Monthly Archives: September 2015

Now I Know What it Means to be a Woman

Oh, Stephanie. Don’t be silly. You’ve always known what it means to be a woman, right? You were born one.¬†You became one at fourteen when your new body forced upon you changes both expected and unwelcomed. You’ve always known, intangibly, … Continue reading

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Falling

Mosquito season. Ankles itching, I saw as the boy two weeks shy of six years old hurtled from the bench, forehead first a tiny, stupid comet out of eyeline, his face-mopping, pregnant mother busy with another baby brother. His feet … Continue reading

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Soundtrack

I wish I could write stepping into the weekend over school’s threshold with Scar Tissue’s pining guitar lining the lonely Sha Tin mountain view into words. It is a feeling. It is the feeling of not giving in. It is … Continue reading

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This Poem Might’ve Started Funny

I read my poetry at Orange Peel two weeks into my septum piercing, still tender and seven days before I had non-consensual sex the septum hurt more than the sex at least, physically and speaking physically I always thought I … Continue reading

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No More News II

I’ve seen that photograph so many times today. The first time took my breath away but then just like everyone else: how terrible, click away. Remember Tunisia? I felt sick about that too and Bangkok bomb blasts that shook my … Continue reading

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No More News

When I was young I had a book huge and tombstone-heavy, called CHRONICLE OF THE 20TH CENTURY Newspapers from every year. I read it feverishly and the breadth of human disaster seeped into me like a sponge. I think of … Continue reading

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There is (No) Hope

A dear friend is in SF, walking the bridge The helpline I walked in February and I said I’d never go back and I said I’d said goodbye to Fear, But I think now, balancing between crazy and no-so-good and … Continue reading

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