16 years old


  • Empty Nests

    Tell me we'll be ten forever 

    and I'll ride my scooter to your house 

    every day, and never learn 

    not to trip over the crack on your driveway. 

  • migration

    i, like many poets, have wondered a million times what it would be like to be a bird: soaring high above the trees, unburdened by life's banal worries. something primal and free. 

  • cutting fruit

    the sound of laughter through sun-spotted trees,

    i dreamed last night we were fae frolicking 

    in rings of toadstools, in and out of trees.

    fireworks went off in my head as 

  • on the off-road?

    two weeks ago we were stuck in the plains 

    somewhere in the midwest with no service. you pulled out 

    some 1999 AAA member's map and said 

    "crack it open," and i still loved you, even then. words flowed