Posts
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the calendar is the only thing that doesn't care about spring
the robins outside my window don't care if it is sunny or snowing. we have passed the 20th and their wings are made of maple sugar & time.
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My True Home, Vermont
Being a Vermonter is spending six months of the year wearing a jacket.
Being a Vermonter is running outside in nothing but leggings and a sweater, thinking it’s springtime when it hits 47 degrees.
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airplane delights
Just some little sentences, quick delights, really, jotted down on a tiny reporter's notebook during a flight from Burlington to Raleigh yesterday. Enjoy and remember that the world is full of delight!
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Freedom Isn't What They Say It Is
I am eleven years old. I think freedom isn't what they say it is.
I live in the land of the free. I am free
in most ways.
I can be a black belt.
I can be a published poet.
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we are the future.
in the halls, we lean against the bulletin boards
and whisper of the latest news, last night's breaking, articles snagged
in the moments before leaving for school. lots of adults
think we are too young to understand
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pajama pants & regret
i wore brightly patterned pajama pants today
because it was blue-and-gray-go-wolves spirit week at school and
they fit the whole cartoonish hearts theme. you
wore black sweatpants and your favorite blink-182 shirt,
Loves
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Comforting
Familiar is this earthly language, these archives full to the brim.
It must be how the world got magic, these rhymes of life and limb. -
Permanent
I hold onto anything that leaves a mark.
rings that coat my fingers in green
doodles in blue ink on my arm
I hope for my injuries to form scars
just to prove their existence.
scratching bug bites until they scab
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ywp is a movement of poets
a community of fools
given the power to combine words
and a pen
that can write so much meaning
in just two, or three, or millions of words,
and sometimes, there aren't enough
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bite your tongue, and swallow
bite your tongue and swallow
count to ten, divisible by 2 on a good day and 5 on a bad day
9 chews too loud
8 rubs on each finger, 8 thumb to thumb and then every other finger. always an even number
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a death worth living
people sleep
in beds
in graves
laid down by death's sweet glave
and when the songbird spreads its wings
some will wake when morning sings
but others still will slumber on
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Let's Get Vulnerable About a Boy
I want you to kiss me until my lips bruise and pucker and purple and all I can taste is the inside of your mouth.