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Brown maple leaves in my hands,

They said the whole world lay ahead.

I felt like a 70’s album cover,

The girl with a second chance. 

Professors and their ideologies,

Supposed to let them mold and shape us-


What if

They can’t fill the shoes we’ve imagined for them?

One, she speaks so eloquently.

Lulls me into a trance,

British lilt as I hear the life behind the art.


History drank a glass of water!

Now I’m all ears.

Another, drunk on his title,

Parades about eschewing fiction as if it’s fact.

We all smirk a little,

General consensus agrees.

A peacock in a lecture hall is quite odd.

Such a range, these are the ones cultivating future days.

For us to wade through and decipher,

Voices to follow and ones to block.

Legs criss cross under the tree outside,

All this freedom…


Steam rises from streets on 5th Avenue,

I’m walking over stoplight reflections, 

trapped by introspection. 

Tonight’s bound to last forever, 

clock slows down, 

sun drops below ground. 

When I’m lucky, 

I soar,

 yet I always get pulled back to this war. 

Timeless fight, 

I read how the soul climbs out of the potholes and stares ahead. 

Lungs fill with sweet acid rain while steel boxes slide back and forth. 

Paper boat heading down a gutter on the other side,

into the depths along with my pride. 

If there’s a cavalry, would they know where to find me? 

Tell them, if you can, 

I’ll be in the middle of Central Park,

 sailing paper boats. 

“Sapphire Nights”

Some days we run wild while others find us in a corner,

Chasing dreams at 3am or hiding from our deepest fears,

We ought to crave the same thing.

Our rightful space.

Moments to shine.

Careening into a black sky,

Setting it ablaze.

Storms have done their worst and I’ve weathered them at a price,

Looks like everyone lost a bit of their mind.

Sometimes I’d like to be in the wide open at midnight-

Stars overhead and emptiness for days.

A current strong and true,

Pulsing all around me into the ground beneath my feet.

Cacti for miles and silhouettes of jagged mountain tops illuminated in sapphire nights.

“Unwanted Souvenirs”

Old scars that scream to be seen. 

Feel their jagged ridges and seams,

They live in a house with no door,

Dormant for months or years-Suddenly,

 the nerve to reappear without so much as an invitation.

Uneven lines, able to trek seamlessly through time. 

Their demise is just a lie,

But getting by is what I do,

Pulling up off the ground when it looks like the end.

An ace of beginning again. 

My collection, quite the expanse.

Not for display, only a reminder of life that transpired. 

Each onslaught, ironically laying groundwork.

Vision is clarified when turned inside out. 

Unbidden, these brands in my heart have worn a niche,

In the house with no door. 

When I Can’t Fly

Just manage to breathe,

One voice says its ok to set it free,

Another one follows behind and suggests that it’s not that easy.

Dark days even when the sun shines,

These are different times.

With an aching soul and no relief in sight,

I’m looking up with my eyes shut tight.

Whispering to you,

Making sure you can still hear me,

That you’re still near me.

Hold my hand and steady my mind,

I’ve never been through anything like this time.

I”m guessing it’s like the rest, the ones where you keep going.

Hour by hour, it’s all I can manage, but you already know,

So I hold on and pick up my pen.

Carry me when I can’t fly,

Keep me