to shine like a starstrewn sky


the pieces that make up happiness – 2.


2. I’ll wait for you

Having people who love me despite my faults,

Despite childish tears, eating too much,

Uncomfortable honesty, blushing, middle fingers,

Punchlines gone wrong, uncombed hair,

Tantrums, tongue-slips, quick despair,

Despite everything and worse,

Being able to look me in the eye and say,

I’ll wait for you. Don’t worry.

And even, You’re special.

Not just with lips, but with kind eyes

Refulgent with hearth-warmth and heart-glow;

And hands that wrap blankets around me

And feet that get up to fetch me the things I need

Before I knew I needed them:

Joy. Confidence. Unfading peace.

the pieces that make up happiness – 1.


1. watching crumpled tissues fall / like petals in the spring

First, I hugged her hard, in silence.

Then I sat next to her, listening, listening, her hands folded in mine,

Drinking in her sorrows slowly like a kettle being filled,

Emitting fee—fee—fee

The quiet, soothing noise

Of blowing off steam.

Finally, I whispered a joke into her ear—

Self-derogatory cynicism,

Turning sadness from a bullet wound

To a pellet of tightly-packed humor.

Finally, she stopped crying, looked up, and laughed: softly.

And I swept her tearstained tissues

Out with the trash.

Storm of Salt

The storm cries out in pain tonight,

It shrieks in swollen moan,

The raindrops rage and pelt the roof

Like shattered ocean foam.

Sleet-fingers tear through fragile sky

In sobbing – monotone,

In sympathy with salt-sea tears

That wet my cheeks alone.


A rain-slicked branch impales the air,

Its leaves – the earth below,

The quiver of the sticky boughs

Move with the rainfall’s flow.

My soul bristles – and flinches –

As the sharp leaves flying go,

As if to chase them aimlessly

I wander to and fro.


The blood-red leaves, they etch your smile,

The wind – it howls your name,

The branches shiver mockingly

In laughter at my shame.

I burst outside – in screaming rain,

I snap the bough in two!

But though the fragments turn to dust,

I stand – and think of you.


Calculus Class: Integration

Calculus Class: Integration








senior year

senior year


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