travel writing

driving from los angeles to berkeley for a poetry gig in a pickup truck

he made it clear

with his cowboy smile

it was

okay to be myself


sweet tea in an irish joint

patrick’s roadhouse

green t-rex mounted on the roof

why the hell not

santa monica

pacific coast highway

a bust of rimbaud staring

at our obscene amount of french fries

we found ourselves eating in miss havisham’s sitting room

surrounded by

bric-a-brac of the damned

laughing at local customs 

i decided

on my fifth trip to california

(terrestrial green valley

little indian girl that i am)

to give myself to the pacific ocean

for the first time


we stopped in santa barbara

i was only going to dip my toes in

kicking off my ballet flats

but i allowed the tide

to pull me out

again and again until i

fully clothed in blouse and skirt

walked into the sea waist high

edna pontellier awakening

with no desire to die

it was that moment

i felt pure bliss streaming

down in salt water tears

it was that moment 

i was most alive


Obligatory airport selfie. Beast Crawl!

performance poetry

I’m gigging this! The unofficial kick off to Beast Crawl!


performance poetry pop culture

Beast Crawl! I’ll be performing!

Beast Crawl