When People-Watching

There is a certain type of beauty to the morning, a certain sense of gratefulness as the world peels open its encrusted eyes. The continents untuck themselves from oceanic blankets and mumble, Thank God we’re alive. Thank God we’re breathing. Africa bangs on the head of a drum– Antarctica shivers and Australia stretches its arms…

Violin {My First Prose Poem}

The circuits are twitching again. I can feel the currents jump through my veins and under my arteries, shove past my capillaries. It anchors around my knee caps, my thin shoulders, my breaking spine. “You know, it’s not a wish bone for a reason.” No, but it is mine. The currents squirm between tissue, zap…