Poetry

Sonnet the Third

If I could change the sprawling heavens’ face
or lend a thread unto the fated three,
I’d weave new stars into the night’s embrace,
and happ’ly knit together thee and me. Continue reading “Sonnet the Third”

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Poetry

The List

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  1. They think Lee Harvey Oswald was trying to kill Governor Connally instead- did I ever show you the musical about this? It doesn’t have James Franco, though. Sorry.
  2. There’s an Ugly Christmas Sweater with the alphabet lights from Stranger Things; I also started liking it right after that episode. Probably should have mentioned it earlier.
  3. My cousin is a Surprise Republican, which my dad absolutely loves, even though he didn’t vote third party. I have to put a Cessation for Peace on political discussion in this house, however. For all of our sakes.
  4. I started making lists again, not parceling my words this time so much as putting them somewhere, anywhere, besides that little white box and pressing send.
  5. The things I’m trying not to say are building tally marks on the inside of my eyelids
  6. It’s so much worse to remember happiness, than to remember pain
Blog

A Tale of Two Betches

golden-rule

My favorite teacher, discussing the practical applications of Romeo and Juliet and Hamlet, used to say that tragedy was best defined by a bad turn of events, which could have been avoided. The kind of malfeasance that wouldn’t have happened if, for example, Romeo had an iPhone 7 and could’ve gotten Juliet’s “I’m dropping some dope shit the apothecary gave me so I’ll be out for a day, kthnxdontkillurselfbai” text- assuming that Romeo hadn’t already used up his data posting sad selfies on Instagram with superimposed, whiny fuck boy poetry about that bitch ass Rosaline who, let’s be honest, kind of dodged a bullet there. Continue reading “A Tale of Two Betches”

Blog

Hallucinating

img_8293I remember changing my calendar over to May, and smiling tired at the face of the new month as it smiled back at me, standing in the 6:26 morning light without sleep and looking askance at the picture of myself in the long mirror on the door, where a handle should be. I thought, here it is: one constant in a world of uncertain things, this still familiar picture on my wall.

Two days later I couldn’t remember what the picture was, anymore. I locked the front door on my way in and flipped on the light to find April, solidly, looking back. Continue reading “Hallucinating”