be a series?!
I hope you all are well and having a good Wednesday!