When the Day Met the Night: A Poem

“All was golden in the sky
All was golden when the day met the night”
–Panic! at the Disco


When the sky is the ocean
and the dandelions are the suns far away,
I find my self slipping into love
with no one.

When the sky is a marigold
and the leaves are the petals,
I can’t help but feel that, somewhere,
waiting, are my pending loves.

When the sky is inside my heart
and the branches are the throbbing veins,
I realize my eyes are blazing
because none of my promised kisses have arrived.

When the sky is the blindfold
and the sidewalks are the drought in my lashes,
I find no one slipping into love
with me.


In the Margins of Divinity: A Poem

Paint me a sky

with a wide, wide, black, black watercolor

Draw me an earth

with fine pastels,

with light colors and light touches

Sketch me in on the horizon

give me a long dress

make sure my hair

is blowing in the wind

Infuse every emotion you find

with swirls of the deepest, deepest sadness

spinning bits of love

and orange

for every moment in my life that burns

Doodle me a paradise

with thick spots of ink, birds

across the clouds

Illustrate a pair of wings for me

that sprout from my back

Make them white and

let me fly

Give me a million feathers

that will glow

against the wide, wide, black, black

Create a universe,

a safe haven

for me to rest and run away

Paint a sky, and an earth,

harsh, and soft, and cold, and warm,

Form my figure

out of the tip of your pencil



that I am alone there

An Infinite Landscape

Picture 8

I bet if I could reach up and touch the sky, it would feel like velvet.

I would grab it in great big fistfuls and lick my fingers clean because the aroma of blackberries would be too sweet to resist.

Every time my fingertips would run through it, trails of phosphorescent stars would fall in lines behind.

I would leave long stripes of twinkling glitter across the black, which planes and planets would fly between, blinking red and blue.

The silhouetted treetops would tickle my chin as I would trace a map from the Big Dipper to Polaris, from Taurus to Cassiopeia, to everywhere and back again.

Silence would fill my ears and clog the air where I’m sitting, and I would cry with dark smears of fruit across my cheeks and a soft sensation against my palms because this purple universe we live in has no boundaries.

You and Me

Once upon a time, two people fell in love

in a place flooded with light.

The grass was littered with dandelions,

and he picked them and made her a bouquet.

He said, “For the lovely mystery

whose hair glitters in the sun,”

and he gave her the flowers.

She said, “For the handsome vision

whose eyes sparkle in the starlight,”

and she gave him her hand.

Quietly, they pressed their fingers together,

watching the sun disappear behind infinity.

The moon came to fill the hole in the sky

and brought a purple blanket.

He said, “The moon is ours.”

She said, “The sky is ours.”

They fell onto their backs and

watched the comets fly by in his pale irises.

Each time, she made a wish.

In the morning, he woke to the sight

of rainbows. Gently, he touched his hand

to the diamonds of her pale curls.

In the morning, she woke to the sight

of a closed smile and put her lips to it.

He said, “You are the wonders of the world.”

She said, “You are everything that is right.”

He said, “You are the allure of the day.”

She said, “You are the splendor of the night.”

Breathing: A Poem


The city in the clouds glows

at sunset.

The air is thin as it

goes through your lips and teeth,

the clouds dampen you with icy shards.

They have wind machines for sidewalks

that push you up when you want to fall.

I lived there

when I was very young,

and always wondered what the ground felt like.

There was a whisper, once,

of an elusive edge somewhere far from the heart of the city,

a long walk that way.

So I got granola bars, cans of beans,

a pocket knife, a lighter,

sunglasses, a scarf, a hat,

in a bag.

I put my feet in front of each other,

one after the other,

like we learn before thoughts of walking long walks,

to find my escape.

The wind was always there.

It held me back, like the fingers that clawed

into my arms as I walked.

My toes shuffled over thin air.

And the sky glowed at sunset.

One of Those Nearly Perfect Days

Today was perfect. Or at least close.

Don’t get me wrong…the guy of my dreams didn’t pledge his love to me, I didn’t win the lottery, I didn’t meet the cast of my Harry Potter. But it was still a pretty great day.

When I walked out first thing in the morning, I was physically shocked with the warmth. Picture 4The sky was a vibrant shade of deep blue, even with the clouds, and the trees were silhouetted just so. It was otherworldly. I felt like I had fallen asleep and had been transported to a dream, and I had a strange euphoria that comes along with the feeling of being in a dream (unless I’m the only one who gets that).

All morning felt sort of surreal, and I think it was from the weather. I kept glancing out the windows and wishing I was outside with the blue sky and the black trees and the cloudy quilt. The thought of the warmth of nature through my jacket and against my skin made me feel like where I was inside was a prison complex.

And then, when I was nearing the end of my time locked up, it began to rain outside. It didn’t start with a drizzle or a quiet roll, it was spontaneous with thunder and lightning and water. But, instead of being deathly afraid, as I usually would be, I wanted to go and run around like an idiot in the pouring rain. Maybe it had something to do with Spanish class. Don’t most things?

The wet sidewalks (wet, not damp) didn’t bother me, and, in fact, they only added to the experience of the day. I can’t be totally sure why, but the puddles were okay. Even though I was wearing suede boots.

The only things that could have made this day better were listed above. But for a Tuesday, it really was almost perfect.

Ciao for now,