THE HYMNS FOR ALL ENDS SOUND THE SAME.

"Brief pause. I'm walking backward into my own myth. I was trying to walk out."

-Anne Carson

when i was fifteen or so, i discovered that anyone could be a poet if they were brave enough to write the truth. while i've never considered myself brave, i've always strived to be honest. since then, i've been privately cataloguing the dark and messy. i've recorded the hauntings, the leavings, the longings, the blood, and the feminine rage not knowing what to do with it all. because what could i ever do but crawl out from the depths of myself screaming for anyone to listen to what i have to say?

these poems are confessions. read them. devour them. like them. love them. loathe them. it's all the same in the end, isn't it?

Photo Credit: Frédéric Fontenoy