Wednesday, September 25, 2019

pickles and rice

at a big nature place
rainwater big trees
caught in weather

somewhere I'd been

a bathtub located
near the common

watched a sort of

a worried,
glowing face
in the tub

she said
she was nominated
and then forgotten

came to somber
but soft

with rich brain like

Saturday, September 14, 2019


going to sleep
elevated against
wide open window
in cool shape of moonlight

woke up feeling this way

woke up and it's beautiful
a headache
music still
moonlight still

could someone else feel this
this triangular spiral of gratitude 
the room where you walk 
a while to the bed

defining feelings:
cut on pinky

late-night dinner with a friend
getting stoned in another city
the night as a character 
like the bedframe is doing my hair
in a low bun
that's how integrated 
that's how crossfaded

I contemplate the tap water
she says he'll torture me
my skin does
baking soda and 
castor oil
healing clay

in the day I stick my feet out
the same window
into the BLUE sky

Wednesday, August 28, 2019

All My Relations

in the morning the cat does the thing
like the cop car on the freeway
snaking across lanes and 
I’m the cars behind her

In the morning you should
ask the day what it needs

when peoples poems
just list the evils

notes from the other 
side of the fence

it’s Sunday

I won’t start talking shit yet

in the morning my mom
goes to church
in New Jersey

in the morning 
I think of moss
the undercommons
the universitas
it’s not about me
my dad’s marrying
someone from Atlantic City

when I recognize some
girl I go I fucking
know that bitch

all my relations is
such a treat
like a flat spiral
sucker all the moss

when I recognize 
someone I should be more 
like robin the gentle

think of the morning
of your life
it’s probably over
it’s a sucker

someone said
whatever you thought you were gonna be when you grow up
is fake
we watch double dare 2000 on youtube
my camera is covered with tape
we are being watched by my neighbor
his overripe tomatoes

listing the evils
actually feeling
someone inside you
is your heart like a library
a fruit out of season
my friend was scared of spiders in bananas
my friend found a crow feather in a bag of spinach
why is spinach in a bag
but really why is it in a box

its the type of lonely when
you’re doing a job in a white button down shirt
when you also have long 
nails and so many thoughts

lonely like a basement

when I recognize someone I go
she’s the lonely, fearless woman
a manicured wanderer
an entire universe
she’s Tinka, Lucia and Loo-chia
she’s ageless grace
in original costume 
exposed veins
she’s a packing peanut
a vampire
a black jack dealer

the lonely, fearless woman
ancountering men 
on the path
becoming a pair 
by space and time 
an accident
she is quiet but
sturdy in her slides

it’s not about me
my second manifesto
second man I've 
seconds left to
the path I thought

the Payless 
he Popeyes
the path mark

don’t try to write about PMS
it’s the mug at my old hairstylist
a puffy cage
a root system

the city 
the genre
the show

I go I fucking know 
this town

the toxic 
the sexy 
the month

the baby
the eggs and
the dumplings

the night 
the heat and
the T

give advice but also
we all miss the morning
the candy

what to do  
with the desire to party

peanut butter cup rash
Veruca Salt

the wedding
the motives
are murky

the deed 
its done
the shooting

its urgent 
stop saying
its murky

paint it in
oil so it
never dries

would you rather 
sleep on this panel
or ask the day what it needs

the root system
the radio

the core
if the heart
were a planet

what would the morning
have wanted

a year of eclipses
strung on a necklace

beads on the floor and
the pearls aren’t yours

we say we're not crushing
or fucking foundation
remember we die

I remember trying to open to the door for the dog

words turn to stone so
go skip urgent in the river 
when you’re done with
the thing
saying urgent so many times
like we have more time
it's throwing the rocks
at our ears
murky motives
crumple the script 
like a cartoon

abolish this routine
abolish these condolences

we are all connected
and It's not an idea

who wants to lead
who wants to harness
who wants to churn
who wants to do it
we have food leftover
at the end of the night
who wants to get the bag
who is going to disperse 
who is going to invent a charger 
for whats dead

someone said 
what you thought you were gonna be when you grow up
doesn’t exist
who is going to sift

fuck mastery

the new job options are
inventor of recharger
recharger of what’s dead
composter of poison
the braider of dread
you can be the day asker
the morning burier
the night juicer
the woman in the white shirt
will be worshiped 

today my family is the shape of a vase
its not about me
the root system
the death of my cat
I can call my dad and
he will know
this might be the last time
he will understand
in this way, 
the bottom of the vase
a traffic jam

if another cat dies
it won’t have ever been his
he will only know the
death and not cat
the wide opening up top

