Posts
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when i am asked what i am grateful for
i always feel pressured into
being grateful for the biggest things i can
which to me always sounds like i'm shouting for forgiveness
instead of gratitude. i never get to say i'm grateful
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8:46
there are all the things I could do with three minutes alone in my room
I have an essay to write and Hebrew to study
I have things to look up and notifications to check
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oh god how is november almost over
on november first we said
ohgodit'snovemberalreadywheredidallthetimego taking
up all the time in the world with our breath.
on november fifth we said
ohgodpleaseprotectushavemercyonoursins praying
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November 6th
This morning I woke up at six am. The country was bleeding pomegranate red and I, so sure we'd be drinking in a giddy paradise blue, stared blankly for minutes if not hours at the flashing computer screen.
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the definition of election day:
sitting in bed close to 7 am waiting for the election tracker to light up.
sitting in bed close to 8 am doomscrolling through election websites knowing it's all futile now.
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cold realizations at 7:46 am on election day
no matter what we pray,
no matter what we cry,
no matter what the news anchors deadpan
away,
no matter what the truth is,
no matter the color of the sky,
no matter the eleven years i've waited
Loves
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Written in The Notes App While Listening to Sad Songs
I don’t know if I’m pretty enough for this world,
I’ve got scars from every adventure I’ve ever had.
I’ve got acne and spots no matter what I do and what I eat.
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Something to Learn
We have something to learn from
(the toddler who smiled
while he peeled his banana
and ate it in five bites
and gave us all high fives)
(the lady with orange glasses gray hair
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january 24th, 2010
her voice sounded heavy to her, filled
with the unnamed emotion
everyone had told her to expect. except
she hadn't. she'd rolled
her eyes at the shiny pamphlets and blog posts
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In Between The Lines
Give me your tired, your poor, we say.
We will return them overworked and underpaid.
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Borders
Sat down drew
on a piece of paper
the land
we knew.
Sat down drew
lines between
us
----
them
it's a squiggle here
decided,
the river's clear
ly a bound
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A tribute to my favorite poem
Based on the poem "This is just to say" by William Carlos Williams.
I have drunk
the tea
that was on
the counter
and which