September 5, 2026

writing exercises
that rely on memory
and childhood
always piss me off

the parts of my childhood that i only have
the foggiest of emotional memories of
were absolutely idyllic

the parts of my childhood
where i can actually picture
outfits and items and hear words and activities being done
those are at least shadowed if not fully enveloped in
approaching tragedy
and/or soon to be
trauma

don’t ask me to remember things
my brain has no clear memory of

and don’t ask me to partake in a “fun activity”
when everything i may bring up
may bring the room
down

[it is not a compulsion i’m working against —
it is simply the facts of my own
past]

July 8, 2026

writing has always been how i
come to terms with my emotions

even before i wrote poetry every morning
i would analyze things through personal essay

and even before i was intrigued by a writing major
i was writing-creating things
constantly:

scenes
lists of characters
concepts
a single piece of dialogue
just a whole bunch of names i loved

while those might not be the
standard journal-to-figure-out-ones-feelings kind of writings
i think they were my way of figuring things out
in my brain — lists to organize the chaos
constantly thinking in theatre
ideas upon ideas upon ideas

maybe that’s what i should do as a writing challenge;
find one of the concepts i created as a child
and see how far i get in the process of fully committing to it
and creating it
and making it come to life as a fully fleshed-out piece
[whatever kind of writing that may be]
as an adult…

that could be fun…!

November 21, 2025

the morning poetry
still in the morning
still in the morning
as my father waters all his plants
and as the puppy gets into trouble
in the kitchen
the kitchen of my childhood
which only looks half like it did
in my childhood
and i have already scoped through the dozens
perhaps hundreds
of articles of clothing i still have in this house
to see if anything
still slaps

and now my father is done with the plants
and is playing with the puppy
like he had promised her
and i can see into the dining room
as they play
and play and play
and i think it’s
almost
as good as me bringing him
a grandchild
to play with

[maybe
maybe
maybe when our country
isn’t trying to literally kill
anyone who isn’t a
cis
straight
white
upper class
christian
man

maybe then
we’ll bring him one]

April 14, 2025

children
and philosophers
wonder at the wonder of the world

children
and writers
imagine all the what-ifs

children
and actors
inhabit others’ stories

children
and tinkerers
mess around with physical objects
to see what can be done

i don’t think that it is only one kind of person
or profession that
keeps the “play” alive
from childhood

the key is simply to find a way
to keep your own childhood loves
going and going and going
so you never
lose them

February 17, 2024

maybe
one upon a time
i was happy
i was healed
i was a child without trauma
but now
i gotta
know it
own it
be it
and maybe work towards
getting back to the child we all
once were

[but why
can i not
think of children
without thinking of
every
single
child
killed by israel]

[i really can’t think of anything anymore
without finding a parallel
to the tragedy
in Palestine]

February 13, 2023

i wish i had written more as a child
about what it felt like to be
those ages that i was–
it all felt so solid
inevitable
unchangeable
at the time

but now it slips my mind
i try to hold the grains of sand
as tightly as i can
and i have no specificity
just generic hazy memory
like things
vibes
of times
but i want the solid
the thought processes
the emotions (good and bad and in-between)
i want to remember
me

but instead i get this vague reaching
for who i used to be
and who i might
have grown
into

but none of this feels as solid
as writing does
now

so maybe that’s why i write
every day
even if it feels silly
or poorly crafted
or i don’t know what i’ll ever do with it
i need to find a way to look back
and identify myself
from years away

because sometimes i can’t even identify myself today

May 2, 2022

it became so much easier
to talk about my drive
to take care of others
when i thought of it as
a trauma response
from childhood.

when approached as something
stemming from the
‘goodness of my own heart’
something akin to being
‘just a good person’
or the source being
‘simply my selfless, altruistic self’
then the ache i felt when i wanted others
to drop everything
and care for me
(the way i did them)
stopped being so disturbingly
selfish/bad person/greedy-hearted
and instead became a warning sign
that i still needed to heal my inner child,
and the care i gave others
wasn’t, in fact, a choice or a personality trait
but was a compulsion driven from a place
of needing what i gave.

March 17, 2022

my sense of self
has never grown
past the age of the trauma

and while i’ve continued to wade through
life
and experiences
past eleven years old,
the photographic evidence proves nothing.
as that isn’t me.
can’t be.

maybe that’s why it felt so good
to change my appearance
so drastically;

the old ‘look’ was simply a shadow
of who i imagined i was,
a poorly made copy
adding weight
and height
and unnecessary curves
and worry in the heart and mind

but maybe this me
recreated like a phoenix from the ashes
of who i thought i’d be
can be the one who finally
stands in front of the small
blonde
little [girl]
in a frilly dress
and skinned knees,
and they can look this
non-binary adult
with rainbow hair
and gender-euphoria pants
and at last say
with confidence
and ownership
and love
“that’s me!”

March 14, 2022

i don’t have
many memories
from childhood

an iconic moment here

a rush of emotion there

the things that i did all summer
bundled into one specific instance

mostly
{like my thoughts}
i have
vibes

generally
my memories
consist of the
aura
of childhood
of carefree freedom
imagination
the feeling of being
too big for that tiny body
to old for this world
(or maybe too big for this small world
and too old for that young body)

and as my memories age out
from childhood
to tween,
pre-teen,
teenage-hood,
young-adulthood
the memories get darker
angstier
and even the vibes
are less clear

the older i got
the swirlier the emotions became

until something happened
and i feel like i burst forth
from a cauldron of muck
and murky emotions
and became fully me

[when did that happen?
when i hit my stride in my early/mid 20’s?
when i chopped off all my hair
and started caring less
about what i was ‘supposed to’ be?
when i finally birthed myself out of the
strong-arm of academia?
when i met kip?
when i figured out i was non-binary?
when i started feeling more like i did
at 9?
(even though, emotionally, i do still have times/days/stints
of 19-year-old me?)]

memories are fickle
and i feel as though mine might be
fickler than most

but hey,
the vibes of my childhood,
overall,
they were simply
exquisite.

October 3, 2021

so much
moving/packing/driving/stress
too tired to write
a real poem

so instead
i’ll convey to you
the most beautiful thing i heard today
directly after pulling in to our new home’s driveway
the final trip of the day
from across the street
at a new neighbor’s 6th birthday party:

child (somewhere between 8 and 10)
singing (while sprinting down a long driveway):
I BELIEVE I CAN FLY!!! I BE-
(the sound “oof” is heard)
(pause)
child (yelling reassuringly): I’M FINE!
(pause)
(pause)
(pause)
child (running back up the driveway toward the party)
(not quite as loud or exuberant as previously):
I believe I can fly!