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Here’s another poem in the series I’m writing about my childhood home. Actually, it seems to be developing into a series about my childhood, though everything is linked to that awesome blue split-level. It’s still hugely cathartic. This… Read More
Maybe I’m a bad mother,But when the door slams and You’re on the other side of it,My heart does not break. No. The jarring bang and rush of your explosive exitSpawns a fear that reaches into my gut,… Read More
I’ve been working on a series of poems about memories tied to the house I grew up in. Although I haven’t lived there since I was eighteen, I still inhabit that blue split-level in my dreams. The series… Read More
Tell your friends IDisapproveSaid you can’t go Think you’re too youngDon’t care what you wantConsider it dangerousHave threatened to ground youJust don’t get itWill totally freak. Tell them I’mUnfairSuper strictOut of touchOverprotectiveToo involved in your lifeParanoidYour wardenA bitch…. Read More
I wrote a lot of poetry when I was young. I’d scribble something in a spiral notebook during homeroom, and then I’d tweak it for the rest of the school day. Cross out lines here in history. Substitute… Read More
*** It’s painful to watch you sometimes, Muzzled by hormones and contrived, impossible images That teach you to shine by conforming and hiding your light. Your minds whirl while you wonder what they think You think About yourself…. Read More
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