I grew up in New Jersey, so I had my fair share of Chinatown dinners, Lincoln Center jazz, late-night factory parties, and spoken word field trips. But it wasn’t until the eve of my move to the center of the country that I learned the Lenape history of Minetta Lane, one of the last places…
https://youtu.be/NdIMFrsAGU4 “Don’t you remember the grocery store my grandfather opened in Elizabeth?” “Zalman Meyer owned the tailor shop on Curtis. I remember that.” “His wife was Rose. There was our Aunt Rose. And Grandpa had a cousin named Rose, too. Who were all these Roses named after?” “I wanna know what happened to the Hebrew…
I told this story as part of a Moth Storytelling Intensive workshop. This is a five-minute snippet of a decades-long experience my family had with eminent domain. Eminent domain, as outlined in the Constitution’s Fifth Amendment, allows government bodies (with just compensation), to seize private citizens’ property for “public use.” But, like James Baldwin said…
Prompt: Write about the most interesting job you’ve had. “I don’t dream of labor…”
My grandpa, a WWII vet who suffered “shell shock,” always said to me, “Your birthday’s the only date that’s a command.” And it’s served me well. My friend started to tell me about her near-death experience. Wading in a 4-foot swimming pool fed by thermal springs in Colorado, her boyfriend interrupted her to say something…
“A Poem About My Mother’s Cervix” She had 3 kids carved out of her—“guts in a bucket,” estradiol dreams, and a reopened scar in the shape of her name: a ‘C.’ The first, though, was natural: a perfect baby boy who “hardly ever cried,” who played trombone in band and straddled straight A’s his whole…
Recorded 3/18/26 at Gypsy Coffee in Tulsa, Oklahoma “My Furrowed Brow” is my response to the Hamas – Israeli conflict set off by the October 7, 2024, attacks. I hope it helps you see that people on both sides of the conflict are just that: people, with complicated histories and bottomless faith. Enjoy! “My Furrowed…
TL;DR always make a reservation I arrived late in Cobán off two seven-hour mountain bus rides. My Chichicastenango homestay hosts had told me, “No, no, don’t stay in Uzpantan overnight. It’s kind of a shithole. There’s nothing there for you. No hotels, nothing to do. Go on to Cobán. It’s better there.” So when I…
Written 8/23/25 after a season spent backpacking Guatemala Note: Drafted on my ex-boyfriend’s birthday, a Dreamer. He paid for our third-date drinks with his Ecuadorian passport: 8 years old in the picture. He married the next girl he dated—the clean-up woman—for certainty. I wonder if they’re still together. He described his constant fear of discovery,…
This past May, I stuck my stuff in storage, and my backpack and I took a one-way plane ride to Guatemala City. Of course, the locals call their capital city “Guatemala,” or “Guate,” so you’d better know where you’re going. I barely did. I knew I was staying in Guate for three nights at a…
