Escapril 2022

This year, I’m participating in Escapril! Since April is National Poetry Month, Escapril is a set of daily poem prompts. It’s been a minute since I’ve written prose or poetry, but I thought it’d be fun. In retrospect, April was an okay month. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t repeat it, but I also … More Escapril 2022

Cherub

I’m like a small crying cherub filled with helium always on the verge of flying into the clouds and as if I’m on a string le beau will pull me down and remind me to be here with me now

Waiting

I dreamt I was waiting with my friends in a crowded tower. It reminded me of Sunday school. The feeling of waiting, the fear of your parents maybe not showing up. The cold rain and bleak quiet of waiting beside the principal. The relief when dad finally showed up. Something at work. Machine broke down. … More Waiting

Billow

When I enter the home, there’s a billow of warmth. I associate this with Christmas: winter’s biting contrast. Orange lights. Woody smells. Space heaters scattered across the floor. I think of all the things that made me love the holidays. Not gifts or merchandise. More of the intangibles. Like the bustle of people at the … More Billow

Sleepover

It’s not a sleepover unless it’s 2 in the morning and our hearts are bared with the things we carry and the people we’ve wronged and moments we’ve lost or hope to lose–our resentments revealed, our angers expressed, our sadness unveiled, our gratitude spilled. A sappy sopping melting mess. I swear we were friends in … More Sleepover

Middle

The cool kids glowed. I remember pulling out of the school parking lot, turning to see the light they cast onto the muddy field. The girls, the boys, so irresistibly cool. Makeup, lemonade, drugs, minds oh-so-so precocious. You smart aleck; you soon-to-be teen mom. How could we have known? Youth gripped us hard. How could you … More Middle

harmony

in a falling cast of white you were there, blinding bright forgotten notes of a song a harmony quietly unmatched

Mango Poppers

Lately, I’ve been flooded with memories. Vignettes. The sight of a person early morning, blue polo, by the coffee machine. Sunday runs with friends and pastel chalk we’d line ourselves with. Fifth grade secrets about love once unrequited, reversed, now going unrequited. Hallway hugs and devious plans, being called on our shit by the guy who got expelled. These images, vivid and clear, are like bursts of yellow mango poppers. Syrupy and strange. Abrupt and angry. And then they fade, quickly, only to make way for another.
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Droning

we found a quiet hobbit nook the other day a cozy woodish book-decked space with rich spanish lattes and oil paintings abound (and I think I feel strange because I ate something strange but regardless I think that a bit of stream of consciousness will make things better) the rain is pouring pouring pouring oh! … More Droning

Escapril

we left the cold blank walls white and bland stripped of photos of colors & memories that’d be left, soon enough i was littered with anxiety, apprehension —excitement, above all of not knowing the change that was to come since then, it’s been more of a yearning for continuation as i drive through the well … More Escapril

Lights Under My Eyes

two twenty. AM. 2:21. AM. Two 21. AM. why am I so restless? coffee. wheat thins. crumbs. caffeine. caf –feine. feign. feigning kindness. questions I have for insomnia: are you neurological? genetic? psychological? physical? are you the thoughts churning through my head rapid-pace without regard for gravity, space, time? are you the 100 grams of caffeine laced … More Lights Under My Eyes

bad cliffhangers

my memories keep me warm until I remember they’re just memories I wrote that in the summer first I was defiant then I was tired then I was reminiscent but mostly I was sad sometimes i wonder what the sheer durability of emotion says about humanity and whether it says anything at all and i … More bad cliffhangers

Disjointed

In between ceramic tiles, I empathize with Murakami’s characters (disjointed, numb). I’m reminded of how disconnected I’d once felt, as if this was myself but somehow it wasn’t. I tossed and turned, ran through storms, writhed in bed. Wondered: and so how did she, this other self, feel? Because I felt nothing. Between shallow breaths … More Disjointed

happiness floods, stream of consciousness

cool air fading sunsets silhouettes of schoolchildren swinging high high high up I don’t know what it is about dipping temperatures that evokes deep nostalgia for Octobers for plaid skirts that weren’t enough for holey knit lumpgreen sweaters for Halloween nights and panda-looking eyes for reflective lakes reflective tears reflective friendships moving on we moved … More happiness floods, stream of consciousness

City

The city is tired, the city is alive. The city is moving; the city lies still. Stop motion. Slow motion. When the light turns green I cross anyway, counting down the milliseconds, swiveling my sight in circles. The city, from far away, sparkles and sprinkles and glitters and glows. Juxtapositions sit at every street corner. … More City

Stardust

Reminder to self: we’re all a part of a giant shared collective experience mired in good and evil and love and fear and desire and emptiness and peace and calamity. (We are all made of stardust.)