Voices

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Time to Create

It’s too bad I like words.I find myself staringat this page-screentrying to achieve lexical beautyto Shakespearize my modern qualmsto romanticise my digital

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Pancakes

When I was young, my dad used to make pancakes. He used a Bisquick base, adding spoonfuls of sugar and dollops of

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Time to Create

It’s too bad I like words.I find myself staringat this page-screentrying to achieve lexical beautyto Shakespearize my modern qualmsto romanticise my digital

More

Pancakes

When I was young, my dad used to make pancakes. He used a Bisquick base, adding spoonfuls of sugar and dollops of

More

A Trip’s End

An unfinished, unsettled air swells my lungs. I choke.Hollowed redwoods and pastel Victorians echo car songsI find no solace in repeating alone.

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Morning

I awake immobile.Make any move and the world will fall apart,Along with all the schemas we devised;An insatiable heart, not my own,batters

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The Universe

The lake is a Universe on some days. The grass and the water coated gently with the gauze of the sun which, touching the

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Palimpsest

After Adrienne Rich’s “Diving into the Wreck” Lacing my fingers through hers, my mothernavigates our adjoined hands. Together, we read the book of

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Rom-Com

It’s funny, when I first fell in lovewe weren’t hurrying through a bustling city.We never collided in a coincidenceof cascading documents and

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Out of Tune

I am leaving to find the last jazz standard where you left it for me as a gift,to hold it like an

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The Man in Me

In the hot kitchen summer I eat lunch and Lesbian Jen turns on the radio. It is post-high school pre-everything with flies

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Pounce

I never knew I could be so unkind. Even now, seeing the bodymove in on itself,slow slink, shouldersstealing small breathsabove the high

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Now Hiring

You’re lucky.You’re on trial period. They dress youUp like a doll and really, what a uniform.The girl you replacedThought her official title

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Elegy for Alana

I call Mami everydayafter class and she gives me the rundown:work was fine, but some of her studentsare lazy and annoying,dad is

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Growing Down

You were the type of person to wait until I died to give me flowers. You were the type of person to

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April

Spring’s out and the lake’s so clear you can see duck feet waddling. It’s 2:35 on Sunday and the Serpentine is littered

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