Dec 25


i think i'm starting to feel a little seasick.
don't even try to comfort me.
it's not the kind of seasick
wrapped up in my wool blankets
under the chimney
my sea town
by the highland coast
no, it's different
seasick for the sea
homesick without home
i wish i could cry
but i'm not going to.
i think i'm starting to get a little seasick.
goodbye december seven plus eighteen
pinning up my calendars and ripping down myself
Nov 23

merci novembre

merci novembre,
for icy tips of mittens like glaciers dipped in water
like pretzels and staleness and attics and cats,
like the edge of my nose
like the blade on my skates
like dreams of brown earthiness, like soda,
for myself and mirrors and foggy windows
for tongues that licked my glass and laughed and tickled
my throat, for clouds, for snow, for toes
je suis tres reconnaissante pour toi,
pour toi.

Nov 11

Ginger Cookies

Nina's hair was curled around her head like two sugary ginger cookies.
"Two large eggs - did you cover the cookbook with flour, Emma? Emma?" Emma drew her eyes away from the spirals of hair and looked into Nina's dark brown eyes. 
"Maybe," she said devilishly, and Nina swatted at her with the white-flecked whisk. Emma touched her own hair. Ginger cookies were truly delicious, cinnamony and crunchy, crumbling around your lips as you sank your teeth into them. Nina shook her head at Emma. The ginger cookies flopped around like baby bear cub ears, soft. Lovable. 
"A quarter teaspoon of salt. Can you whip the eggs?" Nina's voice, like creamy milk. It was smooth and caring. Emma turned on the beater.
The eggs flew around the bowl, the twirling and leaping whisks - like ballerinas, but unbalanced ballerinas - making a soft and loud clanking noise against the porcelain. They were mesmerizing, at the same time nebulas, chickens, and soft yellow sheets from the dryer. 
Nov 11


She laughed when I wrote the and symbol wrong, the straight part curving where it should have run along on one of those blue flimsy rulers, the kind you buy for a twenty percent off sale at Staples when you're desperate for September. Then Halloween comes and the ruler doesn't look like magic anymore. 
I wish I could say it's not funny, because it's not, really, and... but I'm too scared to say anything.
My Halloween candy was smushed in it's plastic pumpkin, the one that I dug out of my garage from when I was seven. I took it apple picking once, but the apples cracked the bottom. I guess they were too heavy for my seven year old pumpkin. I duck taped it back together, but the candy sticks to the bottom now and I can't seem to peel it back off.
How do you write this and symbol? It's going a lot slower than really writing and. I can't figure out where the loop is supposed to go.
Nov 11

I'm sorry cause

I crafted these words, don't blame me
If they look half burned, I'm sorry if
I turned the heat up to high, it's just that
I doodled these words, so don't scream
If they look part charred, I'm cursing cause
I turned the heat up 
Wait too low..
I fingered these words, I'm sorry cause
They look half burned, it's just that
I'm maybe
A little burned too.

Nov 11

Can't Get Past Vanilla

I can't get past vanilla.
I'm stuck on those shavings, swimming through them, forcing myself
To sugary twists of the times I've messed up stifling my coughs shoving myself forward
All those times.
And you are there.
And so are you.
But I can't get past the vanilla.
It tricks me.
Ha, it winks, it winks at me, I can't get past it.
You are there.
So are 
And I want that.
Doesn't everyone, I want those moments
Those impossible, intangible moments, my red hot peppers laughter scratchy throat caught breath moments
With you.
And you're there too. 
I can't get past the vanilla, I'm crying, swimming drowning flailing

I wish for mint and lemon and Chipotle meals in the car cheese stuffed down throats caught breath moments
There. And so are you.
Can't I
Get past
Nov 03
rant challenge: Election 2020


I know what you're thinking.
Another person on a site of 
Young writers
Who is asking you to vote!
Well, news flash.
I can't!
I'm not going to ask you to vote,
Because I know
You probably can't either.
Don't worry!
I'm only here to tell you
It's going to be
Oct 19


I needed cereal that day. It was cold and slightly rainy, like sifted cheese that only falls out every few seconds. Cereal reminded me of comfort. 

The milk was on the right side of the fridge inside the door, nudged in between other glass bottles and containers of fresh licks. I tugged upward and it flew up, making a soft clipping noise against the other bottles. I set it on the counter and blew air out of my mouth.

Milk is soft, caring, but harsh. As got out my pink porcelain bowl, I thought about cold. Chills on my toes and soft pools. Milk covers your eyes in silky fabrics. Cool. Slippery. 

The cereal was in the cupboard below the pretzels. The box shook around in my hand, and I rubbed my temples. Cereal was needed. 

Dry, delectable, mini bagels that taste like okayness. Meh. It's okay to be not okay. 

Oct 17

Nickels and Nuts

I got on the swing.
It was cold. A little damp. Years of me rubbed into the surface.
Hello. To the brown floor of planet.
It's cold.
If I did a handstand, how long do you think I could hold it?
I fell.

Farther up went my swing.
Circular. Grilled cheese. I am a mess.
Do you think seventh grade is better?
Worse math grades.
Then again,
Higher went my swing.
I try to do a pirouette,
But my eyes spin in their pockets - 
Sockets, get it right!
And my feet stick to the ground.
The skin spinning around itself. Like a tie-dye.
That didn't work.

I fell in the water yesterday.
It felt like a cold nickel. Iron on my tongue.
Plus, nuts (macademia) taste like nausea.
Farther went my swing.
But I knocked into the fence.
So I stopped swinging. I went inside.
My veins throbbing with nickels and nuts.
The swing was still going. 

Oct 14

A fable

An old woman and a young girl stood by the seashore. The sea was raging, large waves leaping onto the sand and gobbling back into the water in a curl of cackles. The old woman shivered. The girl opened her arms and embraced the breeze.
"I want to go in!" said the girl.
"It is too cold," said the woman. 
"I don't mind. I want to go in!"
"You will get wet. You are not dressed for swimming."
"I will go naked if I must."
"I have to!"
The girl pondered it for some time. Then she ran straight into the water.
"Why!" yelled the old woman, clutching her arms on the shore.
"I don't know!" The girl plunged through the waves, laughing, shouting. Irresistibly, deliriously, happy.

The moral of the story: Don't question the why. Live in the moment.

Sep 18


As you've probably guessed, it is indeed sideways!
Sep 18

forever, sad, chocolate.

forever... i might have pain in my head.

i might be scared.

i might be sad.

i might be mad.. at me.


ever, but i'll always have 

gleaming pixels on my phone that remind me

there is a slice of chocolate cake waiting.
Sep 18
nonfiction challenge: Bucket


I used to think my bucket list was to become famous, and sing, and act... not that a piece of my heart doesn't still want to do these things. But I have a new list, a new aspiration for my life. I want to travel.

It sounds cliche, right? But I think that everyone's bucket list, no matter how similar to someone else's, is always different because it's different in their and head and their heart. I know the places I want to travel. At night I fall asleep to images of Venice, Australia, India, Hawaii, and Ireland flashing through my brain. I daydream in math class, letting the teacher's words flow past me as I imagine all of the people I will meet, all of the photos I will take...

But most importantly all the stories I will tell.
Sep 14

More lettering!

Let me know your favorite! I love feedback :)
Sep 12


Some lettering/calligraphy I've done!