Intuitive
Adolescence

I saw the TV glow blue_edited_edited.jpg

Intuitive Adolescence doubles as the name and primary focus of this collection of works. As this collection is essentially a reflection of my own journey of self-growth, acceptance, and faith, I wanted its title to reflect this period of my life, which, in my eyes, felt like a second puberty of sorts. This sort of second adolescence was one I felt I had great control over, as this period of growth was only able to begin once I truly committed to beginning the lifelong journey of reaching my highest self. Though, like any form of adolescence, one must deal with the challenges of personal development and the inevitable growing pains that come with it, which I worked to echo in each poem within the collection.

Read the Collection

*The Blue Opaque Accompanying Artwork

Quick Reads

Enjoy my favorite snippets from the collection below.

Morning Coffee

i’m sure there are a million poems named morning coffee.

“You’re my everything, morning coffee.”

sounds like an awful way to start my own poem about mourning coffee.

sometimes, on mornings like this one — when the sky

is blue where our God sits then becomes

the white lingering under the noses of new york city sinners —

on mornings like these I become a part of the sky

where GOD parks his heavenly bum. and I bring my morning coffee

with me and i’m warm because my journey wasn’t so long that

the crema still sits atop, my small bit of home.

on mornings like this one where I can park my bum

next to My Mother I like to think of my momma.

I wonder if she too enjoys the connection to home

when releasing her air gently now, atop the crema —

I wonder if she too Worries — if it’s connection or power

that makes Crema so wonderful to manipulate.

Don't Forget

I love.

the way the last of a tree's leaves wrap around it’s trunk

in a final caress

before winter lays its white blanket over the earth

allowing us a time

to look inward

and find the warmth

within ourselves.

you were blessed to see

the sea of trees amidst the changing seasons

variations of colors you thought were known

but we’re painted with the beauty of change

a cargo train

different colored cars

gliding through the sea

man and earth gracefully collide

yin and yang

as mementos of the heavens

flutter through our scene

turning our minds upward

to see this moment

our moment

as everything

is everything.

Maybe the Answer is in Color Theory

How can I uncloud my own light?

HowcanIpulltheredandblackfrom

My Blue?

When everything — is made of gas? Maybe I can blow It away? Maybe —

Blue can electrocute red. Maybe

Love, can swallow hate.

IfIhugblackvaporwillithugmeback?

If I told my black cloud, that it is loved, would it still be black?

Would it still be — opaque?

Orwillredandblacksmoothlyfade —

Back

In-

Blue

I hope so.

I don't know

Any other

Way

I KNOW

MY OWN

WAY.

Mr.Melancholy

I own a skirt I own two skirts the same skirt

In different colors

I was with my Aunt when I saw them for the first time.

I can’t remember which came first.

Orange or Black → the Moon’s craters or our Sunset?

Mr. Melancholy or The Pink Opaque

I told my Aunt that I didn’t need

Both

The black felt depressing, but I thought it might make me

Fit in more.

The orange was LOUD → BEAUTIFUL → ATTENTION GRABBING.

I thought those people might find it annoying.

It was an acquired taste, like myself.

My Aunt bought Mr. Melancholy, I bought the SUN.

I wondered if my Aunt was one of his Agents —

Mr. Melancholy said trust no one.

My Aunt has met him. Mr. Melancholy, many times before.

So have I.

The first day I wore the Night, I had an awful day.

I haven’t worn it since.

But I won’t throw him away.

They come as a pair. I DECIDED THAT.

The man in the moon is stuck.

And when you’re trapped, sadness becomes anger quickly.

I’ve met mr. melancholy before.

So has my Aunt.

He’s scary. Sometimes.

So is the sun.