Category: writing

  • Day 4: this is not a poem

    this morning i found an orange blossom resting on the ground. orange blossom is such an intoxicating scent; it burns into my sinuses with sweetness. sometimes i fantasize about wandering through an orange grove with someone, snagging a handful of blossoms, and crushing them against the places where his pulse hums beneath his skin. i…

  • Happy National Poetry Month!

    Woof. What a century 2025 has been already. It’s April, everything is scary AND in bloom. The birds and the bugs and the furry critters are feeling frisky. The mercury is creeping up. Everything is scary. It’s APRIL. And everything is scary. (It’s okay to be scared, exhausted, anxious, numb, confused, or however else you’re…