The Inklings

This dynamic darkness is my own imagination

Why do you wait? You keep searching for him. Why, there's a good chance that the one you are looking for is you.

Believe it or not, Mother, I am not you. I was not born in 1975 I have no regrets I have not soured. Believe it or not, Mother, I don't want to be a doctor I want to write, write, sing leave me be. Believe it or not, Mother, I can laugh so bright so long love as fierce as strong be this bold this wrong as I wish. Love, Ri.

messy ponytail, light through the blinds frumpy work corduroy coffee rings and water seven page essay on psychology golden brain, golden pencil soft piano music, humming to Not a haiku. I just liked this moment in time. It captures my Mondays.

O bagel, my joy How sweet yet simple you are Save me from hunger The thing about writing haikus during lunch is that a lot of them will be about food.

Why can't it slow down? Every time I try to think The world interrupts I'm in a whirlwind right now.

Clear discs in my eyes      They give me sight and beauty But who is looking? This is just a weird little haiku I wrote about my contact lenses. You may notice that a lot of my poetry about feelings has to do with people looking at me and the amount of attention I get. Am I a conceited diva? Probably! But it's my blog so I am unapologetically self-centered here.

Chin up, my princess Your crown is falling too soon

children  are like memory foam except they keep the memories forever

I want to sit beneath the arch of an old mossy building see the brick the vines the paintings the lines how old these roots run though I am young see the smell in the air of wind-tussled hair feel the cobblestone rough beneath palms so tough