Posts
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vacation
at least one
red white blue starry flag
big or small
billowing from the golden flagpoles that adorn
at least every house
in this country,
proclaiming
nationalism capitalism idiocy.
at least one
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went strawberry picking today
summer means
sun-kissed still-warm
strawberry, red -
not lip gloss but staining my everything
as I eat it slower than snails, slower than I should
while lounging on a rock
river mermaid come to life
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abandoned
red kayak
alone
drifting with the gentle breeze
in the middle of the lake
water droplets
beads
of shining glass
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Last Day of School
I wrote this poem about a month ago, and I recited it at Fifth Grade Night on Wednesday, June 12, and just this morning at my graduation.
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is this what graduation feels like?
Fifth grade in my school is when
one of the kindergartners is your
book buddy,
when we read to them every Friday morning,
and when we leave,
it's when we mourn
the loss of our little friend
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it's an adventure
my best friend
lives up the street from me
today is sunday
at one pm we'll meet up,
go chasing after the tantalizing jingle
that roams our neighborhood every weekend,
announcing cold sugary treats,
Loves
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over/looking/the kid at the front/back of the classroom
your mother/ hacked together skeleton wings into two-part pieces/ bleeding stars, you thought/ neurons fizzing out/ you had all the time in the the universe/ your eyes dripped down/ the back of your spacesuit/ a so-called prodigy ghost/ acid smoke
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Rain
On Saturday, May 3rd, 2025, at 10:40 PM, it rained a perfect rain. There was no buildup. The skies never darkened. It just happened. It was not raining before, and now it was.
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paradoxical
the Midwest is a snake eating its own tail.
get out get out get out is the head, beating in time with the heartbeat of every new baby born in these states,
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Misfit Kid Summer
I look at the empty kiddie pool in my backyard
In the Midwest summer
My friends used to come to my house
So they could all get in it,
But they don’t like to swim much anymore
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lost packages
her mail and packages
stacked up
like she’s gone on vacation
like she’ll be back to pick it up
i bet if the postman knew
that the house is forever empty
he would throw it away
like it meant nothing
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Yesterday
yesterday
to you i was nine years old
with a black hurley hat
that never left my head
the hat that you would take
and try to hold it far above
my reach knowing i could never get it