Cucumber eats
rose petals like they’re chips
she loves fresh growth

the way an era
gets compressed
makes me Open the curtains
and take off my pants

posts of
quotes from
Anne Frank

the composter of poison 

the paper balls
in the bin

a poem 
finishing itself
in scraps
the spindly shreds
of collage, swept
into the trash

my translator said I have a few 
options for edge
edge like cliff, edge like
edge like 
the far end of the room
or edge like

Saturday, August 24, 2019

timelapse pinecone

in a flat fake world
we feed on the feed
we really keep
pressing the button
like lab rats

he just wants to collect charms
and hear them tinkle against each other
that sound is what he needs
it is tinny and cheap but we all need it

sun or dumb
phone or screen
touch or together

Sunday, August 11, 2019


the waxing moon sits with us while
we eat our dinner on the balcony
when I look at her I think about
my friendsisters, the ceramic dish
Celia made me a mini full moon
with finger marks as craters
I use it to burn candles and wishes
written on silver and gold leafed joss
paper listening to Goldie’s “Timeless”
album again it’s like a time lapse of the moon
rising in a movie, my partner’s discarded
contact lenses in the toilet bowl
a pair of shiny divots in the water
St. Lucia style presentation but floating
and bowl, not plate. carrying plates of eggs
Benedict at my new job, dreaming new job
dreams at night, rolling along smoothly

Fantasia Violas

I water the plant
and the flowers face the sun again

Friday, August 2, 2019

oh dirty

when I recognize
some girl I go
I fucking know that bitch

all these earthquakes
in my body
pulse on the front
of my hip

how am I not gonna remember
everything I did yesterday
but still wish I did more

remembering bikes at night
having one friend
lazy afternoon
cow sound

I know a place that's quiet
except for the daisies

craving new york
like a fucking donut
craving the gaze
a long symbol

but then
driving up the coast
my "blond" hair
blowing in my eye
my arm is just a piece
of me
and somehow I'm not
throwing my identity
against a wall
the classical music station
the ocean!
they said
anti-road rage

I literally hate the guy
who hovered on the shore
behind me
in my rust thong bikini
I saw his friends egg him on
he's preying on me
he's being a vulture
and there's no way

the warm warm
water the warm
cloudy evening
the shark sighting
care or

I've had these same
summer blues since
and probably before

people drop off
care or

Saturday, July 27, 2019


Choose Writing vs Choose Reading

neighborhood this morning smelled like 
mowed lawns and goose poop
childhood Lake Merritt park smell 
the cork trees and the grass maze
feel the gritty sand of the playground
on the cement wall where you feed the birds
shoes on that texture, hands on that
the rotary nature center
dimly lit ever cool sanctuary 
the thrill of visiting the bees
with their little tunnel to outside
putting your ear to the humming plastic 

bus to NY again 
guided meditation for birthdays and renewal?
guided meditation for I just quit my job?
phone phone phone
song about community 
song about technology and magic
song about I will never know enough 
the beautiful marshlands of New Jersey 
song about an orange windsock
song about a rusty bridge 

mental block against whimsical writing 
in this precipice hurting world
buzzing like an indoor-outdoor bee
on Wednesday I rescued a bee 
from the hot sun gravel in the 
courtyard of the Rodin museum 
put him in the shade with a leaf

little top-heavy bus in the sky 
overpass above a leafy gorge
precipice indeed
to be a snail
to be a bee
to be a butterfly 
a pollinator practice 
grandpa calls on my birthday
and we talk about global warming 

he says 
service is what it’s all about 
grandpa as the Cal bear
he said he’d send me a video of the waterfall he built 
so I can watch it and meditate 
I asked if he did that sometimes 
he said
No, no... I don’t do that 

Wednesday, July 24, 2019


when desire is laid on you
like a hot stone
the heat could fade
but I ask it to stay

I want the fresh produce
the thunderstorm

but who am I
all of us
of course

did you know this, sign,
was going away?

