ON THE NIGHT TRAIN TO VIENNA

on the night train to Vienna I dreamt as the soft tangerine light bled into the windows, tumbling down infinities of Italian countryside absorbing into my retinas in summer shades of dusk-colored haze   entranced I was– a nervous girl of sixteen years, uncharted valleys sprawling ceaselessly at the beds of my fingers, love languagesContinue reading “ON THE NIGHT TRAIN TO VIENNA”

TO BE A POET

I remember the first time I discovered poetry, bolts of electric affluenza coursing through soft fingertips and into the skinny blue lines of fascination meaning nothing at first, yet transforming into the spillage of emotion, the invention of color, the budding metamorphosis of the artist’s apprehension. I remember telling everyone about the honey-tainted metaphors thatContinue reading “TO BE A POET”