Do you ever look in the mirror, and not quite recognize the person staring back? Like some sort of Mulan inspiration, you feel like your face doesn't represent what's inside? A stranger you don't know, a person you've never met. Its in moments of weakness that you turn away from this gaze, Its in moments … Continue reading 36
Your expression is detatched and omniscient, but you're a face I've always known. They've built military bases, mansions and shopping malls at your feet-- I wonder if that bothers you much. In autumn golden freckles adorn your cheeks, in winter frosty snow details every inch and crevice of your figure. And in summer, you dazzle … Continue reading 37
Snuggled on the couch, Enveloped in its folds, My eyes become drowsy. Cozy and warm am I— All is quiet as the candle burns through its wick. How lovely to be alone, In one’s apartment. Peaceful and content, But I’d better go to bed, or else I’m going to be sleeping on this couch.
Give me the strength, that I might not have. Give me courage, that I lack. To face what's difficult, what's hard to say. I don't want to disappoint you, but I surely can't lie. I don't want to hide, or take the cowardly route. But it's diffcult to do, because I know it'll hurt you. … Continue reading 39
"Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return." What do we grasp When we run out of words. How do we love, when hate lines the streets. Signs and slogans, T-shirts and flags, fists raised in the air. Leaders talk big, they’ve got the answers. They’ve got the money, the degrees, the … Continue reading 40
*Author's Note: The following is my attempt at a haiku. Now, haiku's are short Japanese poems that are generally three lines long--the first line contains 5 syllables, the second 7, and then it concludes with 5 again. They also tend to be observations on nature and one's surroundings--the "I" pronoun is hardly used. Because haiku's … Continue reading Northern Wind
This is my hutch. Painted and given to me by my grandparents. Within its drawers, I encapsulated my girlhood experience. Notes, letters, birthday cards-- misspelled poems dedicated to crushes. Tiny trinkets and sacred artifacts-- rocks I thought were pretty, lockets that held deep magic. Inconsequential things to everyone but the girl who placed them there. … Continue reading Hutch
The phone barks far too soon, critically reminding "It's 6 a.m., and you need a shower." I stubbornly remain in bed for exactly 10 minutes, proving to my alarm that it holds only subjected power. Soap and steam, eyes still puffy-- I try to recall my dream, as it slowly becomes fuzzy. Coverstick, foundation, mascera,the … Continue reading 6 a.m.
Setting aside her china, Grandma is preparing the way. Inside each dish and vase, her memory is housed-- that of which she's carefully packing away. Names, faces, places and events-- cross over from this reality, to whatever is next. What is left is an empty room, a vessel without a tenant. A cardgame being delt, … Continue reading MaryAnn
Ain't it funny, that I was more frightened of the man who said "Hello" in the parking lot at 9pm, than of the haunted house I visited only an hour beforehand? Filled with ghouls, zombies, and gore I laughed and felt safer, than when I speed-walked from my car into the grocery. When I fumble … Continue reading Parking Lots