a complete work in progress2021
Selected work (4 publications)
Fisherman and His DogWhen I scribble notes on scrap paper, it’s in English. Birthday cards in Spanish. Anger scalds my palms when I find its hiding place, sometimes it’ll burst from my chest before I get a chance to shove it under my bed. Despair finds me in...
the last summerit is july and i am sick again. sun is an exploded ballpoint pen bleeding across my skin. heat hovering above my hair; flies on a corpse. i am pale, lightheaded, room spins and i sway like the good dance partner i am. fast food burger pressed into my
HAGSI can’t see any of the stars, even when I stand on my tippy-toes and squint at the sky. Through the woods, the faint sound of music echoes against the trees. “What are you doing?” It’s Tate, slightly amused. "I’m looking for the stars..
Meteor ShowerThat’s the thing about love: it feels like a new poem to write every time. Knocks at my dorm room door, staying up to see the ways the moon changes. As if we can’t recognize the phases. If this is me wasting away: call me a dumpster fire. A wasteland