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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You look at me And I wonder if you see me clearer through your camera lens Steep me in developer Before you really Look at me Stop bath bathe the creases of my eyelids And flood me with fixer Like eye drops Until I can see You always get the perfect print But I am over exposed Light ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We set ships afloat in claw foot bathtub harbors Armed with soap dish cannons Anchored beneath the mast of your back Careening in the spate of your waves We drift ashore the coves of your bare bottle cap bones And capsize at low tide, your naked skin athirst O’ Captain, sail close to the w...
  • Nonfiction > Personal Experience
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    Everybody has their own method of maintaining sanity: hobbies, sports, music, etc. The one thing in my life that has never left my side, that has always caught the tears and smeared them to aching paper, is writing. Writing comes to me in various forms. Sometimes, when I am alone, really alone, my ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We are naked Together When we are fully clothed Save exposed toes And twenty feeble fingers Tracing spine And greeting our corresponding prints with Familiar and distinct satisfaction No sound But the plead and pull of gravitating hips and lips Inconveniently cracked And revived by your...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We are but A brief dalliance Between darkness and sweet skin Arachnid anonymity And Insignificant chimes of clandestine gossamer Sputtering in pools of logomachy and gloom Convenient elisions dressed in a furtive masquerade Of broken and Trifling poetry Spiders Writers Weaving ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We said “Chicago” And let it fall from our lips Like mounting clandestine smoke A secret to disguise That we wanted forever Strung between our hands Laced amid our fingers And lingering in our hair We wanted forever To play cards To give love letters To tuck away in blanket havens A...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The woman with whom I reside is an old friend to Chopin. In the evening she makes me green tea and plays him on vinyl on her record player that is nearly a suitcase. (Sometimes I think she may pick up and leave with just her record player and a handful of books; she is intriguing and beautiful) The ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The creases in my skin Mark the patterns of my Slipping dreams The sunlight from the window Pools Fills my sleepy creases The ones deep in my arms Lap up the streaming honey And it spills over To replenish the spaces between my ribs Draping the brittle ridges of my breathing bones W...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Listen closely Above the television frenzy You will hear The muffled sounds Of candy shop cop robberies The custard filling inside job Of crooked paper cakes and crooks Incredulously indulgent agents Taking mouthfuls of monotony Smuggling over sweetened teas And all the while We are he...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Sweet cashmere Kindly coated in time Frozen dream of 1963 How you bathe me in memory The little girl That stood before this mirror Professed her love for the land The same land That I had traced so amply with yearning fingers A reflection of my own childhood The girl in pink cashmere Sa...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    After we had drunk our overly sweetened California tea and hurried a regrettably familiar goodbye, I hurried through TSA security to cry in the privacy of an airport bathroom. When I allowed myself to stop playing the morning over and over in my head (waking together, breakfast, laying in the sun, t...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    She has gone out on another walk, though I know she isn’t walking. She is smoking, and I should be annoyed, but I smile; smoking cigarettes is her own little form of rebellion. Against me, against society, against warning labels. And she deserves it; she deserves to pretend she is making her own d...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I took the remaining scraps of my poetry And wrapped them up in a to-go box Tipped my finger to the top Navy nail to the always-lyrical Styrofoam prison And scratched “Later” Threw it in the back of the refrigerator Stood back and strung together the magnets we had bought To spell out “...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Born to the penny jar A monotonous clink Bold copper Brave semblance And as we age Traces of ink Pocket to palm We absorb oil and clay Riding the rails Blind in the day We conjure our worth Collect specs of good news and bad coffee Newspaper under one arm, We compile our protests and q...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I sew my bones To tangled brush The coarse and delicate touch Of an almighty finger Who knew that so much thought could go To the caramel feathered threads Atop your sleepy head...
  • Nonfiction > Memoir
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    I reached my plain hand to the counter where my citrus iced tea was ready. Citrus—I believe that’s what the Turkish woman had said it was. In my head I associated her deep skin tone and accent to some Middle Eastern country to remind myself that I was worldly and the rest of the souls in the lit...
  • Hot Topics > Bullying
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    In 2010 I had the privilege of accompanying my grandfather to the viewing of a film I had never heard of. As the lights in the theatre dimmed, my fast moving, popcorn grabbing hands began to slow to the gut-wrenching stories of women across the world that were no different than I, yet were living in...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I found New York In the eyes of a man Broken and alone I watched Silent As the broken man filled his rain boots with tears The broken man strummed His faithful guitar Water running down his back I found New York In the broken man's broken hands As his melodies filled Central Park W...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    The heavy stone Swallowed by grass Makes light of what lies beneath The flowers have gone But their shadows remain Ghosts of wilted daffodils Hiding behind the moon The tree is still there Though Her tree Elisebath’s tree When it’s cold When it rains You can see her In the fo...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I promise That every time you look up at the sun, it’ll shine a little brighter That each blade of grass is cheering for you as you walk down the side of an empty road carrying nothing but the wind in the back pocket of your favorite jeans I promise that trees will tell you more than your best...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    So I guess then I asked you to dance I’ve always strived to be that imperfect contradiction Swimming through the mountains of another world I’ll try to keep you interested I make silly faces at you Mentally hitting rewind Park swings benchmarking lovers of your childhoods' inability t...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    We were the balloon catchers The tree jumpers And bread carriers We were the coat pocket hide-n-go-seek sunshine pals We were the cat walkers Boy kissers Closeline hanging dirty-kneed trousers We were the satin cigarette on the tip of your fabricated tongue We were the toad capturers Dru...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The hard part is knowing that somewhere you're still breathing. Your heart still beating-- beating for me. The harder part is knowing that somewhere, out there in the world, you're still smiling. But not smiling at me. I guess you'll never know. Never know what the inside of this seem...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    In the middle of the field there’s a patch of thick woods. In the middle of the patch there’s a clearing in the shape of a perfect square. In the middle of that clearing is a warp of black and white. A graveyard, nearly ancient, intact and untouched; detached from the world. It’s not on a map,...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    I used to believe in myself. And we all did at some point in time. Because children don’t internalize what they think and what they feel. They aren’t afraid to read you a chapter of their souls’. But then obscure conceptions of unspoken societal regulations demand your innocence and da** your ...

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