Mar 14


Be grateful
because when you first blinked your eyes
someone took a pen and wrote
a name 
just for you
so when you lose
still have something left.

Mar 07

What I'm trying to say when I tell you goodbye

I'll miss you so much
because you make me feel needed
and when I'm around you I just want
to smile
because I can't believe how incredibly 
lucky I am to 
have had our paths cross
and I hope you
see how much I don't want
to lose you
and know that
though our moment may be gone,
like a wave,
I will never stop
coming back 
to you
because this isn't goodbye
it's only the


Feb 16


What does it
mean to

your country?

Are you supposed to be
willing to die

to protect it?

Because I'm not.

Are you supposed to 
use your flag
to wave fear in forgotten people's


Because I don't want to do that.

Are you supposed
to celebrate independence 
and ignore the way 
European ancestors
stole land away from

its first inhabitants?

Do you have to love
your president 
as a role model,
as a leader,
as the face of your country? 

Because I don't.

I was born here.
I live here.
But I wonder
how long do you have to wait before
a place feels like home?

I've been built up
from the ashes
of my ancestors
and the dreams of my descendants,
but some days
I still hesitate to wrap myself in stars 
and stripes
Feb 13

Things To do Before You Die

1) Have a best friend
2) Keep a secret
3) Camp outside on a starry night
4) listen to waves at night
5) vote
6) write a strongly-worded letter
7) go swimming at night
8) climb a tree and scrape your knee
9) cry at a movie
10) draw a map
11) play a sport
12) be silent for 24 hours
13) fly in a plane
14) translate a poem
15) have a deep secret
16) sing loudly in the shower
17) write a novella
18) be in the middle of two books at once
19) listen to "take me home country roads"
20) have a really good day
21) wear an outfit that makes you feel beautiful
22) buy a cute lamp
23) wear two different socks
24) compliment someone
25) take a really cool photograph
26) love someone 

Feb 12

A Haiku for a lonely poet

Feb 10

A wayward way of saying I miss you

I heard someone singing this morning
to an old piano
a loud echoing sound that
filtered through the wooden floorboards
like starlight.
The dust hung thick in the air
and it clung to the notes
filling the air 
with particles of songs.
Do you remember
when we would play together?
My fingers bent over the old piano keys
and your voice was
lifted so all the clouds could hear
the melodies that twisted from my fingertips
and into your throat. 
Rusty keys 
and cracking voices
make for the most beautiful harmonies
on early mornings 
full of laughter
and light.
I often wonder where you went
dragging your sheet music
in a suitcase
behind you,
your passport overflowing with stamps
in languages that tumble off my tongue
like heavy bricks.
Without you,
my fingers straightened themselves
and went back to their notebooks
Feb 07


I wrote a song on the back
of my hand
but managed to forget all the words.
I read you a story
that no one enjoyed
except for the paper birds.

I exist in silence
like a quiet flood
threatening to overflow.
Uniqueness is futile
humans fall as one
just take a glance at the snow.

I stand on scaffolding
built from my dreams
which waver in the sky.
I think I'm a believer 
but somedays
I just want to sit down and cry.

In my blood,
runs poetry and somewhere, hope
because eventually, I get a voice.
Be thankful
because by being alive
someone gave you a choice.

Jan 19


Jan 15

here be dragons

I think I float sometimes
maybe without knowing
but my little thread
and i fall upward 
but I'm not complaining
of course
it's the best way after all to touch the

I know I hum to myself 
And whisper over and over again
So when i reach the double bar
I’ll can spread myself across the staff
And clink rusty keys together
Until the resounding echo
Is a resolution of harmony.

I dotted ink in my fingerprint
a small act of rebellion
so that they remember
I'm here still
waiting for 
that moment where everything

I'm not sure that anyone
even exists
I mean i have no evidence
except for photos
taken through someone else's lens
and what should that mean to me?
its only a memory  I stole 
to heal my
bleeding heart

I write too much
well that's an understatement