After hiking into the nature preserve, I took a moment to breathe – absorbing everything around me: sights, sounds, and smells. This recording expresses how I felt.
A color poem about the feelings of blue.
A poem about redefining one’s fate, and flipping limitations inside out.
How do I begin to write poetry, when I’m far from the brink of despair?
Do I string words like lights at Christmas time, wrapping them across my body and around my neck,
until I choke out some semblance of meaning?
i don’t write poems, i disrupt prose
I was young. We were dumb. That’s usually how the story unfolds.
In our case, you were new to me. And in a way, I was new to you,
we were lonely and craving each other.
A crafty poem about love, intimacy, and joy rides through the rain.
A haiku about aliens, wondering, and young love.