Posts
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generational
My grandmother never cut flowers with scissors, raised her nonexistent eyebrows plucked beyond all veins of recognition, blinked one eye fishlike & said a knife was all she needed.
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the calendar is the only thing that doesn't care about spring
the robins outside my window don't care if it is sunny or snowing. we have passed the 20th and their wings are made of maple sugar & time.
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My True Home, Vermont
Being a Vermonter is spending six months of the year wearing a jacket.
Being a Vermonter is running outside in nothing but leggings and a sweater, thinking it’s springtime when it hits 47 degrees.
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airplane delights
Just some little sentences, quick delights, really, jotted down on a tiny reporter's notebook during a flight from Burlington to Raleigh yesterday. Enjoy and remember that the world is full of delight!
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Freedom Isn't What They Say It Is
I am eleven years old. I think freedom isn't what they say it is.
I live in the land of the free. I am free
in most ways.
I can be a black belt.
I can be a published poet.
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we are the future.
in the halls, we lean against the bulletin boards
and whisper of the latest news, last night's breaking, articles snagged
in the moments before leaving for school. lots of adults
think we are too young to understand
Loves
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A Single Sentence Letter to Our Daughters
i think i know why aliens haven't visited us. they're
definitely watching with rapt attention, waiting
to see how we climb the highest wall
humanity built for ourselves in the past
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the crow queen - reupload (edited, full)
the crow queen isn't a crow
she is born of crow
and shows the crows mercy
but isn't crow
she is somewhere between the lines of magic and human
a power bestowed upon her unrightfully.
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hurting
somewhere a lantern burns in the woods.
somewhere a cold blind man suffers.
they will never meet.
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an encounter
Fear is such a funny thing, which looks at you with no humor in its gaze
and never blinks wide eyes, and is thin and crippled and seething, and has tears glinting off its cheeks, and is
small and alone -
To Georgia, On Leaving
you traded for freedom with fireflies,
gave up bug lights for city ones.you miss me like you miss fireflies;
a necessary surrender for your future. -
The Beast and the Pocket Full of Hearts
Once upon a time, there lived a young girl with a pocket full of hearts. Really, the hearts were stones and the pocket was the upturned bottom of her swim shirt, but she didn’t care. To her, th