Mar 12

The country bled red and blue

We stayed up late that night, later than we were normally allowed. Under any normal circumstance, this would have been thrilling: the freedom! But, as we stayed up later, I felt as if a heavy cloud was settling over my lungs and squeezing, a fish out of water. Powerless. I was only 11 years old and I had no idea what was at stake, but I still could not get enough air as I watched everything unfold.
Sep 12

Where I'm From

*inspired by the poem "Where I'm From" by George Ella Lyon*

I am from overcrowded bookshelves
from ripped caps and leaking goggles.
I am from the quiet woods by a shrinking pond
(A hidden place. 
The world was at our fingertips)
I am from the Adirondacks,
Cliff mountain
who told me to leave, 
but made me come back.

I am from guitar strings and pencils.
     From Winter and Grey.
I’m from “it doesn’t need to be perfect” 
     and from “yes, it does”.
From jumping in puddles and 
     so much music.
I am from lights on the Christmas tree 
and candles in the Menorah.

I’m from a train station window remembered on an old paper, 
and the chance of Odesa, Ukraine.
From chocolate mousse, potato pancakes, and fourteen tacos.
I am from the life he kept 
     because of AJ,
And from the life that they lost
     because of cancer.
Aug 17

Oh, the places we'll go

1.    The crash of waves on a hidden beach somewhere lost in France. The cliffs rising high around us, so much so they appear to touch the clouds. The sky clear, a mirror of the forever ocean in front of us. The waves taste of salt and possibility, and the air smells fresh and sweet. And fishy.

2.    A rocky scrabble. A final climb to the top of Africa. A pounding in my veins, of the altitude and the oxygen. A bead of sweat, stealthy climbing down your forehead. We stand straight, for the first time in hours. Still. Swaying like the grasses so far below, and the waves on a hidden beach. Our breathing slows. And the world goes on. And on.
Dec 19

550 Words (Inspired By Lou Beach)

“I NEVER GOT THE CHANCE TO SAY GOODBYE,” THE GIRL WHISPERS. The ice shards in her voice shatter the pressing silence. She squeezes her eyes shut, light  leaking from between the lids, cascading down her face. As her spirit slips away I frown. Her skin is peeling, falling; snowflakes or a broken soul on the wind. I watch her hands tremble. Tiny tremors that could destroy everything. The chariot is coming, sparkling in the sunlight. It’s a beautiful mask they hide behind. I want to tell her that it’ll be okay-- I want to tell her many things. Examine her life, memory by memory, until I learn this girl. But I can’t. Not for the others, not for her. No one speaks to the dead.

Oct 04


Today I got lost in my head.

And while I was lost, I realized that not only was I lost

but I was trapped too.

In every direction all that I saw

were metal bars and infinite paths,

each more winding than the next.

Every step I took, just took me
one step backward from where I wanted to be.

And every turn I made had me dizzy

and soon disoriented.

With every move I made I heard a rushing

in my ears grows louder.

That rushing was the pound of feet,

the scrape of claws on stone,

the shrieks of wild beasts held dormant too long.

As I tried to run from these creatures--

those with many heads,

and staring eyes,

and jaws that glint with rows of teeth--

I found that my legs had been cut.

And the faster I tried to go,

the closer the beasts came,
Sep 22
poem 2 comments challenge: Almost


The scene in front of her was almost perfect.

Lights swirled about,
in all manner of color.
They twired throughout the air
and bounced off the walls
and floor.
The lights
glinted against her eyes
as she looked.
Everywhere she could see
bodies thrummed to the rhythm.
Almost everywhere.

Music pounded
against her ears and her heart.
The thrum of the guitar reverberated
through her bones.
She felt the music
in her blood,
and as she swayed she fell in.
Others moved too,
in the broken darkness,
but she refused to look at the little patch of sunlight
being swallowed by the

She felt the person
at her fingertips.
She smiled as they giggled together.
Over random stories
and the present one they were living.
Pretending to be
so dreamily entwined
as the others were.
She knew it was all fake.
Sep 20

A Musing

We're always looking to blend in,
 fit in,
find our clique,
and be cool,
but maybe
the point is to stand out.

The only people that ever got anywhere
were those 
who were brave enough
to stand up
and say something.
Everyone thought they were
At the time.
Now we depend
on those
ridiculous things.

What would happen
if every day,
once a day,
we stood up and made a ruckus
for something
that we thought was worthwhile.
What if we did this
despite what everyone
would think.
despite what everyone
would say.
despite the fact that
all we want is to be like everyone else
so that everyone else likes us.

What would we accomplish?
What would we change?
What would we do?
Aug 06
poem 2 comments challenge: Left Out

The People I'd Rather Not Be

The people who know what to say.
The people who say what they mean every time.
The people who talk, talk behind others backs--it makes them cool.
The people who are loved by everyone.
The people who get the inside jokes.
The people who want to be in the circle,
and The people who are...

I am not these people.
When everyone's talking,
I'm not.
I'm listening,
until I say something.
And then those people go quiet.
You could hear a pin drop.
Because what I say is not what they want to hear.
They want the funny.
The teasing.
The flirting.
They want the right thing every time.
But I'm not those people.
I don't have the right words to give...
But then, they smirk.
Almost turn away,
but not quite.
Inviting me in, kinda.
Almost daring me to make a comment again.
Just so they can smirk at me.
Jul 31

Origami Wolf

I saw your eyes first.
You had a little bit of grey behind them.
Your eyebrows strung together,
And your forehead knit itself into a scarf.
I think it would be orange.

You said
“This is for me?”
As if you were surprised
That someone would take the
Time to make something for you.


I said “yes it’s for you (silly)”
Your scarf unraveled quite quickly.
You kinda bit your lip
Before you smiled.
It was a small smile.
It was only a tiny bit of light let
Through the blinds.