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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Whispers of a home
I hear the tick of a clock letting me know every second I am wasting as I scroll through my phone,
the slide of my finger against the screen,
the tap of my thumb as I message someone back,
artificial noise.
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Momentary
To be young is to feel the grass growing beneath your feet
And wander through the woods aimlessly
To see the little, quiet things unnoticed by all else
And say,
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Societal grief
I sit in polished classrooms
behind gates and old brick walls,
arriving in quiet cars
that glide past the lines outside. -
the weight of what ifs
The black and white tapestry on my ceiling
paints a subtle reflection
of the personality of my bedroom,
holding the insufferable weight
of millions and millions of stars,
some bright, some dull,
