SAL/ON

A Blog of Seattle Arts & Lectures

Category: Student Writing

Lindy West stands with her arm over the shoulder of a smiling young student reader. They're standing in front of a brick wall.

“Self-Portrait,” by Lucinda Gilbertson

A photo of a girl Rosy cheeked and round Hangs on a wall in my house Arms spread wide and welcoming The perfect picture of childhood Of tire swings And clam bakes And playing pretend She worries about...

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Mary Ruefle gazes into the camera, head down, brows up, through her curly hair. Her navy blue blazer is decorated with a small pin.

Introductions: Mary Ruefle

By Rebecca Hoogs, SAL Associate Director Twenty-five years ago, I jumped into a pool in Switzerland and when I got out of the pool, I went about my business, i.e. my life for a while—maybe a half ho...

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Wei-Wei Lee, looking slightly over her shoulder, grins at the camera amid a black backdrop lit by multicolored, circular lights.

“cold hard marble truth,” by Wei-Wei Lee

It’s a mite hard to believe on nights like this that, somewhere, I have friends who aren’t dream-deep and snug in their beds, asleep, but may be dozing off in lecture with pens stuttering on notes...

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Maia Pody stands in front of a blurred out background of a body of water, with boats behind her. She's looking down at a page she is reading aloud from.

YPL Ambassador Maia Pody Has Something to Say

Need to brighten up your Thursday afternoon? Nancy Guppy’s Art Zone brings us this video, beautifully shot by Vincent Pierce, of our 2019 Youth Poet Laureate Ambassador Maia Pody reading her poe...

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Chimamanda Danita Egboh laughs backstage at Benaroya Hall. Her hair is in braids, and she's wearing a blue and white striped cardigan.

“I Am From,” by Chimamanda Danita Egboh

I Am From I am from Nigeria, the western part of Africa From the sandy roads and hot sunny days I’m from delicious egusi soup with pounded yam, jollof red, fried rice with chicken and my favorite Af...

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Gianni Johnson stands at the podium, smiling and speaking into a microphone, with one hand raised.

“Turf,” by Gianni Johnson

We don’t have to kill our environment to make beautiful things If life was on a dark path, should we continue on to see what life brings? Self-inspired hope after finding new ways to cope Dealing wi...

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Lydia Ganz reads from a wood lectern, hair held back by a blue headband as she leans forward to look at her paper.

“Ode to Cinnamon,” by Lydia Ganz

Cinnamon O, cinnamon Soft but sharp quiet but demanding You are the tall red spruces old as time cutting the sky and stretching beyond You are clouds who knit together casting a blanket of gray swallo...

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“The F Train,” by Lucia Young

The F Train Maybe she didn’t get the job Maybe the hiring manager found her height overbearing, That she reeked of women who frighten men Maybe he caught sight of the pendant on the chain around her...

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