Is it possible for a dead person Who is alive, To be a ghost? Because sometimes I see you, Dark haired and laughing near a train, And you vanish into a stranger Going Northbound. Daddy is that you? Sitting on my bed And tipping over paint cans And opening closed doors, And leaving me coins... Continue Reading →
Dreams
I never used to remember what happened in my dreams, Or dwell on them when I awoke. But lately, the images within them have become More vivid and disturbing Than ever before. Suddenly, I am back in relationships with bad boyfriends Who I've forgotten both love me and hate me. I even fall for their... Continue Reading →
New Characters?
I've been struggling with the aesthetic of the characters for a while now and I've constantly asked myself How should I bond the character with it's character poetry? I've gone from numbering each line of poetry and printing its corresponding number on the back of the characters, to simply writing down the poem in a book.... Continue Reading →
End of the Month: An excerpt from Porridge: A Memoir
"I'd be good to you," he says to me over bites of sushi and spilled soy sauce. "I'm good to me," I tell him and stare down at my roll. I hopped off a bus less than an hour ago to visit a city I had once been so connected to. The boy I am... Continue Reading →
Grab a Bowl
I visited my hometown yesterday: My hands became cold as I climbed off the bus. This place never gave me any comfort, just anxiety. l/r
Bad Poetry
Bad Poetry is a term I use to refer to a series of tragic, ironic and consistent events that occur within a character's life, without conscious reason, but simply for the pleasure and entertainment of the Gods. It can be found on that particular morning when your alarm clock fails to go off, where you miss... Continue Reading →
Soon popsicles and lemon drops became too sweet and I realized, my father too, preferred hot tea.
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Legacy (Revised)
Legacy Along the walls of the white cube, Are photographs From the life of Alvah Goldbook. They howl at strangers from their polished frames, And lonely places on the walls: Consoling, inspiring, revealing Nothing but mystery and mysticism. Portraits and papers from old cameras and typewriters Jagged, torn, worn and wrinkled, Once ripped—indifferently— By a... Continue Reading →
School Girls
School Girls Sometimes I wish I had your cynicism And could laugh at everyone with you and the girls. I put on my bitchest face and pretend to hate Everything with a pulse, But my jokes aren’t heard and my comments seem ignorant, Because I don’t read underground publications, About feminist injustice, or cultural appropriation.... Continue Reading →
Famous Last Words 