“his is my personal musings on what in my life is changing to such a degree that I was initially riddled with fear and panic, but am now feeling more like a hot-air balloon merging with the clouds, into the sunlight. But, like, not about to burn up. And if I am, like I would be reborn from the ashes of myself. Not to wax poetic about it, or anything.”
This one I think is meant to be performed. When I wrote it, it sounded like a monologue. Someone telling whoever would listen how she fucked up her plants.
Written when trying to challenge myself to identify who I am for a poetic bio. #Fail
This is a “Weekly Spotlight” feature piece I’m watching my motherFrom my lowStoop/ a substantial womanIn body and mindGliding throughThe clutteredSpace of our roomAround my grandmother’s yellow arm chair,A hamper stuffed with clothesAnd both our desksLittered with papers—stories she wasTeaching me to write inA voice she was urging meTo use/Things she couldn’t learn me byContinue reading “Lessons”