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It's a goddamned joke how we can hurt even in the sun.

O, Lady Lamb.

20 May 2017 is significant as it is the day I started on a fresh page in a new journal. 

Sun is out. Finally warm. 65 and sunny. Leaves are electric this afternoon. Fuck. I long to be so vibrant. I could use a word other than green to describe...and of course, the only word that comes to mind is electric. It’s as if they’re full of little sparks...Sky is mostly clear with a few sweepings of clouds. I’m in love again. With myself. With my body. I find myself always conflicted and even the day’s clarity cannot magnify. Everything and nothing is illuminated. My handwriting is inconsistent.

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goodbye, 2016.

it's been some time.

last year, i had a 64% acceptance rate for poems. this year, it's 25%. i didn't submit much, totaling 20 submissions. and even sending those few was a difficult feat. i finished my first full-length manuscript. it was rejected three times. i began working on my second. i questioned whether i am truly a writer. i was awarded a residency at Grin City Collective (and was unable to accept due to financial circumstances). i didn't write as much this year. i mean, i wrote. i had ideas. i scribbled them. i crossed them out. i crumpled up a lot of paper. many nights, i sat in my car by the lake to write and still, nothing. a few lines here and there. i questioned my pre-existing definition of a writer. i cried a lot.

entering 2017, i see many of my peers and loved ones in full bloom. entering 2017, i realize i'm not and don't have to be at the same place in my blooming as others are in theirs. this garden is my own. this garden has been ignored in favor of looking in awe at others' gardens. to see what's growing around me instead of what's growing within me. as 2017 begins, i realize i have seeds. and that it is my time to begin sowing them.

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SLC >>>

during a layover in JFK, the contents of my unreasonably priced sandwich fell onto the floor. a Salt Lake City Uber driver had water in his car. & mints. M I N T S. i stayed in a room painted to look like a river trout. i went to 7-Eleven at two-thirty in the morning to get snacks. i ate Doritos & animal crackers because i am actually five. note: Salt Lake City does not have Moxie, nor do (most) Salt Lake City residents know what Moxie is. i watched some of my favourite people read poems. i ate Pie Hole pizza & talked abt good music to write to. i obtained a Matt Hart / Rachel McKibbens split poetry 7". i ate donuts gloriously drenched in honey butter. i almost gained access to the rooftop of the library this time, but the door was being locked as i got to it. i read & heard poems in a hotel courtyard, & later in a hotel lobby (until 3am, obviously). i brunched with a lot of poets. i ate a good vegan scramble. i had In-N-Out for the first time in two years & it was exactly as perfect as i remember. i heard poems around a campfire, ate soup & rice, & stayed up too late, with radical babes at The Mansion. i was reminded that i need to watch Pulp Fiction. during a layover in LAX, i lost half a bagel to the carpet & misplaced a bag full of mini donuts somewhere between the bathroom & my gate. a child kicked my seat for exactly three hours before crying that their ears felt "bad." i understood. 

what a gleaming weekend. what a perfect sunburn. i met so many people. i'm reminded what it is to be an artist, what it is to come together with common ethos, what it is to regularly have conversations beyond small talk, what it is to be a part of something bigger, something more important. i love you, Utah. i miss you already.

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after two years of the blue screen of death / after losing 60+ fully bloomed poems & many little seedlings of other poems in the graveyard of my old computer / after rifling through several notebooks to find lost loves / after many miles of procrastination / after convincing myself all my poems are just trash heaps lightly coated with glitter / after convincing myself i should stop writing for good / after countless conversations with my partner & my best friend on the importance of writing as a vessel for survival & what it means to be both the megaphone & the voice traveling through it // i have finished the first draft of my first manuscript. i am full & good & relieved & sparkling. i am tired. i am becoming.

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Campo Enoteca, 9 May 2016.
photo courtesy of Heidi Therrien.

as of today, four poems telling some of the worse parts of my teenage-hood are living in Wyvern Lit alongside radical babes Bee Walsh, Jess Rizkallah, Emily Carroll, Cassandra de Alba, & Jeremy Radin. you can read the whole issue here. also, the new issue of The Legendary also went live today, which is also housing a few of my poems - two about grief, one about grief & my mother.

in other news, i am made of coffee & perfect bangs. xo

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a body, a home

three of my poems found a home in Vagabond City Lit: one about a science fair project, one about disappearing, & one that catalogues my body (i have Jeremy Radin & all his glorious howling to thank for its existence). you can read the new issue here: http://vagabondcitylit.com. xo

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summary of a year

it has been a wild & full year. if i am a bloom, after all the good, i can make it through winter. i went to Salt Lake City. i made new friends. i grew roots in a lot of directions. i became. i breathed & read & stood, really stood, & cried & took a lot of selfies (all of them good because bad selfies don't exist) & wondered. poetry allowed this harvest. poetry took a lot out of me, but gave back to me a lot of things i didn't know i would come to need.

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top ten records of 2015

// the sound of my soul blooming outside of my body
               // loud cackling
// what the trees whisper as you drive on a dark dirt road
               // the Merrimack River eroding boulders
// what the moon sings as it rises
               // creaking floorboards
// the joy of dogs befriending you
               // the sound of a box of donuts opening
// the Warriors soundtrack
               // Siri's voice

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GRRRL/FIGHT

i've been wanting to start a zine for a while - i love making things & putting things together, but just never had any reason to start anything. the past few days, i have been reading Girls to the Front, Sara Marcus' book on the Riot Grrrl Revolution, & it revived something in me. i realized i didn't need to have a reason beyond simply wanting to bring grrrls together. i have always loved the grrrlpunk bands of the 90s - they shaped my grrrlhood & my whole world. yeah, the 90s are over. so what? it's still time for revolution. it's still time for grrrls around the world to speak up & speak out about all of the issues we face - all grrrls of all backgrounds.

so i'm starting a zine. submissions can be sent to grrrlfightzine@gmail.com.

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we need you, grrrlfriend.

xo

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tonight at Flock Gallery (Brady Sullivan Plaza, suite LL 12) , i'll be reading a few poems alongside some wonderful folks. the open mic starts in a few minutes & i've got my summer shoes on. come kiss my heart.

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get in loser, we're going shopping.

well, soon.  i just revamped my storenvy shop - i will have two new chapbooks & a couple of surprise items coming soon, so check back here or catch a ride over through the navigation menu by clicking shop.  & of course, you'll be the first to know when something new goes live.

xo

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blackbox of the apocalypse

it's a little late as i've had some technical difficulties (my computer is now forever dead, for real dead, good-as-glitter dead), but i wrote a set of ekphrastic poems as part of a mixtape / tarot hybrid that's blowing smoke & railroad dust here at drunk in a midnight choir.  i hope it electrifies you.

xo

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put the kettle on

one of my poems will be joining the royal court at Queen Mob's Teahouse soon & i am just a dissolving sugarcube.  it's a tiny vignette of my high school experience & i can't wait for the world to see it!  

xo

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