In which I am silenced by the Confucian Patriarchy (a prose poem I wrote in lieu of AP World notes)

I elected to be the half-moon face of Empress Wu’s chapstick. The Small Cottage had less power and no generator, so the scholars determined that democracy was okay there. A heat wave reduced my waxy pore-craters to a waning crescent, while intellectual blue stockings rippled over goosebumped grates, and my yeast-painted lips swelled in the … Continue reading In which I am silenced by the Confucian Patriarchy (a prose poem I wrote in lieu of AP World notes)

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My Fear is afraid:

of Alarm Clocks because the numbers one through nine are formed with the same dashed panels, burning the fluorescent, merciless truth into stubborn retinas.   of Sleep, of citrus-induced nightmares; he drinks midnight fruit juice to increase productivity and panic attacks.   of losing himself like keys, of becoming the wrong pattern of sharp like … Continue reading My Fear is afraid:

My Sadness Starves (a prosey sort of poem)

My Sadness spends too much time at the vanity with baby wipes and sharpened kohl and too-sparse eyebrows to afford breakfast; she is a full sort of empty anyway and will not be spoon fed chocolate pudding with plastic cutlery, will burrow into the couch cushions until I give up. We watch the 6 am … Continue reading My Sadness Starves (a prosey sort of poem)

College Drivel in Reverse-You get it first!

How (not) to turn a page   If you find that your padded fingers Loiter within the half inch of page words Don’t occupy--my darling, do not fret.   Perhaps a passage calls you back, Having been skimmed over the first skip through, Missed by the stone of your conscience- Go back and read it, … Continue reading College Drivel in Reverse-You get it first!

Overdramatic College Drivel #2: Smoked Sugar

Ruby Ashby clawed sightlessly at the flimsy dollar-store trellis puttied onto her wall when the parents first moved with late night murmurs of “need more space” and fond cooings over a “growing baby”. Her eyelashes seemed stitched together with tears, tongue coated no longer with saliva but with the singed remnants of her world. Ashes. … Continue reading Overdramatic College Drivel #2: Smoked Sugar

College Creative Writing Drivel #1: THE LAKE

  Their stories fit together like the Indian Puzzles that rub feet and fingers raw-we reassemble grooved stalks until they are frayed and flimsy as muffled sand beneath tunnels and towels and toes. Wave-worn dykes punctuate beaches, inconsequential barriers over which stones and generations spill. Hasty scuffed knees on crisscross wires are bandaged by remembering … Continue reading College Creative Writing Drivel #1: THE LAKE

We are the Lloru (aka another semi-evolved Poetry Bit)

If you sprawl on the January sharpness- cloak your collar bones in a shawl of chiffon, frozen hexagons we call snow in Babylon-   and yawn to the profile of czars, gilded crowns studded with half-grown stars, tell me. Does the pillow-thick air rush to the depths                                           Of your stomach, Rest against your vertebrae, … Continue reading We are the Lloru (aka another semi-evolved Poetry Bit)

Exhalation: An Existential Stream of Consciousness

I am partial to half-used journals. I don't allow myself the first three lines, already occupied by the font I have dubbed Gloria after its writer (who most likely was not named Gloria) or a hasty birthday message for Chris (who obviously did not appreciate the notebook). It seems I haven't outgrown training wheels, need reminding that … Continue reading Exhalation: An Existential Stream of Consciousness

Disorganization and Poetry Bits

Yesterday I cleaned out my google drive for the first time since...it came into existence? Since the beginning of my high school career? Since I pledged to be a responsible high school student as to eventually evolve into a functioning adult and consequently failed to follow through on this at least once per minute? Sounds … Continue reading Disorganization and Poetry Bits