I wanted to produce something visible
that filled the beholder
With pride and awe:
and when they looked and
saw it, joyous tears would flow forth
And drown all doubt. To
My great horror, it caused
irreversible damage to the witnesses. It
ruined their spirits, as they saw only
roaring monsters.
overwhelmed with grief, embarrassment, and anger, they
ripped my invention off the wall.

 

Watercolor and colored pencils.

i am a child of the pine trees
and ocean waves off the coast of Maine 
the dust stirred up on dirt roads 
and the wooden boards beneath my bare feet 
i am a child of blood and bone 
and fireflies on summer nights
a child of cloud chasing
and pondering wrongs and rights
i am a child of the open sky 
my cradle is the moon 
under the thousands of tiny nightlights 
and the words maybe and soon
no clear definition 
no want or need for more
i live among the pine wood fae 
and frolic across the cold sea shore 
snails and shells in my bucket 
maple leaves stuck to my clothes 
the wind constantly nipping at the very tip of my smallish pinkish nose
i am a child of mountains tall 
and a state known for its green
i am a child of a snowy spring
and the low hanging branches of weeping willow trees
i am a child of the wind and the waves
the scent of food homemade 

I see half a story when we fight
you see half a story

please don't go telling story 
when only half  is proven

please don't go yelling at me for things you think I did
you'll put the puzzle that is my side together all wrong

you only have your side  I only have
I'd like to hear you out and hope you'll do the same 

i’m trying to write in three dimensions
so that every word is echoed
in your ear-
every syllable is resting on your tongue,
every metaphor is tugging on your sleeve
i’m trying to write because
i feel so desperate to make
this poem heard-
i feel like
i’m trying to take out all
my organs at once so that you
know i’m not trying to conceal
anything.
i’ve been in your place before.
i’ve sat slightly beyond your
shoulder and cringed as you
read my title wrong,
left the audience feeling shaky and
unsettled, skipped right over my metaphors
and final words,
made me feel homesick for a better time
when you didn’t maul my poem into being yours,
when my poetry was just my poetry
and i didn’t feel like i was
walking in reverse at every open mic
and letting the stiff plastic chairs
have more presence than me.
i remember a time
when i didn’t call poetry

 

Remember that one time

when you sailed your boat too far
and you got lost in the night
when you left without saying goodbye
when your heart was filled too the brim with tears, but they never did surface?
Remember that happy day

of your graduation
your family reunion
of that one day that you decided to try a burrito and it changed your life?

Remember how your parents smiled

when you returned home from a sleepover camp
when you told then you missed them
when you won your first soccer game
when you went to get ice cream and said you could pay for theirs too?

And MAKE SURE you remember how you felt at the beginning of this crazy pandemic, and how you feel at the end,

because you'll regret it if you don't

I took this picture up at my camp in New York.  I love hummingbirds and was really excited to get this shot!  I learned a lot about shutter speed and how to take a picture of subjects that move very fast.  I waited a LONG time to get this picture!