I’m currently sitting in DC’s Airport, suffering through a ten hour layover before returning to school. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten something together to go on this blog. I’ve been busy being a mediocre Resident Advisor at my university and trying to muddle my way through four reading intensive classes. It was a long but fruitful semester. Onward and upward~
It’s 3am and I’m feeling antsy. My blog has been barren, that’s one reason I’m writing this. But the other reason I’m so energized to put some of my writing out there is because I’ll soon be published by two wonderful publications: Vagabond City & The Fem. You can just glance at their pages and see they have some amazing artists featured–I’m so amazed that I’ll be sharing space with them soon. It’s something I’m both excited and anxious about…. it’s the first time my poetry has been accepted from a submissions process. Firsts are always a mix of emotions, I guess.
So anyway, I’m sitting in this airport on a heating vent because it’s freezing and I’m typing up this writing journal I just finished filling (a weird ritual I have). This poem just feels really good right now. I feel pretty good right now. I hope the rest of 2016 can keep looking up. I hope you do too.
WHY I WRITE POETRY
after Major Jackson’s poem of the same name
because shadows on this hill are beautiful and never look the same. because I fall easily into being mother goose.
because no one calls me silly duckling anymore.
I never minded the overgrowth.
some architecture brings me to tears.
because singing loudly and out of tune makes me a whole person. so do soft flannels, reading aloud, sweet wine, someone else saying my name, muji pens, writing it all down.
the ocean is there, somewhere, not here.
because there are still so many books to write, even when we’ve heard something like it 100 times before.
because there are always gentler.
because at times only ice water satisfies me.
drugs and addiction exist. sometimes they live separately.
because addiction is never alone and is always lonely.
I am living. taking up space. still confused. still identifying.
because I keep moving and keep picking up the same tacky habits.
because sometimes I find more.
I am not aware of how to be what everyone wants me to be.
because leaning how would kill me.
doing it might save me in all the wrong ways.