Author: Kristen Green

To work in art we must see the unknown To brush our commentary upon paper so others may see it, too You may be the only one who reads this And that will be...

Today I made a memory of you A perfectly contained thought that could be placed in a box on a shelf in my mind and retrieved whenever I say the word, “Go” It’s safer...

You held my heart as a red balloon turning the string within your fingers absentminded in your abilities as if air could be contained by single knot and rubber red string begetting trapped self...

Allow me to put this pen to paper and consider you as more than a passing thought That my sinew and muscles and bones will create this new life which your eyes will give...

Love are these crushed blossoms that I hiked up and down the Montmartre steps to bring to you just because I knew you’d like them And I dream that you will clasp them in...

Maya Angelou said that being American means being white and everyone else has to hyphenate But what about those who hyphenate their lives in order to come together as a single unit Without titles...