Category: Writing

Let This Much Be Mine

The heat, the blessed sun. Let this much be mine. The morning dew, the cobwebs, the yellowing leaves. My breath, my wrinkled skin, my shaky

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My Kitchen

For me, the center of my house was the kitchen. At first our kitchen was this dreadful afterthought of a growth hung onto the side

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Potatoes

There is a pot on the stove, steam rising. A dry smell emits itself and the children ask, “What’s for dinner?” Potatoes and Chicken. Potatoes

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I think it’s brave

I think it’s brave that you go to Whole Foods even though you might run into someone you know and have an awkward conversation about

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Where I am from

Where I am from (I really wish I had more photos–working on it) I am from the Hackensack River and its tributary, the creek which

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Hush Child and Listen

Hush Child and listen (rough draft) You don’t listen enough and sometimes you listen too much so that you are underlistening and sometimes overlistening–what is

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1974 Vacation

1974 Vacation Remember when family holidays were the coolest thing ever? Most likely this was before you turned thirteen, and still liked your parents at

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Why I write

Why I write I write because my silence is painful. I write because truth is better than lies. I write because there is so much

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