I could hear the waves crashing above me
as I dove into the deep, dark, sea.
I felt the coral so sharp,
as I saw my hand glazing over it.
There was silence everywhere,
yet at the same time, noise
sounded in all places.

Nobody knows what really goes on in her mind, her life. In school Sarah is always happy always smiling. To everybody that is Sarah. Home, Sarah is a little different. Home, Sarah is sad, lonely, mean. Every day she is hiding, hiding from those mean words, the icy glare, the horrible thoughts.

I’m Jewish, and my grandparents were in the Holocaust and it would be really different if they weren’t. My grandmother has a really amazing story as do many other Jews and non-Jews.

When the stars lose a
bit of their shine
And it comes down on Earth.
A horse will rise.
A horse white as moon.
With a mare grey as a
thundercloud.
Its hooves will sound
like thunder
When it canters across
the night sky,

Watch them...
The pink magnolia blossoms,
They’re so innocent
Yet we treat them without regards.

Watch us...
Our inner turmoil shaking us,
Like the wind does the magnolia blossom
Uncaring and inevitable.

I wanted to be like everyone else,
Smart, funny, cool.
But when do things cross the line,
From funny to mean,
Or even me to them?

But recently,
It grew harder not to cross the line.
 Harder to fit in.

I can handle Boogeymen. Pitched black darkness? Yeah, it doesn’t send a shiver down my spine. And spiders don’t scare me in the least. My childhood was never plagued with the ordinary fears that come with wiggly teeth and staying up past nine and times tables.

It doesn’t matter,
When the sun sets to the west
It doesn’t matter,
How fast the current is in
the ocean
It doesn’t matter,
When a storm passes through
the plains
It doesn’t matter,
The way stars twinkle in the
night sky

Groping onto the handrail, I climbed the cold, metallic stairs, my leather shoes brushing against it. Filled with anxiety, I scurried along the concrete floor to the other dancers. The world around me was black; the blue velvet curtains created a cloak of darkness, like the night.

A Giant
A Living Freak of Nature
A Redwood.
Tall, upstanding, huge, strong, ancient
At least
 2,400 years old
People look at it in wonder.
“Wow! Amazing!” They say
And I agree
But I don’t
I think it’s unbelievable and amazing too

Outside there’s a blizzard. We’re on the highway but we’re not moving. There are cars all around us. Five hours, each churns by minute after minute. Nothing to do but stay in the car and watch the snow blow by and try to fall asleep.

From dusk till dawn 
I search,

I look
From town to town,

This person I am told can give
A smile for every frown.

Up and down
These hills I look
I never seem to find

That person I am looking for,
Who is loving and so kind.

Look into my face and my eyes will
 More than that I’ll make you
I’ll slash and I’ll
and cut another hole in your mask.
And go around and make you scream.
Then I’ll make you jump.
And then you’ll trip over a bump.
Then you’ll turn around.

The sun beats down on the snow-covered Colorado peak. Two birds have a lengthy conversation, chirping short replies at one another like two young children arguing over who was first in line. Marmots run and play chase, screeching often out of frustration or to mock the opposition.

Mr. Raney was always a favorite of ours. Our neighborhood is one of the loveliest neighborhoods around. When he first moved in everyone breathed a sigh of relief because he moved into the ugliest and most neglected house on the street. We expected great things from him.

Staring into a vast,
 black emptiness
 counting sheep-1, 2, 3...
 Consciously lying under
 the matted black blanket,
 Until all consciousness
 has been lost out to sea.
 Soaring over mile-high waves
 of blue and green into the sunset,

She uncovers her eyes
She’s dying inside.
She’s starving from anticipation.
So much food wasted.
She paces the floor and drinks another glass of water.
She’s hardcore.
Her skin is tight.
She’s starting to show,

I awoke from the dream, still somewhat fatigued and ravenously hungry. The wheels beneath me stammered over the open road, bumping along like Morse code in tune to the music of the teenager seated beside me.

On the third day, we took the shortest way
Climbed a mountain and I stayed
Found my wings, and dropped down
While I died, heard a sound
And the sound told me things
That had once pulled my strings
Then I saw my true self