my works and words and things, take a gander
wretch
What a wretched house in a wretched place With wretched wood, Wretched walls, Wretched water What a wretched house in a wretched place Sitting in the dark woods, Water cold as winter, so cold it stings Old table, old chairs, Broken wood Wood not meant for kindling, but meant to be consumed all the…
quarter water
Dollar Tree finally closed It outlived Chuck-E-Cheese But probably had just as much piss stains Only difference is that in Dollar Tree it was largely adult urine staining the crevices of the aisles— God bless Dollar Tree for not having carpet everywhere You can mop sticky But Chuck-E-Cheese probably didn’t have enough coffee To sop…
sky
It was a Tuesday, and the man saw a pigeon. A pigeon was flying around over his head. He kept track of its travel by following it with his finger, tracing the trail it left, etching its marks in the sky so the pigeon’s movements would be saved in the clouds in case another bird…
The Phantasmagoria Ends
The phantasmagoria ends, The curtain falls. The phantasmagoria ends, The arcades close. The PHANTASMAGORIA ENDS, but this isn’t Paris. It’s not on fire anymore. I. disclaimer “THIS IS A [poem] ABOUT NEW YORK. IT MAY BE BRIEFLY DESCRIBED AS CONCERNING THE VICES AND LURES THAT THE CITY PROFFERED TO THE LOWER CLASSES IN THE [twentieth]…
Confession
Confession New York, 1972 Ricky was shaking in the confessional booth, hands clutching a rosary she bought from the dollar store. Wave after wave of nausea crept up her throat, and she did her best to keep the bile down. “How does this work, actually? I was raised Protestant, so I’ve never set foot in…
to eat, a verb
the Autocannibalist’s dinner Tonight I ate my tears. They tasted salty, the taste hitting my tongue with a sharpness that felt like glass. They were falling from my eyes and I had nowhere else to put them but my mouth. Tonight I ate my heart. It was tough, red and rare, just like a steak.…
toothpaste
You are not an individual. You are a collective. One might say you are legion, but I can’t bring myself to demonize you. You are the same as you always have been. You come over, we meet for the first time, again. I take you in, more than you do me, and— you leave. I…
Ten
Ten There’s a piece of gum that won’t get off my shoe no matter how hard I scrape it against the sidewalk. I think it attached itself to my shoe a few blocks back.It’s Sunday, and I’m listening to Ellie ramble like I always do whenever her brain goes too fast. As she paces back…
A New York Summer
i. sittin pretty the boys are taking me ‘round the city all i have to do is sit and look pretty the city’s big and moves fast, really, so the boys are taking me ‘round the city the girls are taking me ‘round the town all i have to do is look pretty and sit…
Love Poems (not to be confused with “A love poem,” written in 2018)
I wrote love poems when I wasn’t in love. I was yearning for it; I look back on those poems and know that the person who wrote them didn’t know what they were talking about. Granted, neither do I. They wrote about making jewelry out of flowers and cigarettes, about people they barely met who…
Smoky Water
Smoky water leaves a smoky taste in my mouth like there’s a cloud I can taste with my tongue. There are pockets of fire I can feel in my cheek, the taste of which makes me warm. We all drink the smoky water, let it sit in our bellies flow through us like a river.…
a ballad for Juneteenth
with an excerpt from “Lift Every Voice and Sing by James Weldon Johnson” “we have come” a great distance from where we started years and generations have passed since this date made what was then known as freedom concrete. we go “over a way that with tears have been watered” tear stained faces had looked…
The Apocalypse is Canceled
What if God canceled the apocalypse And we are supposed to decide How the world will go on What if we’re the ones Who are to decide what world we will create For ourselves and the future Avenging those who died Either for the cause or whose deaths incited the cause What if…
why, darling, i do believe the revolution has begun
i believe he was partly right that the revolution hasn’t been televised yet because it’s getting underway oh, darling, look at the news the people are getting restless we shouldn’t have to see people that look at us die brutally at the hands of those who are weak and despicable because their system lets them…
The Artist’s Descent
This only needs to be told in four parts I. Before The artist could write sentences better than this She could put together Coherent thoughts Ones that once sounded beautiful Or at least intelligible Before The artist didn’t have to cling to her sanity II. The Rip The world is on fire The…
regina
an ode to regina spektor’s early and unreleased work she sings of the gravediggers planting bones in the ground and i sit with my cross stitch pulling threads through the fabric her old songs her young mind my young mind a comfort i didn’t know i missed words that have sat in a song for…
When This is All Over
