2010s · All the Tiny Anchors · Anchors (Poetry with Music) · Poetry · Recordings

5:38

I keep smiling while I read them. All three texts. Sitting at a Greek place with coworkers at a long table for fifteen. Middle aged women and their husbands are asking about you. They all want to meet the man who put stars under my skin. I just told them about the place we found with 30 minute lines down the block, where they create gourmet pizza to order. All of them want to try it. Three texts at once isn’t like you. The waiter sets the cheese on fire and everyone is opening their mouths at the flames. I’m still burning on fumes from last Sunday when you’d kissed me full enough for days. I had felt lucky all week, lucky enough for months. I read them now. I keep smiling, but I am losing the ability to hear. My head goes underwater as our table splits like an aquarium wall, everyone else on the outside. All at once I am wishing there was a magic portal to stop time, an alarm clock for waking up, cameras to be revealed as a cruel joke played. Someone must have stolen your phone, is holding you hostage, making you text those things in English I cannot translate. I have to leave immediately. I leave my coat. I leave my purse. Leave my untouched food on the plate. I try to climb into the circuits of my phone, step through satellites, make you look me in the eyes. Make you face me when you fire that gun.

 

First published in Carnival Lit Mag, also in All the Tiny Anchors.
Listen on SoundCloud.

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2010s · Poetry

Sonic Screwdriver

for Josh

I wish I had a sonic screwdriver
I wish I had a magic wand
I wish I had a time machine
or pixie dust or a book of spells

I wish I had a genie lamp
I wish I had the holy grail
I wish I had a flying carpet
or a portal or an Atlantis key

I wish you were three
in the back seat of my car
singing an 80s Cure song

I wish you were sixteen
driving with me to open mic
singing an 80s Cure song

I wish my love was enough
I wish you weren’t there
I wish you and me were anywhere
far and away, anywhere else

Originally published in Carnival Lit Mag, 2014

2015 · Publications

velvet-tail

Elephant on Velvet-Tail This is a poetry website unlike any other I have seen. The editor, Canese Jarboe, creates handmade collages to compliment the poetry she showcases on the site. She has graciously accepted “Elephant”, a poem of mine, and created a beautiful frame of leaves and flowers. She feels the leaves evoke the texture of elephant skin. The photo here is merely a glimpse. You need to visit velvet-tail.com for yourself to see my poem as well as other pieces displayed with her creative vision.

Events · Feature Readings

Moon Pixel Open Mic on February 27th, 2015

10915227_777724065608035_3081797914912405273_n On Friday, February 27th, I will be featuring at a wonderful new monthly reading series, Moon Pixel Open Mic. I am especially excited because my dear friend and kick-ass assistant editor of CadenceCollective.net, Raquel Reyes-Lopez is hosting. As if that wasn’t enough, I will be joined by the sultry dream weaver, Elmast Kozloyan. There will be a musical feature and an open mic list. It will be at Half-Off Books in Whittier, which has the most incredible selection of new and used books, comics, and even music! Plan on arriving early to sign up beginning at 6:30 and the reading will start at 7 pm.

Half-Off Books 6708 Greenleaf Ave, Whittier, California.

2010s · All the Tiny Anchors · Poetry

Westwood Boulevard (Why I Can’t Go Back)

I.

because I’d have too many questions
like does her husband know
have you ever met her children
do your parents know about her
does she hate your new car
or your new 60-inch TV
does she love the extra 20 pounds
I left behind

II.

because I know exactly
how small your ass really is
how you taste in the shower
how your eyes are lost
first thing in the morning
how you loved those thin pillows
from World War II
how you bought a fat one
just for me
how I know you really meant it
at the time

III.

because I’m still counting days
they are all anniversaries
of first times, of last times
of times we drove for no reason
my calendar dates lay over
like a transparency
so it’s all how-long-since
how-many-days-until-it’s-been
and every case on People’s Court
mentions November and Hurricane Sandy
then we’re standing there on the Boulevard
you said we need to talk
find some place for dinner
we missed our movie
I could unmake plans with you all weekend
it was cold enough to wear a sweater

I can almost count the hours

IV.

because I forgot to hate you
though you really wished I would

V.

because I told everyone
with eyes or ears near these words
I spoke you out loud
I own my story—this is mine
I will love it long after your scent
is rubbed off my page

First published in Tic-Toc Anthology (Kind of a Hurricane Press).

2015 · Events · Publications · Special Projects

Like a Girl: The Pre-Show!

LaG The Pre Show
Cover art by Fernando Gallegos

For the last several months, my poetry partners, Nancy Lynée Woo, Terry Wright, and I have been working on a project very near and dear to us, Like a Girl: Perspectives on Feminine Identity. This second anthology from Lucid Moose Lit received almost 800 submissions of poetry, prose, and art. We struggled to narrow that number down to an amount we can work with, so a grand alternative was found! We created a zine version, Like a Girl: The Pre-Show!, in time for release at the LA Zine Fest on February 15th. Debbie Cho, who helped inspire the project, joined us to help design and layout our precious creation. We are a proud family giving birth to a beautiful zine full of the words and art of many members of our community. I even have a little piece about those silly jelly shoes! You can pick up a special limited release version at the LA Zine Fest or other local events we will be participating in. Perfect bound editions will soon be available on Amazon and in local indie bookstores. To find the most recent information about this or other related projects, go to LucidMooseLit.com!

 

2010s · 2015 · Poetry · Publications

Passing Sounds Fade

Cadence Collective: Long Beach Poets

Blue Angel 2

By Sarah Thursday

The heavy of his arm around
her shoulders, the lack of weight—
how it sits there like a machine
fitting, clock-watch piece.
The dust in his voice lies
thick under her chest.
She knows his closet is full
and the bodies are fresh
but she presses against
the door with him. Spring
cleaning is months away. It’s fall now,
so she presses her hands to his
warm coat, her hands against
his chest feel beat to breath—
beat to breath
. Close her eyes
and pray to an unknown god,
pray the planes will pass,
pray he isn’t looking back.

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2010s · Poetry · The Unnamed Algorithm

View at 4 A.M.

You, a landscape sloping
down into soft valleys
where I trace your bare
terrain outlined in moonlight,
I rest on your dark side
how you speak clearest
in silence still as mountain tops
I, lying in your slant night,
an eager traveler pulling
at your dawn, sunrise us—
turn and move earth in me.

First published in Cliterature.