A Blog of Seattle Arts & Lectures
A Citizen of the Weather As the clouds billowed black we retreated from the air I sharp looked to either side Cordelia on my right for reassurance Dad on my left for strength yet they look only...
Newer Skeletons (Or, A Turn of Events I Never Would Have Anticipated But Am Not Complaining About) we are starting to see each other like x-rays. starting to carefully examine each other, (exciting) &...
Butterflies Yesterday my name was dazzling diamond. Today my name is bright shiny star, soaring through the sky. Sometimes I am an empty house, a book with no pages. Strangers think my name is amusing...
Henri Rousseau On the forest floor, the trees growing with bananas and peaches. A flower in the distance is as pink as a sunset flying away and the light blue and gray sky is like a fan trying to blow...
By Ann Teplick, WITS Writer-in-Residence Sleep in a field of salmon peonies. A rooftop with saxophone jazz. A sand dune with peacocks. All the warm night, sleep by the creek with its burble, th...
As part of our Required Reading series, we share a list of three essential works for each of SAL’s featured writers. Up this time: groundbreaking poet, essayist, and playwright Claudia Rankine...
Bathing in India Before I was a citizen of this country, I was a citizen of the bucket. Staring at the water right under my nose. I don’t believe I can fit. Lifting me up, my mom tells me it is the ...
In My Own Underwater World Sometimes I feel like a fish in a tank in the jungle – out of place, silent while everyone is roaring, squawking respected in their hidden languages and I just sit there...
By Matt Gano, WITS Writer-in-Residence when the poems with long lines salted raw on page make you aware of your meat, mark them with an asterisk, for the sky she fills with ink Over the past year, fel...
Burning When you tease me, I feel like I’m burning, and you lock the oven with words like, “I hate you.” As I burn, I try to put out the flames with tears, but you just laugh. Someti...