Posts
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& i can't stop thinking about how four men carved in stone actually matter
i'd like to think that the founding fathers, the framers, the men who wore wigs & makeup & helped make all this a possibility for me, would look at our country, at the cherry blossoms refusing to bloom next to the white-columned house engr
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middle school chorus concert
we stood on stage in black & white eyes tired but we sang til tomorrow anyways // they caught our eyes as it ended raised their hands to clap but i turned quick away convinced our performance wasn't worth more than // the quiet glint of confid
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And What Must They Think of Our Golden Door Now?
the statue of liberty was brown once, an unprepared American girl blistering in the sun as if our Constitution has torn sharp green papercuts into her skin.
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remember when it was winter? (soon we will remember spring rains)
it is raining right now but all me and my best friends can think about // is that tantalizing glimpse of // lemonade & too-hot days & all the rage & shorts & laughter // & late nights we can see on the slowly dipping horizon pi
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somewhere beyond this
"Somewhere beyond the ideas of wrongdoings and rightdoings, there is a field. I will meet you there." -Rumi
somewhere sometime someplace
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everyone has discarded their jackets again
it is finally finally finally
warm - kind of,
sunshine / soft rain / sixty degrees with a brisk step to it
that makes me think nobody but Vermonters who miss the days
of tap step / crocuses / daffodils buried in snow
Loves
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I want to tell you I love you
I want to tell you I love you
I love you and your smiles
Your voice even though I’m still learning your language
The way your hands hold things
A basketball
Your sisters hand
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The GreenSpot
Once, there was a little girl.
She was around 7 years old at the time,
and lived with her mother and father
in a little red house, in a little green forest.
They made chicken soup on their little stove
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Final Words
Intelligence is both a beauty and a curse, a double edged sword gifted to humanity.
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17
on the night that you broke your eyes open,
cried into candy packets you found at the petrol station smelling like gasoline and regret
in your still-standing baby teeth like slabs of sugared marble there were
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dear mother, are you really mine?
sometimes, i lay my head against my mother’s chest. i think. gaze up at her. and this time, when i look at my mother, i see. i see a powerful woman. she is nothing short of beautiful.
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I dreamt that
I
t o r e
all the flowers down and
p u n c h e d
the waves until they
s h a t t e r e d
like icy glass and I
c h a s e d
the grassy road till its end
s t o m p i n g