In 365, Poetry on April 24, 2013 at 10:07 pm
Three months ago:
on my drive home, i always look for the moon. i momentarily lose my train of thought when i catch a glimpse of the moon, my eyes even leaving the road while i let my peripheral vision take the wheel. the driving is not safe, but i feel guided by its light. cast against the darkness of the sky, it glistens in its crescent-ness. or its fullness. or even if it is just a sliver of light, it calms me. there are nights when i leave my blinds open, just so i can stare at the moon. i let its light in my room, while i lay in the darkness, breathing in the stillness. my mind becomes a blank state and my eyes are locked in its swelling. i always say that i want to be a morning person but it is the night that embraces me. and it is the moon that welcomes me.
In Poetry on April 21, 2013 at 12:49 am
I just got home, and felt the urgent need to document this very second. Currently, I am reeling from all the love, from all the beauty that is Sugarcane – the space, the weekly workshops, the community, the writing, and Fly. And Fly. From the minute I shared my first piece at Fly’s living room to the culminating group hug (as in: the Sugarcane writers and the audience) that ensued at the end of tonight’s showcase, I am forever changed, inspired by this experience. Here’s one of the poems I read tonight:
In 365, Music, Poetry, Queer, Work In Progress on February 12, 2013 at 4:52 pm
love is a wall of phone cards: red and blue and yellow and smiling brown faces on plastic with ten digits underneath the silver coating you scratched off with a quarter.
it is the automated voice on the phone that tells you that you have 60 minutes left, followed by a long silence and then ringing.