Poetry: Don’t Tell Me
Don’t Tell Me Life’s too hard I’ve come this far To go nowhere Why the blank stare? Don’t tell me you’ve been there. I don’t
Don’t Tell Me Life’s too hard I’ve come this far To go nowhere Why the blank stare? Don’t tell me you’ve been there. I don’t
I My mother pushed and screamed. I splashed into the wild rumpus already begun, the party of songs and a girl who cannot sing. I
It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And
You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask
Autistic artist Ra Butler shares her sequential art and poetry piece, “Fire Set Free,” telling the story of her relationships through the lens of a fire goddess forgotten to time.
The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck. Two days between the promise of a new adventure
I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang. There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.
Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a
Don’t Tell Me Life’s too hard I’ve come this far To go nowhere Why the blank stare? Don’t tell me you’ve been there. I don’t
I My mother pushed and screamed. I splashed into the wild rumpus already begun, the party of songs and a girl who cannot sing. I
It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And
You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask
Autistic artist Ra Butler shares her sequential art and poetry piece, “Fire Set Free,” telling the story of her relationships through the lens of a fire goddess forgotten to time.
The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck. Two days between the promise of a new adventure
I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang. There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.
Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a
Don’t Tell Me Life’s too hard I’ve come this far To go nowhere Why the blank stare? Don’t tell me you’ve been there. I don’t
I My mother pushed and screamed. I splashed into the wild rumpus already begun, the party of songs and a girl who cannot sing. I
It’s my island, mine alone, so I’m alone. Singing to myself and the sea. With equally endless ever-churning fractal blacks above and below me. And
You are an anomaly;A nebula, the birth-place of light and wonder.Your glow is widespread and beyond reach. They will call you a rarity.They will ask
Autistic artist Ra Butler shares her sequential art and poetry piece, “Fire Set Free,” telling the story of her relationships through the lens of a fire goddess forgotten to time.
The drive from Wellington, Florida to Chicago takes nineteen hours for a family of average luck. Two days between the promise of a new adventure
I’ve always felt that I am biding my time. When I say “I’ve always felt”, I mean as far back as I can remember. Like the things I was seeing and experiencing in my life were not the whole shebang. There was another place I was living and operating . . . almost.
Trigger warning: this one is dark Content warning: bad poetry Fifteen years ago, I wrote a poem. This was fifteen years before I had a
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