cactus heart
December 3, 2014

Despite what my lack of recent blog posts might suggest, I haven’t completely neglected my creative writing since starting grad school. In fact, my poem “Two for the 8 o’clock show” is in the latest issue of Cactus Heart! It was just released today, and I can’t wait to read it once I’m done with all of my term papers for this semester.

I also recently had a few pieces very graciously rejected by The Open Bar (Tin House’s blog). Their Broadside Thirty series features short pieces (thirty lines or less) by poets under thirty. Below is one of my thirty-line cast-offs. Enjoy!

Confession

I’ve seen oceans from airplanes.
I’ve seen Asia in electronic
pixels and plastic.
I’ve heard that if you put a shell to your ear,
it blocks out the traffic.

The bus schedule is in hieroglyphs,
the newspaper in Latin.
I’m a land of busted languages,
land of crumpled receipts, land of dollar bills.
My politics are shallow.
My pockets are deep.

Eat me to death –
I am sugar and syrup and salt.
The cabinets are empty
and the plates are filth.
My nails are grit.
My teeth are plaque.
My brain’s in the gutter
and my lungs are in bed.

Binge on borrowed money,
stolen sweets, waste time on wifi
from the neighbors next door.
Quest through the comments section –
“Asshole, idiot, faggot, slut.”
Sticks, stones, bones, and such.

Maybe tomorrow I’ll take out the trash.
On Tuesday I’ll wash the dishes.
On Saturday I’ll put the dog to sleep,
grab my bootstraps,
pull.

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belleville park pages
November 26, 2013

Is everyone excited for Thanksgiving? Have you bought all your groceries? Are you starting to thaw out all the frozen pie crust you’ll need in the next 48 hours? In my house, there is going to be pie for days, and my body is ready. I’m also making a stuffed seitan roast for the first time (I’m one of those vegan weirdos), which should be exciting/disastrous. We’ll see. Even if all else fails, there will be mashed potatoes and wine.

But all that is beside the topic at hand, which is that I have some poetry in the current issue of Belleville Park Pages. It is a small literary journal published out of Paris every two weeks, and if you’re lucky enough to live in Paris, London, Boston, or Brooklyn (in addition to a few other cities listed on their website), you can get a copy for just £2 at a bookshop near you. So go do that!

In the meantime, here’s a poem in honor of the first snow of the season.

Traceful

A creature of nostalgia and carbon, I was
perfectly singed toast, candles cinnamon-scented,
and wooden picture frames.
Everything crisp-edged, smoking.

For now I am all whorls:
the spin of laundry in the machine,
your cow lick, water draining from the sink,
the sweep of blue dye into white paint,
the tail of a comet.

In the end,
thinking myself almost nothing,
I’ll imagine my breath to be
the impression left by sunlight
between the hours of 6 and 7am
after a snowfall in the night.

 

 

cloud city press
September 14, 2013

Hello, dear readers. Are you excited for sweater weather? It’s still technically summer, but I’m sitting here in a thinsulate-lined wool hat and sweat pants, and I’m really stoked to have an excuse to wear boots all the time. I also impulsively bought a squash at the co-op this week and am beginning to crave parsnips. Autumn!

But small talk of meteorology aside, you should all head over to the Cloud City Press site and read my poem, “Stuffed.” This is my first solicited publication, and I’m feeling pretty smug about it. You should also definitely read through Cloud City’s City Kids with Feelings posts, because they are hilarious little snippets of humanity.

Want some more quality reading material? Check out Whale Archivist. It is written by one of my lovely and brilliant friends from Paris; he has a healthy obsession with Moby Dick, sub-sub librarian endeavors, and short fiction.