The above is a contender for the cover design of a collection of poems I hope to publish in the spring of 2018. My emotions canvass everything from fear to exaltation to giving into this luminous desire I have to share this collection of approximately thirty-five poems.
I began writing the poems in the summer of 2015 and they reflect a time when I explored my depression, attempted to find grace in the void. What I brought back with me surprises me now as I edit them- I didn’t know I was grieving a loss of self, then finding that self again and loving her. The poems reveal pain, but what surfaces are glints of hope and wholeness. That’s the answer to “why now?”- this connection. The possibility that these poems may well be a gift, a balm, my own offering of light.
Here’s a sample from one of the poems:
In addition, I finished the first draft of The Education of Sugar Girl, a coming-of-age verse novel about a Maggie Collin’s struggles after her father goes to prison, leaving her responsible for holding herself, her mother, and her three young siblings together. Maggie makes the choice to pick up where her father left off – slinging drugs. What’s important to me about this story are the questions- how far would you go to save your family, even if it meant turning away from everything you ever thought you stood for?
Also in the works:
Outlining a series of books for middle-grade readers tentatively titled The Goblin Chronicles.
Outlining a dark fantasy series titled The Kingdom of Dark Things.
And yes, I’m playing with the idea of writing these in verse as well. There’s something about writing in poetic/verse form that helps me cut to the quick of the thing.
Share your thoughts in the comments! I’m about to embark on an adventure and your support is appreciated. Thank you!
It comes on like the summer
you had your first period . This small moment when
all of a sudden
you realize you’re a woman, not a girl.
Those sanguine roles of youth are no longer yours
and it’s setting a weight down. Learning to dance
from the balls of your feet up.
Standing barefoot in the moonlight tasting your need
to howl in the back of your throat.
Letting it loose because you don’t give a fuck.
I have given it a name. The Bleak this beast it bites and in its bullets are coffin nails. Those nails I hear them crying this sad work. This goodbye … Continue reading Mourning Song