poem: again

it started again in her later years, when she had only just declared independence. she sat alone (again) and bit her thumb with the intention of blood. at first it was art class with the good conversations spinning away from her like spanish gold and she was too shy to walk from ceramics to drawing… Continue reading poem: again

poem: highschool is over (cheers to this)

i am spinning in a blue dress and to first follow him i must be all of myself, not for the matriarchy but for my small ascendence into what He envisioned. this is not high school: strangers will smile at you, later, i promise. Also, listen: the depression and the choas will not go away… Continue reading poem: highschool is over (cheers to this)

poem: ghost

this is the ghost. sitting with my tongue sour and pressed against my teeth; writing five bad essay sentences and stopping to stare out the inside window. how the hell do people have so many friends? this is the ghost. no longer can I tell if I was in love with the symbol, with the… Continue reading poem: ghost

poem: war + peace, scarlett o’hara, plato (& her)

I have known too much to be secure in what I have known. Even I am sick of this narrative: here is the danger-warning, so listen: rewriting the narrative inside your head so that what happened happened differently is (please don't make me finish this face this). long sigh, and tucking the hair behind my… Continue reading poem: war + peace, scarlett o’hara, plato (& her)

poem: c++ [i do not write love poems anymore]

#include <iostream> i will just rewrite things nicely inside me and rewire the currents and de-bug the code so that int main () { he was not my second love or the first boy he was just he was just endl; he was nothing. he was a flux of my self-projection and a tightly labeled… Continue reading poem: c++ [i do not write love poems anymore]

poem: all this is [now] redundant

everytime i hear footsteps i think it is [him] but i look up and of course i am wrong he does not belong to me [anymore] so why am i waiting for him to come back to me. there is too much grey in tiled hearts i am just bored i am a female anomaly… Continue reading poem: all this is [now] redundant

poem: what isn’t polite but is poetic

there is a strange boy just across from me and if the universe was titled the other direction the stars would fall drunkenly in our laps and then drip out of our too-small reach, their dying tails in my grey sweater and his wrinkled shirts. i think there is something fundamentally wrong with this boy… Continue reading poem: what isn’t polite but is poetic

poem: foolish games

i won't tell you his name but it's very beautiful still inside my mouth and i could have civilized him and brought that innocence softness of him into everyday candlelight. the places where i go, now, are only places where he smiled at me once but all is fiction and idealized in this locked box… Continue reading poem: foolish games

poem: girl standing (abroad)

girl standing in the yellowing light of a foreign classroom with asian fingerprints on the windows and her face turned up to the rippling low green mountains that sneak up to the smog and the blue horizons. she has a red scarf twisted around her neck and her future with the romance pecking at the… Continue reading poem: girl standing (abroad)