my italia

i named my poetry journals after a country i have never seen.  i guess because of the wanderlust, or maybe because the name represents something bigger, something beyond.

i named them all ‘my skye,’ after the isle.  it’s the faerie-dream i caught, once.  and i see pieces of it everywhere.  every time i cram my sock-covered feet against the floor of the plane as it runs into the air, thin metal tube, i start looking.

this is what i saw.

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Why I Choose Doctor Who

And why I deem it worth using up the rest of my voice to talk about it in the car after I stayed up too late watching the 50th anniversary at a friend’s house.  And why I deem it worth writing about today, when my head feels like styrofoam thanks to allergies (and thus shall all hate mail be forwarded).  To be clear: I’ll try to avoid spoilers in this post and speak in generalizations.

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Flickering Lights

Sometimes I can see the world lit up.

Sometimes I can name pencils, and colors, like “handwritten notes” or “Saturday morning” or “ocean brontide” or “laughing because you know.”  Sometimes I can laugh at how small I am, at the stripes of color in rock that span and double until I am in a mere thunderclap.  Languages, new words I cannot pronounce, lift my head and sharpen my eyes as I try to taste the sound.

Sometimes words are so easy.

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