Poetry, Writing

Obituary for a Brooklyn Romance

Brooklyn was cold when we met,026
and I was young.
We smoked pot on that Friday night,
(my first time)
and you and I were too high it onto make the L-train,
Manhattan bound.
But I was stoned from the beginning,
loving you and loving the lights,
and in those moments I thought,
“this must be what it feels like to live.”
I was in love!
Fresh, young, and enchanted
as we walked through the movie scenes,
you know,
the ones that shaped our world views,
the ones on which we fashioned ourselves?
That was us in those movies,
or at least two people doing what we did,
eating blueberry pancakes on a Sunday morning
in some Central Park café.
You were the love I’d never felt before,
the ode I had yet to write,
the fresh-picked flowers I’d smelled for the first time.
Thank you,
for walking through a blizzard to bring me pizza.
Thank you,
for questioning my self-defeating notions
about all the things I thought I could never do.
We cried when the intercom at the airport
said that I had to board the plane that would fly
across the country and out of your embrace,
and at that moment,
my heart understood what it felt like
to lose someone it loved.
It mourned the mornings we would wake up,
sleepy-eyed and tangled,
and it mourned hearing you yell at me,
for god-knows-what.
It mourned 6:30 p.m.,
when I would walk across Manhattan
just to walk back home with you from work.
I mourned you.
I loved you extraordinarily.
And in fact, I still wonder
if you love mint chocolate-chip ice cream
as much as you did.


Idle No More Rally in Vancouver.
Photos by Jensen Gifford

We are
infinitely clueless,
yet eager to learn more;
and smiles mean the world to us,
as loneliness can be so pervasive.

We are
unnerved by the fear and anxiety
of what we cannot move with our hands;
but we are not vile,
nor do we intend malice.
we are only trying to make some sense of

We are
not selfish or filled with greed;
we are hopeless because we do not
have enough to give.

We are
people who like to see the sunrise,
especially with another grateful face.

We are
dreaming of a day when we can see more
happiness around us,
and we even dream of the happiness
we cannot see.

We are
you, and the barista, and the teacher,
and we are people who love to love.

We are
people who haven’t taken no for an answer.

Poetry, Writing

The Audacity of a Collective