Author: poetryfest

Perched on an iron rafter overlooking
this supersized suburb of China,
a sparrow stares at the sesame seed bagels.
He twitches, repulsed by the glue traps
so close to the contraceptives,
the hometown pharmacist hoarding Sudafed,
Ol’ Roy dog food.
He is ignored by the blue cashiers
and the yellow assistant managers,
just another minor health code violation
pecking on celery, shitting on hand sanitizers.
He is just another Tuesday.

Every second it’s noon in every Walmart Store,
enormous lights directly overhead so bright
the blind regain their sight.
The sparrow makes dusty gray shadows
flying over the rifles and swiffers,
the clearance rack of unclaimed five dollar
Starter basketball shorts and mesh tops,
all the same size, small.
A thousand people and one sparrow
pass the isles today, misfortune
bringing them all together.
We all have our special needs in the Walmart Store.
We save money, we live better,
we are the one boss, the customer.
We are the new romantic spirits
summoned with our receipts in our plastic bags
to Yelp our shopping experiences:

I would rate zero stars but not an option.
I’m tired of being treated as guilty by default.
Not one of these people said sorry you hurt yourself.
It reminds me of the mistake K-mart made in the 90’s. Now who shops there?
Beware. Walmart only sells tobacco products and alcohol to Americans.
Try to remember they handle hundreds of thousands maybe millions of transactions every day
and every once in a while something will go horribly wrong.

Sometimes I wish I could just sleep all day,
Or perhaps for 100 years.
I wonder who would notice?
Would anyone?
Who watched over Briar?
Who held her hand, waiting for her to wake?
Who fell asleep each night, hoping that when they woke, she’d finally wake too?
When did they give up on her,
And move on with their lives?
Or were they never there to begin with?
Had they already given up on her the first day she didn’t wake up?
Or did they not care enough to check?
Have they
Already given up
On me?

The life of a dancer
Dancer in life
The love for my body
Then There Was Modern Jazz Dance…
The Art in the Journey of a Dancer
Beauty in Modern Jazz dance goes great with my body
The lines, slightly perfect angles,
So I pivot
And dance Modern Jazz
The longing of the dance studio
Creates the technique in my movements
Movement qualities of self-care
Then there was Modern Jazz Dance
Gia’s Autumn Leaves
Modern Jazz is a form that liberates
Spaces and creativity
Then there was Modern Jazz Dance…
Movement qualities of attention to my body
Reflections
Of Lavender, Cologne
The Art in the Journey of Dancer

It seems like this tree has been here forever, with its expansive roots and wrinkled limbs.
But really, it was a sapling yesterday.

One branch is hard to miss.
I imagine one day it pointed to the stars,
but as it grew a strong gust came and twisted the branch.
From then on it grew downwards,
unbeknownst to the rest of the tree.
Had the trunk understood what tragedy struck, it surely wouldn’t have poured its energy and
nutrients into such a distortion.

Down the branch grew, away from the stars and the sunlight, until it rooted itself straight into the
ground.
Of course, now the trunk must have felt the pain.
The novelty and the permanence of it couldn’t be ignored –
right?
Yet still the branch grew, down and out with beautiful, viral speed.

As I look closer, more cracks and dents in the wood are becoming clear. I wish I could ask the
tree which one hurt the most.
I think this tree will die soon. And what a shame it will be, this tree,
that once looked to the sky.

at 29 she had
children who loved her
unconditionally
a mother who’d do
anything for her
and a sister who’d kill for her

at 29 she had
nieces who were
inspired by her
and nephews who
looked up to her

at 29 she had
a family who
awaited her recovery

and at 29
she took her
last breath

even though
her death was
incredibly tragic
there’s a lot of things
you can do in
29 years

at 29
you can live a carefree life
you can dance without displacing a hip
you can get married 3 times over
you can bleach your hair
without the youngins saying
you’re going through a midlife crisis

she’ll forever be in my heart
she’ll forever be 29

I am dissolved, not dismembered
I am a mind, my soul an ember
My heart dies when I miss you
My soul holds you like glue