I think of Going Away
it's childish,

I'm drinking wine this afternoon
but don't worry about me

when a crush is laid --

it's like that
you know a video
of a textural layer
being spread
but laid
two hands at
two corners

I still walk to
the sweet hole
in the concrete river
slanted and stained

the function of truth
in poetry

the trickle of green slime

that's not what it is!
(share this with the kids)

it's a little bit of sad water

I got some good
out of pizza
as I pass the rock labyrinth
I think its the opposite
I got free drinks

at the end of the day

I want to be entertained

to live for solitude
under the sun
how does one
end a night too hot
to sleep

too drunk to read
cold shower
all of it

I wanna lay the fuck down
and submit
to another energy
some say movie
it's just
tediously sexy
to be this temp
this tan

an earthquake but
fully upside down
and we fall off the surface
don't come at me

in bed w/
the ice bandana

Thursday, July 18, 2019

Schemer 1

think of borrowing

it's not my house

the shiny toys
the soft cat
the hot night

have I lost something?

my friends
right here

cameras in the corners
capture naughty
broken glass and
just bad

the summer becomes
a bloody sheet
a four-corned

a bullfight
a somersault

the blood as
a sort of

a personalized
a shell

the clock
like soft
all night
another time

if you're not helping
I don't care
about you

have I
lost something

the smoke alarm
the pink bench
are warm to me

so often

use pleasure
to sedate

I'm sweaty
in a fantasy

and bigger

Saturday, June 1, 2019

The Figure Of “The Child” In American Politics

“The always already white Child
is also always already
healthy and nondisabled;
disabled children are not part
of this privileged imaginary
except as the abject other.”
- Alison Kafer,
Feminist, Queer, Crip

realizing the compulsorily
of wanting to "be the stair step"
better to be a ramp
and anyway
why is highness the object?
safety when the floods come

Walt Whitman in the air, buzz
springtime, his 200th birthday
museum events and fanfare
humanity, nature

I think
     Song of My Selfie
I surveil myself 
     and what I assume you shall assume

I see metal petals
the capital
behind everything
it is spring
it is glorious
 and I am
daisy chained
to my devices

we are out of time
we are outside of time

on my balcony
second story with a third story above
feels like a river boat
watching the thunder storm
watching for the floods
wave my hanky
as we leave the harbor

Monday, May 6, 2019


something about
how I am letting myself be cared for
and how 

it is too easy

do I take care of my big friends
like they take care of me?

am I the stairstep?


sketched out by my old feelings
popping up

like just be

unless you've got something big to say

make yourself 

don't embarrass me

mayday bread puppets garlic

walking dog
finding a melody
my fav voice is the kazoo
that sometimes happens
vibing in my head
Jardin Sous La Pluie
community garden
dump truck toy

we don't 
      to be free

there's a park in my neighborhood
called Squirrel Hill Falls
it's got a tall iron fence
and rows of benches
facing a mural of a hyper realistic waterfall
trees all around it
it's convincing
to visit like a landmark
quiet and peaceful in there

I have no body
I'm just a head
like, suspended
plus hands and feet
like, a post on mega
with nothing in it just a title
at the top
and a
Posted by Bistro at 7:18 PM
at the bottom
how much can you delete?

the meaning of 
the moon and stars
the bullshit

long shadows on the page of happy hour
song about sunburn

I like that the tap water
comes from the Schuylkill
I'm really becoming this place
it's hospitable
that I'm allowed
chlorinated river dirt chemical water
inside and outside of me

Wednesday, May 1, 2019

Lit by MK and Today

the edge of a thought
a new groove I remember
being beautiful
a tattoo
new spots stay scarring
in the sun it stays now
from May 1 -
yelling in the park
honking w the heart
music and power
to the ppl

when a poem just
floods you with certainty
a cover letter to cry on
I say I a lot
I want to defend poetry
it's depths and powers
a package of air that'll
blow your head off but
fits in the palm of your hand

flood you with consideration
thank you for it, for time

Wednesday Mega May Day
a cherry
I see
six flags
your scrunchie
the website
it's spring
for short
a fly
the sun
it's 5
warm beer
hurt neck

need dessert
something wavy
so easy to say
sun all the time
sun kiss sun's
out sunshine
the comfort
of daylight
does it work the same?
the menu
to write
to see
we taste
and feel
I think
I know
I do

Thursday, March 28, 2019

Celebrating Young People's Gender, Sexual Diversity and Self-Expression Pt 1

sitting in baggy clothes
refreshments behind me
something like a mermaid purse
of trauma materialized 
holding the black puddle of
of socialization 
an eyepatch

the terms start stirring
my mirror phase
my mom’s body
the chat rooms
some heinous checkpoints
of dismissing my 
healthy body 
with the solid mask
of function and
rocklike love

