The Librarian

There is a librarian who organizes fluttering memories. The birds fly in with ebony words smeared on their wings and they always soar with more questions than answers; her thoughts are dust-covered dancers twirling behind crumbling books locked in skyscraper-shelves; she told me to look for your book yesterday and I peeled it open and…

To Love a Bird (Is to Paint Her Red)

I am azure-headed, ruby-breasted, emerald-winged. I flutter into your embrace, only God and His sun as my witnesses. You tell me that I dazzle color, even when my feathers are plucked, even when all that is visible is the white plumage beneath the surface. When my toes are ripped, you stitch them back; when my…

Happy Thanksgiving! (Plus A Little Box of Wishes)

If you live in the United States, you know that tomorrow is the blissful, food-filled day of Thanksgiving. Although every family upholds their own set of traditions, I thought I'd let you in on a personal tradition (one I started last year) that you can follow, too. There is a small, pale, wooden box that…

The Pains and Gains of College Writing

‘Tis the season for college applications. If you are a senior in high school or a transfer student, you are most likely in the midst of writing the most important essays (arguably) you will ever write in your life. More than anything, word count seems to be the bane of any student's existence. Supplemental essays…

Coffee & Company

Don’t fill up on coffee, she said, Because the grinds are too simple-- they sit in your stomach-- they rub your intestines like sandpaper. Coffee is straightforward and bitter like your grandmother’s humor. Instead, break the fast with orange juice-- something sweet yet sharp. Start your morning with a complication, hydrate your soul with sympathy…

What Makes “You” Powerful?

In writing, one may choose to use several different persons or perspectives to convey a story to a reader, including first person ("I"), second person ("you"), or third person ("they"). Many modern authors have experimented with writing in second person, in particular. But why? Why not just write traditionally, in more of an orthodox style?…

Lighthouse

Your eyes were staircases spiraling inside towering licorice lighthouses; I watched some nights when you’d pry open my craters and release my moths and let them collect on your glittering railings. Your pupils shined on my royal violet failings, but you always loved to blink my name.   Speaking of poetry, it's the middle of…