I never really understood love
So I bought a book hoping to find something to be a part of
I failed. I still don’t understand it
When it comes to love I’ll always be a misfit

When it comes to you..
I haven’t got a clue
You were so loving, caring and kind
But when you left me I realized love was blind

A gaping hole was left in my chest
It wasn’t until you left.. That I realized I was obsessed
Dangerously so, my mind cracks when you’re not there
My eyes search around for you, daring to stare

When my eyes land on you.
You’ve found someone different,
Replaced me.
Threw everything away like it was nothing

I feel dull, disdain, angry
Like something important ran away
Left me without a second thought
Left me feeling undeserving and useless

Staring at you feels like poison
But I can’t resist
Just one drop for my thirst I can’t quench
Love me again, let me suck in all your toxins
Dissolve my soul like you’ve always wanted.

all my life no one seemed to care
men would look at me
as if they cared

those people who would be like
“oh can i touch your hair?”
and the answer is

no you cannot touch me
no you cannot judge me
no you cannot rub me

in any way, shape, or form

no you cannot hug me
no you cannot love me
no you cannot take me

anywhere

but what you can do is
respect me

use your eyes for
more than undressing me

disrespect me again
and i’ll give you a vasectomy
to your future children
may they rest in peace

you speak to me
a human being
as if i do not deserve the right to breathe

i understand that in this country
you have the freedom of speech
but watch the way that you speak
to me

Plucked like an unripe peach
From where it clings to its branch;
You can’t blame me for being bitter
Blushing fruit
Dangling before your eyes
You must’ve figured
It was yours to take.

After years of searching,
From the Scottish Highlands to the deepest jungles of Guyana,
You’ve found the unicorn in your very own backyard
She stands with long blonde hair shimmering in the late afternoon sun
You stare in astonishment
“Where have you been all my life?”
And to your surprise,
She speaks
“Pretty day, isn’t it?”
Her eyes are deep and soulful
Wide and fixed on the slowly setting sun
If you look closely you can almost see her retinas burning
But if she’s in pain, she doesn’t show it
A gentle smile graces her soft face and her slender arms are folded behind her back
This woman, everything a unicorn should be
And then some
So why,
You wonder,
Has she hidden herself this long?
Why would she allow no other to bask in her stunning beauty before you?
“No other?”
She scoffs
“Many men have “basked in my beauty” before
Though they didn’t consider themselves men before a beautiful woman
Stallions before a unicorn
They considered themselves conquerors before an island”
She extends an arm
“Do you see these?”
Dozens of golden bands chew lazily on their own tails and constrict her wrist all the way
up to her elbow
“Every man who has ever shackled me,
Told me who to be
And how
And why
Now rests as metal on my flesh.”
There are more bracelets on the other arm.
“Every man who has ever cut a piece of me”
She lifts the side of her shirt to reveal sutures wiring the remains of her stomach shut
“Now must keep it
And endure the rotting stench of what once was my heart.”
You are unwavering.
“These are the words they have spoken, marked neatly on my skin. Every time they call
me slut, whore, bitch, I draw another line.”
She rolls up her jeans to reveal legs blackened with ink.
You are unwavering.
“I will not always be your friend,”
She says.
“There will be women too.
They will wish to slash and stab and bleed you dry for the injustice they see in your
soul.”
You are unwavering.
“The world does not want you.”
It will cast every stone, brick, and bill at you to keep you out
To keep you down.”
You are unwavering.
She turns her gaze away from the bruised orange sky to face you.
“All that, and more,”
Her milky eyes well up with tears.
“And you still want this?”
You are unwavering.
She sighs.
“Then go forth. Wake and face it all another day. You are fierce, you are strong, you are
a woman
And you always have been.