When this is all over, I’ll remind you I love you When this is all over, I’ll remind you to breathe When this is over, When the slate is clean, I’ll remind you that things aren’t always As bleak as they seem I When this is all over, We’ll go to the park And stay…
The Things I Know
You give me your words You hide in me your secrets You tell me the truth These are the things I know ‘ I know how you hurt I know why you bleed I know why it’s hard To say what you mean ‘ I know why you cried At the sight of that bird…
chaos magic pt. ii
The angel of plenty presides over the fountain where things can still be found long after they are left there. People and memories get left there, frozen in time, memories where the world—and the people in them—still believed that there was good. To the left and right of the angel lay two cornucopiae, filled to…
chaos magic pt. i
i pay homage to the magic that once was ours we had it held it harvested it treated it as if we were the progenitors of such but we were not worthy used and abused its power for our own withdrawals from such we may never recover we thought we spoke for the magic, but…
mister young old (portraits)
Ever the observant was mister young-old With his camera, he takes pictures of the world Keeps them in a little book, he’d show you if you asked Portraits of people he knows, places he wishes To know one day, with enough exploration and courage Ever the knowledgeable was mister young-old Traveling the world, gathering…
my room
My room is getting rid of me Trying to at least The light went out The covers ripped Keep tripping over things I think I myself am ready to leave I don’t have a choice The wide open space feels so cramped the silence, the vacant, the void My room is getting rid…
an old young woman thinks about time
I forget that we’re young That everything before us we haven’t touched That the future isn’t over for us Yet The news makes me forget We all have to look so old And so brave To be heard by those whose time Is ticking Ticking Away My reflection makes me forget I feel…
The Rising Wednesday Sun
For the past three years, I have been part of an incredible writing program, Girls Write Now. As my time with the program comes to a close, I would like to share my final project as part of the Digital Media Mentoring program’s 2019 digital anthology. Here is my final project, a three-part poem under…
villains
There’s a silly thing that happens When you make stories of each person you meet. Every so often, your brain conjures a villain. I am only a girl I make up worlds in my head. I can tell you a story The one I made of you I’ll tell you the one you’d like to…
i lost my marbles
I lost my marbles I threw them all about my floor Out of boredom I am lonely Only A lonely girl I make up worlds in my head I can tell you a story The story I made for you The story I made of you I’ll tell you the one you would like to…
The Weary Traveler’s Nightmare
https://youtu.be/AAq2tuC4zQY after forever and forever and forever and a day, I finally finished this song and video and I am very excited to present it to you. Enjoy!
Memories of a Potato
This is a combination of a memoir and a song (finally one I’m making public) and here it is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hdpNpzi4SIw&feature=youtu.be
to drown
erasure poetry of someone who once wished to be a mermaid. enjoy. http://philome.la/thewritersquil/to-drown
The Arts
While I was working on my mockumentary, I was not feeling well on one Saturday and decided to rewrite the whole thing. This is what came out of that—a script about how sometimes some arts are treated differently than others. The Arts
The Heist—Part 2
The well dressed men kept smiling. He was tall and had auburn hair and warm brown eyes. He had broad shoulders and he his coat was covered in little specks of snow and some had melted into droplets of water. There were some on his eyelashes but he blinked them away. “Hello, dearie,” one said…
Ghost Cat
There was a hush that spread across the restaurant as soon as she walked in. She walked straight to the bar, not paying attention to the stares of the people that followed her as if their eyes were glued to her. She ordered a water and sipped it slowly, hoping to ignore the whispers of…
The Heist—Part 1
London 1856 Violetta Carter crept across the floor, putting her laced gloves on carefully and slowly. Her porcelain face glowed in the moonlight. She had been a thief for so long, first stealing food as a poor orphan, later because it made her money so she wouldn’t have to eat out of the trash. The…
Metal Prize
the hunk of metal wheezed into the station. it could barely be considered as a prize, but it was, in a twisted way. the metal prize was filled with sardines, and the treat for winning was being packed in along with it. the smell was overwhelmingly awful—warm body odor crawls all over your skin as…
A Quest For a Prince—Storytelling with Code
http://www.philome.la/thewritersquil/a-quest-for-a-prince/play This is an interactive story about knights and dragons. (The title is incredibly misleading.)
valentine 