Thursday, March 21, 2019

also as well

I keep getting this
baby feeling
in my new apt
like, I am one

I like how in certain settings
“sugars” is a unit
how many sugars?
it cracks me up

I dreamt about quiet lanky H
who says “woooo”
who loves coffee, watches,
and puting beads in the fish tank
I dreamt that she was a vampire
and I woke up heartbroken

The Butterfly Is Implied

The Butterfly Is Implied

Jacob playing his set 
giant clam shell hands 
illuminated from below 
the space between each finger on the keyboard
is like the rippled edge of a shell
like Venus emerges from

between songs he gives a treatise on existing 
linking so many symbols
masks, larva (the butterfly is implied)

how we are nothing but each other 
I am what I have
and I think of
my hearts not in me, it’s where they all are
he also says
don’t shit talk on death, it’s the special sauce that makes everything taste delicious
and I feel so connected in that moment
so alive for a second

I can’t help how sentimental I am
am I foolish
for making the connections 
symbols and signs so comfortable and juicy
I used to draw mask after mask
and I was larva, of course

Green Wave is a song after Jamie’s Green Wave
I recently found the poem of his by the same name that must have been the basis for the song
its about surfing
he also compares himself to a spider in the ocean
in a way eerily similar 
to the way my Green Wave does

I can’t help it
the knot in my throat at those synchronicities
I resent being treated young and foolish 
by the practical people around me

it’s crazy that we are older now
than Jamie ever was
to be older than a big brother
death is the special sauce 

I worry about my knot throat ways
what if they could they tip 
into an illness
like my mom’s, like Jacob’s mom’s
I feel so abstract so often 
nothing behind my face

can’t grasp the physical enough 
to stay in
or hang out
I will never know enough 
about books or basketball 
flowers or history 
and I worry about the egoism of art

I want to be the heartbalm
I want to be the stairstep
I want to be all of them, out there
reflect beauty back at the world  
it’s all there and there’s nothing there

I want to be free
but I love how fences look, too
just moments, just glimmers, right?

the ocean in Santa Cruz
the butterflies in the trees
on the way to meet my sister’s baby
the sparkling arc 
a spiral continues

and I think of Jamie’s quote about how
deciding the world is too sad to bring children into 
just allows it to be so
and how we have to continue to believe
that we can live and laugh in the sun

and, anyway

the sun is the best artist 

July b storm/love letter

I want to be joined by her.

expensive velcro

walking up a grassy hill at dusk

up and down some grassy hills

to arrive at a twinkling vista

tidy and warm

marzipan layers master crafted

treats in convincing shapes

a coloring book

filled in with chimes

I want to linger against her 

most delicate bangers

simple and perfumey

by the way 

I weep at each bullet point

Do you like the way it feels to be asleep?

read her tracklist like a beauty supply

from the parallel universe 

studded with colder verbs

and elegant trappings

Things Just Die

so merrily but a dream

joke's on him, probably


drooping spirals 

Thursday, March 14, 2019

Wednesday, March 6, 2019

gray vs zest

the shimmy light on buildings 
don't you hate when the turn signal 
jams a bit like you hurt it?
I drive bad and slow to take pics in this light
wind chimes, metal flowers, a weber grill chained to a fence

abruptly pull over to visit Colonial Iron Works
favorite storefront
a big display window (with its own weird victorian roof)
proudly baring a symmetrical presentation
of stair railings and a gate, painted white
a beautiful installation
I love it because it's like jewelry for buildings

there is a long driveway on the left side it turns out
bricks and dusted over warehouse windows
leading to a parking area and the entrance on the side
gravel and a fence in the back right up against the train tracks
there is a minivan parked there 
with four kids in it?
waiting for their ironworker dad to get off work?

no one at the front desk, dusty windows
all the high counters and walls are 1970s brown 
nothing hung up, no pictures or weird certificates
just shadows cast by the serifs, swirls and flowers

even though I logically know
it's impossible for me to remember
that after the garbage feeling 
comes another daisy moment

the spicy difference between 
gray and 
that I can't control
makes me believe in
brain chemistry
like today 
looking at a metal flower
is different than yesterday or tomorrow

but maybe it's not just me
the dogs at the park act differently
smiling, playing nicely, the conditions are right
I take my trip group to the contemporary art museum
and everyone is in the best mood
greeting Linda the security guard like an old friend
all three exhibitions are fucking beautiful
a rush, a wave

keep the daisy feeling

**** ******* & yet

after one therapy session
I was bored
and out
45 bones
so now I'm soaking up
the new student trials
of the new neighborhood
yogahaus vinyassa classe
packages there is
a sunglasses bitch
with several beverages
showing me her stomach
what else was I thinking

adding a can of fish to
the vegan noodles
I will always choose
corner of any bed or
classroom any bite
should be a corner

