Diary of an Intern: Week One

Quote me: “seriously if I get a job at a publishing house and am forced to read an epic I’m gonna mcfreakin lose it” xoxo

Today marks the first week of my internship at a literary magazine (I’m l i v i n g!) where I am an assistant editor. Well, maybe not my first full week, as I started yesterday, June 1st, but there was a lot of work to be done and I haven’t seen the sun so I’m counting it as a week.

Continue reading “Diary of an Intern: Week One”

The Drive – Villanelle

The drive was the very worst

The Drive

 

The drive was the very worst,

Under canopies of trees it was evident

our quiet conversation was clearly coerced

 

Flowers we nurtured together died of thirst

and left behind petals soaked in malevolence

The drive was the very worst

 

Our roses died yet we still tried to nurse

all but one, who remains desolate

Drive it to the hospital, you coerced

 

You hit redo like a car in reverse,

hit a tree stump the size of an elephant

The drive was the very worst

 

Windshield cracked like an outburst

yet I never voiced my sentiment

until now—confessions coerced

 

Our roses died yet we still tried to nurse

all but one, who developed an impediment

The drive was the very worst

My silence, thereafter, uncoerced

With love, Alyssa

Prompt: “I can’t support you anymore”

It takes two to mango

In everyone’s favorite creative writing workshop a few weeks ago, the one I feverishly plan on being on the eboard next semester for, one of four prompts was: Fiction- “I can’t support you anymore.”

While I did not write a piece of fiction, I did write a haiku. Disclaimer: it’s not based off someone I know, from as far as you can tell, at least.

Bags

I can’t support you

When you eat mango pulp from

Hefty, black trash bags


 

Please, spin me a tale of someone you can no longer support, and write, possibly in haiku form, why you can’t support them anymore.

With love, Alyssa


Photo by: Watercolor Artist Susaleena, Susaleena.com. Her paintings are hyper-realistic and vibrant.

Roots

A Series of Haiku about the process of cutting toxic ties, looked at from afar

Roots

I.

Running with my weeds.

You’ve got a weed wacker and

You’re ready to cut.

 

II.

“Can we talk?” you asked

There is nothing left to say.

I’m ready to cut.

 

III.

My weeds and I need

Personal time. Combat your

Weed wacker with roots.

 

IV.

Running with my roots

Pulled up. My roots have tempered.

Thrive in new gardens

 

V.

Plant my weeds under ground

Put a ribbon on my roots

I’m ready to cut

With love, Alyssa

Why the Seaweed is Always Greener in Someone Else’s Lake

A Rant

Why the Seaweed is Always Greener in Someone Else’s Lake: A Rant

Why is the seaweed always greener in someone else’s lake, you asked? Well fuck you, that’s why. I am so tired of people asking me why the sky is blue or why we can’t see four-dimensions or why my wife left me. And I have no answers for any of those questions.

If I knew why the seaweed is always greener in someone else’s lake, then by all means, I would tell people why. Heck, if I knew why, I’d ask the government for a million-dollar grant and instead of wasting it away on teaching a dog how to play piano, I’d use that money to buy a fucking pack of loose-leaf paper and a Dora the Explora themed pen, and I’d write the fucking explanation down. And then I’d send it off to the hungry Mongols that work at Buzzfeed so they can report on something useful for a change instead of another article titled ‘Do You Know All the Lyrics to Mr. Brightside?’

Now you’re asking me what would I do with the leftover money. I’d probably buy a lake and spend the rest of my life individually painting pieces of seaweed the color of neon green. I’d make it my lifestyle. I’d have kids and make it their lifestyle. We’d start up a family business. Why did my wife leave me? My lake would have the greenest seaweed in all of the world and people would come ask me why the seaweed is greener in my lake over theirs. And I’d say, fuck you, that’s why.

With love, Alyssa