Imposter syndrome taunts in a voice that sounds exactly like mine. Anxiety hands it a microphone. ADHD plays 52 card pick up with my thoughts- hyperfixates on negativity. Invisible illness renders me too damn tired to fight back. Capitalism builds an entire amphitheater for the performance finds a way to fill the seats and profitContinue reading “My least favorite thing about being an artist is continually convincing myself I am not one.”
Tag Archives: spoken word
I am talking to my mom about a partner.
she stops me mid story to play a guessing game ‘Wait! Wait! I want to get them all right!‘Who has a kid on the way?’‘Oh! Oh! he’s the bartender, isn’t he?’‘Who lives in New York?’‘What’s her name?’ this is love:my motheradapting in real timeto a future she couldn’t have imagined for me. loveabundantetherealomnipotent I wasn’tContinue reading “I am talking to my mom about a partner.”
it’s been a year of years.
time, head down concentrating- lacing their shoes like a fever-dream I trip over sometimes, I look at the people I love and I see cheekbones and eyelashes. smiles brave and worn. In recent weeks I smile at myself in the mirror every single time I step out of the shower. (it’s liberating to unhold aContinue reading “it’s been a year of years.”
Polyamory: noun:
The philosophy or state of being in love or romantically involved with more than one person at the same time. Says the Oxford new American dictionary I say it is a series of questions Sometimes in the form of People Other times in their natural form: questions would you ever ask a parent to chooseContinue reading “Polyamory: noun:”
It is widely known that sunflowers bend towards the sun
it isn’t true but I wish it were, that when they can’t find it, they turn towards one another. As my friend bikes across the entire city so we can trade books and sit six feet apart, I’m sure humans do that exact thing. In a pandemic, there are still poetry readings and celebrations. InContinue reading “It is widely known that sunflowers bend towards the sun”
There is a certain kind of tired that only comes from arguing with your own body continuously
please open the jar don’t sit down yet just don’t call off again this week I am thirty-four and I have the hand strength of a fifty-three year old. I am thirty-four and age means nothing in the face of chronic illnesses. When my DNA was coded, my connective tissue was made too loose. NowContinue reading “There is a certain kind of tired that only comes from arguing with your own body continuously”
I am somewhere beyond this existence.
the walls are made of flowers holding hands. no one gets grief for holding anyone else’s hand here you’re allowed to feel whatever you feel cry in any gender and still be seen as strong we know nothing of prejudice, capital, or constraint here save historical examples archaic relics, reminders of who we will neverContinue reading “I am somewhere beyond this existence.”
“Doesn’t it get very exhausting, viewing the world through that angry feminist lens?”
or, alternatively titled, ‘a study on how to dissect my anger and find it villain,’ find it too sharp, too mirror too reflective and you didn’t really want to see yourself as the problem did you so instead it is me and I am told to put on something else like maybe it would beContinue reading ““Doesn’t it get very exhausting, viewing the world through that angry feminist lens?””
When I laugh it is a holy sound
It is the thing I do in rebellion to the many things that try to trim my joy and sometimes gouge and sometimes win so when I smile, It is vast like the solar system stretched like a big top tent, wide as a tug boat pulling everything I’ve ever been right alongside me andContinue reading “When I laugh it is a holy sound”
My shame is a mold that only grows in the parts of me I refuse to shed light on
refuse to talk about. I need a better flashlight a braver mouth a new dictionary to find fresh words to form familiar sounds in new ways. I write a lot of poems about growth but have you ever loved something so much you didn’t notice it never loved you back? sometimes, I’m so focused onContinue reading ” My shame is a mold that only grows in the parts of me I refuse to shed light on”
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