* *** ***** **** *******
** * ********* ***
that night
aware of my patchy lipstick
and fresh pimples
singing for who
just dropping the mic
smirking drinking
the glow of my list,
hiding in it
life in my list
referencing it
to die in my diary
dear Livy...

catch me
from the gaggle
everyone's afflictions
and yet I text
and text
& yet & yet
it's mesh

it seemed to be
a whole thing
a puffy, simple
bubble moment
where he noticed me
and we talked
kept tabs
you cut your hair
where are you
gonna be tonight

easy, here

the woman trying
so hard
to chew with her mouth closed
or is it just in her blood
the make up
imagine food falling out
my heart breaks the same
falling down
simple steps
running out
of ways to say it

the ladies who
try to look better than
even the world
the background sucks
-- not nature, but
the suckerdom is major
and never fails to shock
my softcore system

the mountain is beautiful
kind of small
like a pocketbook

& basic system:

you live and then you die
so you might as well be happy
try to argue, ha
I cry

something I do, taking
something away from who I am?

the drawings
the pictures
the morning dew on my phone

I think again of this certain moment
before being awake
when thoughts are irrelevant
distant, passing clouds
tomorrow's weather

when traveling
when reeling

to wake up empty

imagine this poem
or finishing itself
in scraps
the spindly shreds
of collage, swept
into the trash

the border of a sticker sheet

Thursday, February 28, 2019

Tiring/Cool Process

I'm laughing but
feeling fat youth teacher
with comfortable footwear
discreet, some remnants of
style: bleached socks,
several piercings, a stud-
my new name is
down the line
Mrs (!)
duck duck
Mrs. Turtle
they call me
my sagging
heat-tech turtleneck
holes in the elbows
under the dress
how much more
discreet can I be
and for how much
we did just learn
tools for blending/
how slow and steady
wins the race and
I do have new
running shoes
now will I dance
or eat

Wednesday, February 27, 2019

Angel's Laundromat

dream about walking around downtown Oakland
felt like Beijing
lots of convenience stores w/ elaborate
mirrored towers with
goods for sale on each tier
kinda like the boardwalk game
where you throw hard baseballs
at glasses on rotating displays
movie theaters with mirrored marquees
Broadway had two segments
Regular Broadway and Freek Broadway
which started after an angle in the road
I turned onto Freek Broadway and the waters edge
was right there
the dark bay rising, waves lapping a beautiful beach
sunset moving, I got out my phone to take a pic
the water rushed up to my feet through
the ice plants surprising me
nearly dropped my phone
I talked to someone on the street about
how growing up there it used to be more green
like global warming dried it up

I have a recurring destination in my dreams
it's always a little different but it's
an inn at the end all the beaches in Santa Cruz
there is this old inn, turn of last century look
brick/stone castle looking old timey resort
like the Sutro Baths in SF kind of
one time I went to a store on the ground floor
to buy a greencard? they also sold jeans and undershirts
one time I went to restaurant there, like Italian fancy type
it is a destination I know so well like I lived there
back in time

the way Santa Cruz hugs the curve of the coastline
is kind of like Naples
on the map

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

A Disability History of the United States

I like when people ask
What time have you got?
Like they’re acknowledging
it’s different for everyone

Wednesday, February 13, 2019

back pain dance

Stretch your arms straight out
from your shoulder sockets
Out on either side of you
Like an airplane
Make small circles
With your hands
Keeping everything rigid
Strengthening the shoulders in the sockets
Do this for a while
Circling both forwards and backwards

Bend your arms at 90 degree angles
Elbows parallel to the floor
Palms facing front
And rotate your torso and arms
Then right
Swinging back and forth
With your legs staying in place
Feet hip distance apart
Try it while
Moving your elbows to different heights
Above and below

