To Travel: A Sonnet

I was a stranger here yet better known Away from all I thought myself to be— Away from all routines that made me, me, I found myself in being severed grown. Away from all the people I loved best I found myself in newer company— I found my soul in this older country Away from…

Writing is Hard: A Lament

Writing is hard and I'll tell you why: I am not the Bard and that makes me cry. Red pens are bloodstains on my poor first draft Despite prep-school refrains about the English "RAFT." Well, dear school teachers, I must ask you now: Though you seemed to be preachers, I do not know how To find out my…