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New York Packing List
May. 17th, 2025 10:52 pmearplugs, for the sirens;
a needle and thread to sew the hole in his Princess Jasmine squishmallow;
a necklace so i can ask him to put it on for me,
baring the nape of my neck to his slender fingers
and ask him to take it off at the end of the night too;
polaroids, so i can see the world through his eyes and he can see
the world through mine;
my glass nail file, slanted nail clippers, and cuticle pusher
because his hands peel at the edges ;
both computers;
bug spray, but i think i need to buy it there
because there is a 3 oz limit;
my sister's clothes;
my sister's backpack;
the justice shorts i'm wearing right now, fishnets, and thigh high striped socks
a needle and thread to sew the hole in his Princess Jasmine squishmallow;
a necklace so i can ask him to put it on for me,
baring the nape of my neck to his slender fingers
and ask him to take it off at the end of the night too;
polaroids, so i can see the world through his eyes and he can see
the world through mine;
my glass nail file, slanted nail clippers, and cuticle pusher
because his hands peel at the edges ;
both computers;
bug spray, but i think i need to buy it there
because there is a 3 oz limit;
my sister's clothes;
my sister's backpack;
the justice shorts i'm wearing right now, fishnets, and thigh high striped socks
(no subject)
May. 5th, 2025 10:50 pmtriolet
a poem of eight lines, typically of eight syllables each, rhyming abaaabab and so structured that the first line recurs as the fourth and seventh and the second as the eighth.
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a poem of eight lines, typically of eight syllables each, rhyming abaaabab and so structured that the first line recurs as the fourth and seventh and the second as the eighth.
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1.
2.
3.
4.
5.
6.
7.
8.
a day at the pier (first draft)
Apr. 20th, 2023 01:12 amassorted bins of individually wrapped saltwater taffy in tangerine, red, gray, green, cola, blue
i pick you out– dark chocolate– will i like it? i don’t know.
i’m like you, but i’m still on the puller, arm outstretched, leg bent back, your hand
running over mine, my finger trailing peaks and valleys that i know.
the ribbons in my hair that fall across the nape of my neck, get twisted
and eventually, i collapse, but i’m dying to know
if the thought of me
remains like a sugar sore
lingering on the roof of your mouth
if we were crossing lines
moving past each other that once briefly aligned; if you’re like me. but i know.
you tell me we can get on the carousel together, but i’m tired of riding,
i’ve done it a thousand times, i want to get off, but you’re the operator as far as i know.
the smell of the ocean breeze leaves a bitter taste in my mouth,
and i dive head first and you don't follow because you stopped telling me to, but i already know.
i am tired of pretending like i don’t, like we don’t, because we speak more to each other
through the silence. don’t you think i know what’s going on? i knew, i always knew, and i still know.
i pick you out– dark chocolate– will i like it? i don’t know.
i’m like you, but i’m still on the puller, arm outstretched, leg bent back, your hand
running over mine, my finger trailing peaks and valleys that i know.
the ribbons in my hair that fall across the nape of my neck, get twisted
and eventually, i collapse, but i’m dying to know
if the thought of me
remains like a sugar sore
lingering on the roof of your mouth
if we were crossing lines
moving past each other that once briefly aligned; if you’re like me. but i know.
you tell me we can get on the carousel together, but i’m tired of riding,
i’ve done it a thousand times, i want to get off, but you’re the operator as far as i know.
the smell of the ocean breeze leaves a bitter taste in my mouth,
and i dive head first and you don't follow because you stopped telling me to, but i already know.
i am tired of pretending like i don’t, like we don’t, because we speak more to each other
through the silence. don’t you think i know what’s going on? i knew, i always knew, and i still know.