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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The Garden’s Secret Choir
Beneath the slow breath of morning soil,
the onion hums and its layered heart asleep,
a pale globe guarding tears untold.
Nearby, garlic dreams in clustered cloves,
its scent a fierce devotion to the earth. -
questions for the tiny bird
Tiny ceramic bird, frozen in midair. Are you doomed to spend eternity seeking a flower you will never see? Spiderwebs cover your body as you dangle from a wire, staring at a pole of wood, cracks forming with time.
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Simon Peter
I will tell you what I remember from high school, and I will tell you how you can follow in my sinful and lowly footsteps, that your blood might be as holy as mine.
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somewhere I cannot go.
She is going somewhere
I can hear it
in the way the house pauses
when she gently glides through it,
as if even the torn walls
are trying to find her. -
An Ode to You
And yes,
you deserve one: you
who has stars in your eyes and
infinity running through your veins;
you, whose heart becomes so heavy
with the sunrise that you
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Once, I Worshipped
I was small and stained with summer
sun, grass blade knees, and scrapes
all over. Morning dew and wild schemes, I lived
inside the world of dreams where faeries hid