Posts
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it's sunset
step outside
the breeze is blowing
wisps of cirrus cloud
the sky is blue
the geese are leaving
farewell
we say
and don't mean it
mean it please for once
the turning leaves will thank you
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yom kippur
the world was gray and cold when i rolled out of bed,
the first frost of the season just barely
kissing the ground. i tied the morning
into shoelace knots and hugged forgiveness to my chest.
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i can't remember when i last said the pledge of allegiance
i know all the words, of course. who doesn't? we are practically
brainwashed into our knowing, having to stand and face the flag
(when did you learn that it was hand over heart &
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letter to anyone who thinks they're not enough
you are.
and: you don't have to be.
let yourself exist.
sleep in late.
make your favorite foods.
hug your shoulders, your knees, not to hide behind but to marvel at.
you are marvelous.
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rosh hashanah
means head of the year,
tippy-top, press restart, new year, wind it up, begin again,
clean slate, fresh sheet of paper. so get out your markers.
we're going to draw ourselves a better world.
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ode to the girl in my homeroom who only speaks french
she came up behind me one day & tapped me on the shoulder
i spun on my heel, unsteady, a dumb american consistently
ashamed of my language
she pointed at my face and drew a heart in the air with her thumbs
Loves
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A Half-Satirical Attempt At Explaining What It Feels Like to Attempt to Bargain With Time
Hey. So, it’s me. Like always. Also, it’s 12:30. I’m sure you’ll remember that, like always, I would love to be able to sleep. Maybe you’ll just give me another hour or two? See, I had things to do. Poetry. A portfolio.
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Why I Was Late To Band Today
"So I was in English class, right," said the kid, "and the bell rang, and while I was switching classes, I got super thirsty, so I stopped at the water fountain, but then I remembered that this fountain is out of order and the only other one is in
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Something to get used to
He went out with her last month,
something I will have to get used to,
the glances they'll pass,
and the shadows that will dance at night when there is no one around to watch.
She gave him a nickname,
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ideologies
stardust in rivers
oceans and streams
d0wn from the night sky
and then to you and me
but the label spalled on
wouldn't dare to make you yawn
with the work put in
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1/18/26
You sit in the middle of your college cafeteria—top floor—and things become very apparent to you, very quickly.
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Marigolds, oh marigolds.
I wrote this short story poem thing and I really want to make it better but I don't know what to add or fix. Here it is:
The flowers died on a Monday.