blog posts

writing and ranting and rhyming and etc..

Table of Contents

1.20.2026

horsefly

sole pink rose, foreshadowing. last phone call, faltering in only a color i can’t see, f...

11.05.2025

loose ends forever

something infectious about this heart of hearts. to know it is sweet & lazy, eggs sunny-side up & guilty laughter prologuing the obligatory shake of a h...

7.7.2025

collecting dolls

stealing pretty words and twisting their arms into pretty sentences makes me feel like my first boyfriend (if there was an -ism to describe an addiction to words id use it here, he lived and died f...

6.07.2025

the heights

think of jersey summer think of flying god incarnate as a kite, free as a bird but stable as calcite and steadied by a fertile earth of sweat, tears, certain mainly innocuous over-waterings that fo...

1.24.2025

twenty-two "I am"s

my friend Daphne asked me to write down 20 “I am”s for her sociology class assignment on categorizing identities. The list ended at

1. I am a creative person 2. I am intelligent 3. I am very, very curious about the world around...

1.12.2025

exercise

writing about being scared doesn’t make me any less scared but that can’t stop me from wishing and even pretending that it did. even now, I’m tempted to tell myself that this exercise—to get outside, go on a walk, keep turning my head so none of the colors or signs of life escape from the corner of my eye, to remember that even in the driest time of year this world is abunda...

widen your eyes!

because of the stretches and crisp corners of a building against a colorless sky and every single face caught in the wide cast ...

routine

I’ve thieved one night’s molten rest and spread it like butter across the past 5 and my pants pinched my tummy when i bought them but slide today down my h...

untitled

I want to stand strong, single and steady and readily proud of the colors I bear because if a flagpole doesn’t stand proud, believing itself an altar, then is that really a flag? And if that really is a flag then are we truly stand...

for guilty pleasures

praise for guilty pleasures; like when our friends invite us for ice cream and she wants to join until I say, I’m tired, I’ll stay home but you should...

water fountain

20 seconds away from being on time, 10 breaths away from room 212 I stopped to drink from the water fountain like fate’s will as it stole my punctuality; forged from i...

archived/older

calendar

I come home from the grocery store and the evening’s grim mouth is gagged with anxiety, leaving the air quiet: sunday. ...

canvas

A peculiar type of walking. no blinking, no breaking, no breathing, no bliss; anti-stroll no blinking, lest a face that is mine escape before i can meet its ey...

Hands of the clock

I’m writing the hands of the clock into ice, into a still image my own, I want them to stay still, I want to stay here. my own hands shake as I whittle a...

and i feel like childhood

I’m reading a book all cozy in my dorm room bed and I feel free like Childhood, when you get sent home sick from school and your mother makes you Lie down and rubs your back so you fall asleep but you don...

sitting on craige deck talking to the sunrise

A lot of cloud cover but the clouds are still covered & I’m still sitting somewhere unenclosed and the breeze still whispers into my skin and the birds still hum along to my music so I guess it isn’t really about the sunset at all. It’s about being here and only here; not stuck in the death grips of my past and all of the previous versions of my life that haunt me.and not paralyzed with anxiety about the colorless future, like cheeks on a strangled face, the realities imagined but incessantly realistic, devastatingly three dimensional, the curse of a good imagination. Realities where I don’t get better, where I am sick forever and the sadness settles in and the eating disorder consumes me and none of my friends ever come back. no instead I am here in the present, on the roof where enemies are the concrete, as far away as they can get; my fears as detached as the shoes I kicked off my feet. I can feel a rumble shake the ground where I sit; it must be cars on their way in or out, little people excitedly on their way out of here or reluctantly on their way in (I’d hope the former). The pain has lifted for a moment…I’m trying to savor it, relish rather than demolish it. I’m holding back my hunger in fear that I’ll scare the clarity away. Its worth ...

Haiku \#1

6 am, time’s up the sun will be too, soon. she longs for my retu...

Haiku \#2

Sentimental; a Feeling, but for me, more of A state of be...

Haiku \#3

an inherently negative word, change. if it were any good, they’d call...

nyc

there are no hippies in new york city no dirt white knits over hemp starred skirts and proud exposed bell...

april 2022

writer's block

I wish to write about how I feel, today, tomorrow, anyday. but the shameful truth is, I don’t know where they went, the feelings. I lost them, abused them so that they dried up, inflamed like the tender puffs and even lines over my right arm that can never be touched again, never graced by lustful hands or graced by spaghetti, tulip, raglan, or ...