we used to say there was a ghost who lived in the old rehearsal room at the end of the basement hall I sometimes wonder if she ever grew tired of the music or if that was exactly why she stayed

And now when I look in the mirror, The ghost of who I used to be Still lurks somewhere deep Deep within my eyes weep. I try to hold on to it with no luck, The ghost has already long gone I'm asking what went wrong Wrong within our song.

There is beer in my orchids like there are chips in my sandwiches. I tuck my pant legs into each other before I sew them. I cut the tops off my bay tree so it grows sturdy. As I loop de loop the strings to tye my shoes into bows. I do so many things just to keep on learning, I keep on making choice...Read more

I'm not sure if I know her, I feel like I should, And I'm coming up short because I don't, Her voice is too familiar Or maybe not loud enough Because it's hard to hear her speak Her image is of a ghost Or someone from the past, Or maybe the future. She's changing everyday, From the heaviness of ye...Read more

This river was a sheet, before. Twenty thousand years ago, apparently, the Laurendale Ice Sheet covered it all with sea levels four hundred below today. That’s why the doorbell to the oceans’ door is just a slip away. That’s why the ghost that ride the salty waves —never drown. E. Ex.

A ghost waiting in the corridor A gale outside A wailer in the ship Shivering and scared And you dared Finding it You sit on the pit

Just before my grandmother's passing, my aunts took turns bathing her. Fingers that unthreaded the hair, that untied the knots and washed it down the river. I tell this in the same way a person genuflects before a candle and sees god. There are no ghosts now, Only the memory of hands moving, ...Read more

Read this poem. THIS BUS STOP WAS A CORAL REEF, ONCE -Megan Arkenberg. Twenty thousand years ago, she said, this whole city was the floor of an ocean six thousand feet deep. That's why when you put your ear to the shell of an airplane, you hear waves. That's why the ghosts in your ap...Read more

Más de dos semanas, rompo un récord y me hundo, como si al salvarme me perdiera en lo profundo. Más de dos semanas limpia, eso dicen al mirar, pero nadie ve lo que me empiezo a desgarrar. ¿A qué costo esta calma que por fuera se ve bien? si por dentro hay tormenta que no entiende de “estoy bien”. Má...Read more