Mar 19

Bicycles and Feet

The year I learned to fly
wasn’t the year 
I learned to run.

is a different kind of flying,
one that comes straight
from your toes.

you up with your heals.

you out with your palms.

you from your stomach.
Elevation between your ribs.

I run from my middle.

Flying in loops:
sky becomes ground,
and ground becomes sky...
Mar 15

17 Silent Minutes

It snowed that day,
too much for March,
too much to go to school.

So I sat at home, in bed,
and facetimed silently with a friend
for the longest 17 minutes of my life.

When each minute passed
we held up another finger,
quietly despairing
for 17 young lost lives.

I could know the sadness,
see the sadness
too deep to describe. 

I'm sure I would have cried 
Mar 15


Mar 14
poem 2 comments challenge: Sure

Just Another

One thing I know for sure 
is that I didn’t mean
it when I told you
it “was just another day...”

Just another day where 
just another person got lost 
in the subway station 
and learned to smile.

Just another day where 
just another person
lit just another match 
they didn’t yet have the candle for. 

Just another day where 
we all faded
a little more into the asphalt:
shimmering puddles 
Mar 13


I could live off this 
It roars through me,
I hear it like a waterfall in my ears,
rushing and beating.

I could live off a life 
of thumping heart beats
and excited smiles.

I studied myself 
in the mirror today, 
really examined
the creases and smooth 
parts. A little dip between my cheek bone
and chin,
the squishy tip of my nose,
my pumping veins.

I looked.
And looked. 
Mar 11

Forgotten Plans

I'm sure you hear
when I whisper to 

Little words,
simple and under estimated.
Did you think they know 

Do you think they know how to smile?
They probably don't even know
why "smile" was invented... if it was.  
Was it?

Do you think they can hear
me too? 
I hope they can't.
Some words are only meant for you.




Mar 08

Becoming a Feminist

I like to feel my words, 
scratch them up with fingernails,
pull them apart with whispers,
crack them open 
and squeeze their essence 
out onto my palm. 

I taste my words 
before saying them:
weigh the sweet undertones
to the bitter taste 
of forgotten curses.

Sing it as if you
never got to anymore.
Taste your words but 
don't speak them. 
Trace your feelings 
with a golden ink 
Mar 05

More Than Always

You asked me today,
out of the corner of your mouth
whether I like the rain.

I didn't know exactly. 
The rain carries all sort
of wonderful curses.

Contemplating the sky
is unwise
I decided suddenly.
I know why the birds fly
and that's enough for me.
It should be enough. 

Maybe it's not I argued laying
in bed late last night.
Maybe everyone should crave
more sometimes. 
Mar 02

Proving Ourselves to the Sun

Feb 27

Don’t Think

I love this life.
I don’t want to loose it.

And yet, everyday,
I’m scared I will.

I’m scared to go to public places
like protests
or the grocery store.

I’m scared to go
to high school next year,
scared that I’ll be trapped
in there like many others
before me.

I’m scared that one day
you and I
might be the next victims,
the next names
on a never ending list.