i saw you near the bus stop at wales street and lee avenew i was the girl in the dark red cords and the holly hobby sweater and clogs. the kind that make that cool clip clop clip clop sound against the sidewalk. it was monday. or tuesday? i was wearing my pink ballet tights… Continue reading Missed Connections*
It's winter. Bogota, New Jersey. 1995. The clock is blinking 00:00 at me over and over and over as Phoebe bounds into the maternity ward waiting room with a guitar strapped to her back because things might get musical, she chirps. Her wavy hair has been straightened and I am not so sure how I… Continue reading The one with the baby
Image: Page 46 of "Pointed Roofs" by Dorothy Miller Richardson. Most of the text has been blacked out. The remainder reads: The high the long sweep of glad music the first duet unexpectedly loud trembling hands across the hearthrug remember the red-hot fire the bottle the room full of play the silly remark feeling whole and… Continue reading What it’s like to fall in love
[Image: page 1 of "Moby Dick" by Herman Melville. Most of the text has been blacked out. The remainder reads: having little or no money I thought about driving off about a damp funeral of me stepping into the street with a flourish There is nothing but time] __ This is an erasure poem for… Continue reading Grand Finale
This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home. This little piggy scratched a hole and felt the Bern, so this little piggy and every other little piggy got shitty healthcare, lower taxes for the rich, the threat of nuclear war, and a wall that pretends ladders don't exist.
Slip into the ring, find your light; don’t be shy. This arena is Pollock'd with the blood of shy hopefuls. Now, when you hear the bell, the double-edged ring, wade, bare-knuckled, into the middle and hook, hook, hook, from dark 'til light. Then drag your foe, red-inked and scratched, until light glints from between the lines,… Continue reading How to be a writer
Like this. A 10-year-old boy gets dropped off early at drama camp by his au pair every morning. He's never without something to swish and swoosh—a lightsaber, a plastic sword, a stick from the parking lot—despite knowing he'll have to leave them aside 'til the end of the day. Camp rules. Your mom presses her forehead into… Continue reading The Hidden Beauty in Tragic Things
Without a doubt, frisky humans have a variety of tricks — some odd — up their sleeves. But when compared to the courting rituals of insects, the revealing lingerie, Barry White and a dab of Drakkar Noir on the wrists seems like child’s play. Sex was everywhere in the Fall of '83—scratched in wide capital letters… Continue reading Genesis of Womanhood