Autism feels like blue

April is Autism Awareness Month.  I work with and love many people with autism and their caregivers.  This poem is for them. Autism feels like blue Blue is mystery is ocean, is midnight, is forever, and darkness, and shining sky, blue is transparent glass and tastes like sadness sometimes but sounds like blueberries covering small... Continue Reading →

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This is my zombie apocalypse

As I walk out of the department store dressing room, the poreless, skinless mannequins mock me with their necks. Their toothpick thighs and kneeless legs spring into cellulite-free life and kick, adding injury to insult as their handless arms block my path. This, I think, is my zombie apocalypse. I leap away, too late, as... Continue Reading →

Chain Mail

Chain Mail At Safeway, the boy stands with his mother in line. His pale blue polo shirt with something that looks like a squirrel embroidered on the left chest is stained with what might be chocolate milk. His hair is wild from a full day of learning, his shoe untied, his shirt untucked from his... Continue Reading →

Spaces for sunlight

I wrote this poem back in 2016, but these words have been going through my head for days: ...holding breath is not the way to breathe. Tensing muscles is not the way to stretch, and crumbling is not always breaking but a way of coming together with a space for sunlight... I went into yoga... Continue Reading →

52 Cards: A Poem in 5 Acts

I. When I realize it’s been months since I wrote a poem I wonder why I’ve had nothing to say. Wonder why words do not burn my skull, why feelings do not pour from my fingers, why rage no longer screams my veins until I drip words- small, heavy, metallic - from artery to floor.... Continue Reading →

Day 10: This Is For My Sisters

This is for my sisters whose hearts break open with each new dawn. For those whose pulse sounds desperate in their temples. For beating hearts bruising tremulous veins. For those wearing skin like suits of armor: we are gladiators passing as sister, mother, daughter, friend; our breasts and waistlines labeled with adjectives not seen in... Continue Reading →

Day 9: Living Edgelessly

A really quick poem: Living Edgelessly Being a poet means living edgelessly on the verge. Always free- falling through life and line-breaks, there are poems in the vulnerability I carry like pocket-knife. In the lethal words I swallow. In the explosive battle of worth. I sweat from the outside in. Let water pool between my... Continue Reading →

Woman Body

Woman Body Woman body knows Spanx, push-up bras, and high-heeled shoes are designed to keep us small. Knows women used to faint on couches from corsets strangling breath. Woman body knows we have always survived on less: less oxygen, less stability, less money, less space, less rights, less of our own bodies. Woman body knows... Continue Reading →

My Voice Walks Into a Room

My voice walks into a room. I was going to start with hello? It’s me… by way of introduction but then I realized Adele already took that and now you’re all singing and I don’t have Adele’s voice and that’s not the kind of voice I’m talking about, and – Let’s start over. My voice... Continue Reading →

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