All Library locations will be closed Monday, June 19th for the Juneteenth holiday.
My most vivid recollections of China are filled with fond memories and blissful experiences. The smell of smoke and frying foods wafts through the air, and at night the streets are a disorienting mess of flashing billboards and street lights.
The world is large, but so am I.
An ocean of confused compassion
rolls through my veins,
and I balance boulders
on unmanicured fingertips.
I wish I had trauma that I could spin into a story,
a story that would grip your thoughts tighter than leather binding,
Something I could rip to shreds, over-analyze in the margins,
sew back together, and send off to the publisher before I tear myself apart.
the vents in my grandmother's old car blow
cigarette smoke at my left knuckles
and right forearm.
there's something so cold about crawling back to the house and home
where Caroline kicked me out for borrowing her water bottle
claymation in six scenes.
Margaret finds out she is made of clay when she presses into the crook of her elbow and pulls the flesh right off.
The blood drips down my thighs in fighting harmonies.
Disagreeing on the weight in which to debilitate me, its desire to hurt me.
My body clenches, a shooting pain transforms me.
Demanding to immobilize me.
i have my father’s temper, my father’s eyes.
i keep my bloody birthrights in a clear glass jar.
all the things i’ve laid claim to with my mother’s fingers;
long, pale, five on each hand, like real people have.
Every Saturday, after work, I visit my grandmother at her nursing home. It’s about a half an hour drive to get there, but it’s worth the drive. Grandma G isn’t the normal nursing home type you’d think of: sweet, unsuspecting, a kind of elderly innocence.
I can’t remember
why pink ice cream
smells of lakes
and trips to grandma’s house
I have no memory
of cherry chocolate chunk ice cream melting
in my mouth
I lick my fingers
just to make sure
I’ve gotten the last drops
But you need it, you said. I thought you wanted to be beautiful. I slammed my hands on the wheel of your Land Rover and pulled over to the side of the road near the big houses with green lawns and trampolines, Norfolk Way.
A ransacked village in India is where my lineage began
Women, I will
Can never, ever know.
Tribulations my western brain
They made me.
I have the blood of
Pouring all of the liquor you can find in the house down the drain is the most fun the daughter of an alcoholic can have without attending therapy. Isn’t that how the saying goes?
Fighting never ends…
Words back and forth…
What will come next?
Why do I put up with it at all?
What to do?
Why try anymore?
What is the point of things?
What should I do to fix things?
I need help…
Want it to be better…
He woke up shivering, the cold hard floor having been his bed for the night. His brain throbbed as he pushed himself up, making it hard to remember what last happened. He held his head in his hands as he thought it over until an eerie sob bounced off the walls.
“A breath, a sigh, she closes her eyes,
hearing the forest saunas around her,
yonder the sum set the sky on fire,
the stars/lew higher...”
I’m a new york kid. there i was born and raised. outside on the block that’s where i spent most of my days, but now my vision’s in a haze. my mom said, what i’m going through is just a phase, but i know now that’s not the case.
“Davidson! That tree is flying! It’s going to crash into your house,” Gary warned me. “You’re right, Mr. Franklin, and here, it’s coming in for a landing,” I replied with calm reserve.
Inside the window, a family you’ll see
A mother, a father, brothers, and
dogs as earsplitting as can be
But this family is the best
Superior to all the rest
Because this family has a bond
We’re all rather fond of
Stick together through harsh times
Anxiously tearing open the
shimmering sealed package
Ignoring die red symbols
that embellish the wrappage
Considering this cookie holds
my future unknown
Depending on the message
I’m sure to cheer or moan
My Mom opens one of Happiness
I sit in my bed,
Rain pouring outside,
Sadness of the past flooding through my windows,
The night that my father left,
The day he decided I did not matter,
At a young age,
I was left alone,
On a rainy night like this one,
Uncle Felix grew up in a small town called Shinzhu, located on the north side of Taiwan. His family was not able to afford extra clothing or toys or even to pay for his education. Uncle Felix learned to take what life gave him, and to always look on the bright side of things.
Used and abused
Still standing strong
You are the one I lean on
Who knows how to turn it around
With me through thick and thin
No matter what, where, or when
The pain of being without you
Day by day, I’m deteriorating
There for me, my dad
“No matter what,” he promised
By my side
Refusing to ever give up on me - no matter what I did
If everyone else gave up
My Dad would stand by me
Telling me he believes in me
Knows I am strong
To think positively