Posts
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for my friend who longs for new zealand again
a kiwi soft with suntanned skin from
what seems like a lifetime of being outside,
you swim probably unlike a bird because birds don’t swim
but it’s sweet to imagine – you
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if not one to write
i write poetry on lined paper
in class & only half pay attention, rounded letters
barely containing all i want to say. i use green marker
& stare dreamily into the yellowed margins,
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short poetry 2/1
i have a couple of pieces of lined paper in my school binders that i use to write daily short poems. i hope you enjoy reading some of them!!
child of vermont,
the snow thickens the sky
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tu bi'shvat
& the trees outside stand like arrows
in the winter morning, stiff & afraid.
the world is cold, and hard,
and the new february ice lays unforgiving.
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recipe for a snow day
Combine in a large metal mixing bowl:
One wooden spoon or ladle, tucked underneath your pillows
before bed. One pair of old pajamas turned inside out
(backwards may be substituted.)
Loves
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mid-afternoon thoughts
periwinkle-blue light through my shuttered windows
my heart is racing but my mind is blank with things I don't know how to express
that k-drama I just watched stirred something in me
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What next
Next week is the dance
and you cut her off
Next month is my birthday
and you tore her heart from her chest with your own two hands
Next year is high school
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jar of joy
there's a jar on my nightstand;
it used to be my grandmother's
but i recycled her memory
into a pandora's box full of happiness.
the slips of paper are periwinkle
with dark purple penned messily,
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strangers.
it feels weird
walking past you like strangers
knowing i still remember
everything about you
from your favorite color
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moonstruck
this night
the light is a milky, silvery blue
cascading down from the sky
in rays that look like liquid silk
dripping off tree branches
and coating the world in a cool, heavenly glow
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Lumineers on Vinyl
I need pretty things;
I need the Lumineers singing
about flowers on vinyl, and
I need stained glass bubbles twinkling
in the window, and
to see my poetry scrawled in