Sunday, February 10, 2019

funk wines

raisin with a floral curl
the sexy strip of
red carpet
to the kitchen
my ass feels huge
delivering the flaky
butter bread shes loves
the hefty furniture

is the bowl food safe is
the wall paint safe
poisoned is the lifer
making people eating
feel consume-y safe

to talk spiritual-y
in an interview
or a crit, always
beating around
the burning bush
as if it's not central
as if I have anything
to offer

it's just some kind of
Craft, she can tell you
what it's like but mostly
how well it works

exhausted by the casting
I arrange the representative
chunks, the proof
is in the puzzle she can
tell you it pays off
with no need to blend in
to the nighttime restaurant
I can't dress clean
stress, free
the skin on my knees

Saturday, February 9, 2019

Here My Love

sadly everything 
is spending money still
both fun and not
so thoroughly embroiled in it
a cog in the neighborhood 
in the city in the state 
in the country in the world
remember those children's books,
ZOOM? no words just drawings
zooming out and out and out

I wanted the new Jessica Pratt album

to be a tide turning 
away from that feeling
Happy Lunar New Year </3
not sure if it's good or bad
that with my new iud
I don't bleed anymore
I just cry a lot for a week

listening to Quiet Signs

in the dark AM driving to work
Friday, soft day
all the dusty rectangular holes 
that were chiseled in the 
road on my commute route
for pipe maintenance? who knows
were filled will soft tar
driving over them finally 
was like a bandaid 
heart balm 
for my emo soul

a perfect curve match

the first days in a new apt
new neighborhood
are absurd like a dream
getting into bed
on the ground, no frame yet
looking up from the floor
at the height of the windows
like, do I live here?
is this allowed?
interfacing with new
faces on the street, like
may I walk here?
is it ok?

everything in our
apt is a color
table cloth - red
bathroom - yellow
yoga mat - green
dishes - blue
glasses - rainbow
brim when I look

the curved walls are
just the right amount of
playful but not intrusive
we keep getting things
for cheap and free
a desk a table
everything fits so
the backs of the chairs
are a perfect curve match
with the round table top

the chairs from a front yard in rural PA
on the way back from camping in spring
there were tons of them
standing and laying sideways
in long green grass by a mailbox
pressing the grass down to show
the darker underside of the blades
you know that summer feeling
...I want to lay down in the grass
but we have to get back to town...
'70s saloon looking chairs
laying in the grass like
covered wagon cast offs

Saturday, January 12, 2019

Dose Park

what about my fantasies
of moist climates
wine cellars where
mushrooms grow
on corks

what's my problem
wanting to fuck all
the wet landscapes
at certain times of day

the whole park was my eye
misty and low

and I want to run into
some kind of hug
but I won't call

I see me
a winter character
puffy coat
here for the last time

the park
it is my eye and also
Mima, all of it
she's the entire place
and I'm hit anew
for the ___ time

I want to ask her how
much she liked this park
as much as me?

I've always run here
from home run away
or biked in any weather
looking for a hug but also
for me

what's an unbroken lap?
the fog today is big but sheer
like it's only for the park
outlined by the path

here is where the mushrooms --
here is where the trees
animate, in the hot green (past)
all the points on the path
have these strings

the day of a late flight out
is something like someone
correcting my posture
with a string pulling up
but more like an abduction

something that's unbroken?

Friday, January 4, 2019

Small Nature

the softly rippling pond

reflecting winter trees 

in the water
the branches have small berries

how much damage would I do 
sliding down this small fall
the sloped rock is just so
metallic and inviting

I trip on a stone
at the same moment
Tara's S pops in my ear

I come here every day

oh if I could

new year same ish

oh how I love
being at the mercy of me
until I become suicidal
which means turning
the word over and
dragging my feet up the stairs
hair all bad

I took Cinnamon to the vet
at 4:30 pm
does the light stay any longer
since the solstice?
a minute or so I can sense
the tiniest slice of time
the whole thing feels
a bit dusty, Mima gone
Cinnamon age 14
a domestic medium hair
they feel her belly and
she's patient and
I'm proud,

and I'm grown

it was one of those beautiful,
short winter days
that slip away like
a sip of water

wake up in the morning
the sky spotted, shiny
something on the other side
run the tap a sip and
it's evening,
I resign

Wednesday, January 2, 2019


researching Masters in Ed graduate programs
is making me want to cut my own head off
like just snap my own neck
and watch my head roll away
because I don't think I can do it
but also rises in me
the desire for those letters of the alphabet
tacked on to my name
that dignified U Penn
to elevate my fumbly jumbly
Sarah Lawrence BA
I really hate school