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Breaking
Broken things make beautiful mosaicsThese colors you hate--in my hands I willmake them a new shape. Their cutting edges do not fit perfectly, but I fill the gaps between themand with a little pressing...
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Love of an Orchestra
I would be rather ungrateful if I didn't give notice to one of this blog's greatest influences, and the band who, for many months now, has influenced my writing more than any other artist. This is from...
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Bugs
I feel bad the conversation always seems to focus on me--what I do, how I feel, what I think. He probes me with questions and walks me through my thoughts. He interprets the things I say and pauses...
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Personal Pronouns
For my memoir class, I was asked to write a reflective piece about how I felt about the memoir writing process and which challenges I faced. The hardest thing for me was using "pronouns" so bluntly,...
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Far
I have lived too long in the city,breathing exhaust haze,seeing cement,to feel meaning in the forestor smell the floral sprayof unaffected life in the country.
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Article 19
Your hands tanned from daily runs, soft from reading books but for calloused tips you use for guitar picks,notes and time signatures in your knuckles;you sing in stringswith a vibrato I barely...
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Dear Muse
It's dark in here, without you--I'm stuck banging around the wallsof my creative corridors,bashing in windows with the hopeof letting in a little light,only cutting my hand--which bleeds inkall over...
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Post-scripted Poems
Not usually a procrastinator, I'm making my way through endless stacks of peer's poems--poems from my spring term "Poetic Forms" course, poems I should have decorated with my comments long ago, because...
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Unicorn Meat
Somewhere a virgin is traumatized.We used her as bait for our feast-hunt,and shot the unicorn who pillowedhis head in her chaste lap.A fine meal for our fete,we lusted after the innocent, tender flesh...
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When Poems Procreate
I love it when my poems get procreative. While I loved a lot of things about my May 13th poem, I liked it in pieces. There were some lines I loved too much to discard. Instead of "murdering my...
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Pulled Apart by Daisies
How dulcet and downy these pure white blooms,and bright with honeysuckle heart.Halos in a meadow verdant on a casual afternoon. With their button eyes, they bewitch--invite--to guard our unwary...
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Thoughts While Reading "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" in English 362: American...
1.Body-tide surround me! I step in time with you;Trees in the east! Sun there near and hour high! I step in time with you also.Herds of young students accoutered in the usual fashions! how strange you...
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Thoughts While Reading "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" in English 362: American...
5What is it, then, between us?What is the count of the scores or hundreds of years between us?Whatever it is, it avails not—distance avails not, and place avails not.6I too lived—Lexington, of ample...
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Thoughts While Reading "Crossing Brooklyn Ferry" in English 362: American...
9Closer yet I approach you; What thoughts you did not have of me, I had of you—I looked out prematurely;I considered you before you were formed in this belly.Who could have known what should move...
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Memories for the Afterlife
For my both my honors and my senior theses, I spend what is probably an unhealthy amount of time thinking about death. I'm also incredibly lazy and think watching films about death can be considered...
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The Angels are Melting
The first of my memories with Mcartny.This is Mcartny’s second winter. Walking, still a little wobbly, she says to me “Play? Snow?” This is before prepositions. All words are new. A master of...
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Reunion Over Good-Byes
Today, I learn why my brother will sometimes say to me “Ciao, Juan” pronounced "zh-whan"-- one syllable. Years ago we were friends—me sitting in his room, talking to him, he driving me to school every...
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Bourbon Lake
My father and I have gone camping. Us two. Together we drive away from the suburbs. Sometimes talking. Sometimes silent. We hike the same trail we hike every year, careful not to catch our fishing...
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Crown Burger
We’re at Crown Burger again—my older brother and I. Our little brother is with us. We just got out of being stuck in traffic for hours, and I’m late for work. Despite being tired from sitting in a car...
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Jars of Honey
I close at the night, petals folding inwardon a picked-over heart--the exhausted nectarI refuse to shareanymore from my lips,you drank with a thought-kiss.The dark and fragile petals protect me...
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