There are people working on a puzzle. They are contributing pieces to the whole picture so that they can look at it together. There is also a person who is tightly holding on to a puzzle piece they’ve found. It is all they’re aware of, all they can see. They won’t contribute to the largerContinue reading “Just One Piece of the Puzzle”
I wonder if there’s a difference between a poet and a writer.They speak of the poet’s heart, but what do they mean?There are times when prose feels so stilted to me,When I crave the fluidity of line breaks,The freedom to not be understood fully,The convention to break convention,The magic of diving underwaterTo retrieve a poemContinue reading “I’ve Never Allowed Myself to Only Be a Poet Because I’ve Always Felt That Wasn’t Enough”
Content note: this piece focuses on the COVID-19 pandemic. I open a new tab to check the numbers. I open a new tab to check the numbers. It’s the morning, and I open a new tab to check the numbers. It’s the afternoon, and I open a new tab to check the numbers. It’s theContinue reading “New Tab”
I was sick last night. I lay on the bathroom floor for hours, shaking. Something went wrong in my body and I felt it in every part of me. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was alone. I lay there and cycled through the following: I wish this wasn’t happening, I wish this wasn’t happening, what’s wrong, when is it going to stop, what did I do wrong, why is this happening, I wish this wasn’t happening…
There’s something thrilling about sharing intimate details about your existence with complete strangers online. I have the option of keeping my personal writing safely tucked away in a journal but like the idea of the world-at-large having access to it. Why is that?