A mad few months y’all. Took the GRE. Wrote the feature for and crowdfunded for my second film, High (we will be making a short after all). Applied to Grad School. Worked, taught, went home to Colorado, moved apartments here in NYC. And hence, it’s been several weeks since I updated this blog. For anyone just visiting: I use this blog to log the gold remnants from my journaling exercises. You know, most of it is rambly not-much, or it’s just so angsty and biting, I could never let anyone see it, OR it is chunks from bigger projects already in progress – but the morsels that I might want to revisit later or share right now – I put these here.
I started this blog when I first moved to New York, and now it’s been two and a half months past my first year here. I’ve learned to keep moving forward, because what else can you do? I take big risks and try my best at everything I want to do. This is all I have to offer.
^^ Just keep on.
7/26/17
One Person Bicycle
Today my skin is cool
And firm I
Am wrapped around my own bones
No one else is sharing
Am wrapped around my own bones
Gliding elevated
One person can ride a single seat bicycle
Two seat bicycles are difficult to lug around and maneuver
7/28/17
Summer Sweat
How is it already the end of July?
I smell humid & salty & I am proud
8/2/17
Feel Like a Writer
I don’t feel like a writer because I’m
Always coming across words I don’t know,
Always meeting people who speak better than I and
Have more followers on their poetic Instagrams,
Always reading e-mails that say, “Thank you, but”
I do feel like a writer
Because I am alive for it
8/23/17
For Beloved Lemonade
When cicadas whine
Hee-hawing
In the heat
When
The sun sets and
Your calves are bug bit when
Southern Porches, White & Calm & Swollen
I sip a glass of lemonade
Yellow juice the color of
Kitchens
Clean with
Shiny Plastic
The sugar dries my throat
9/20/17
Burnt Orange
The trees, the Aspens, range from the light, aching green of a unripened banana to the burnt orange of maturity.
There is less of the burnt orange: it is early.
I desire to see more of the burnt orange.
To eat it, shove it up inside me, melt it into my chest;
bathe & roll & bathe & roll & bathe & roll.
The burnt orange recognizes the sharp edges
9/28/17
Trees & Concrete
The rustle
Trees rustle
Trees shake their ballgowns
They’re out there saying
“It didn’t all used to be here like this”
Writin'zzzz 