I am hungry for the discomfort that means that world

is about to shake, shutter and grow a whole lot bigger.

I hunger to see new expressions of life piling up and pouring over the old.

I hunger for the shock of the new, the familiar, the misplaced and unanticipated context.

I hunger for inhibition to music the freedom to move with passion

My body thumming with ancient rhythm to become eternal living sound I hunger for embraceable melody to shimmy, shake and shine voices harmonizing and held in universal language

My voice whistles like the pine needles on a hemlock

My voice babbles like a brook.

My voice hums and thunks

like an old diesel truck 
chugging down the road.

My voice bubbles like a lion cub's first, powerful roar.

Akron is a place to explore.

Akron whispers the swish          and swash  of down coats           in January

Akron lights 

dance in the evening
and signal
a brighter future
for me

Akron warms me on cold evenings.

Each day like a wrapped present,

I shake it, and need to know.

Remembering my fifth grade teacher's voice,

the softest voice I had ever heard,
still loud and strong in my heart

Crocuses breaking the ground in early spring

bursting through the frozen earth
with the message of green

The difference between the world we live in

and the one we can create together

I write across the borders of memory, the barriers of my mother tongue

Borders are the empty space between our arms reaching for a hug that we fill

with hopeful hearts

My story crosses the border of your ears in snaky lines

Untethered to borders, my pen writes free

My body is a bundle of copper wire vibrating, oxidizing, and hearing.

My body is an engine with too many operating hours.

My ribs hum like the soundboard of a piano.

My funny bone sings bad jokes and corny words to a crowd full of brittle bones.

Only when we mimic the Atlantic waves reaching for the moon,

we may find peace within ourselves and co-exist as one unit.

Even the darkest of hearts have a piece of peace shining inside.

Peace prospers in people who seek potential voices.

Peace will come when all the women in the world have sleepovers and braid each other's hair and talk into the night and break bread in the morning, sleepy-eyed sisters sharing their humanity.

My Hair is a nation...full of Tribes with cultural stories of Breath

My Hands are Wombs....Giving LIfe to everything they Touch

My Eyes are golden chestnuts glancing around the ever changing world

My nails are bright unicorns directing my majestic words


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The Wick Poetry Center’s Traveling Stanzas workshops, exhibits, and programs bring poetry to people’s everyday lives and encourage new voices through innovative methods and digital platforms

For more information about how to bring Traveling Stanzas to your organization, contact David Hassler, Director, Wick Poetry Center at Kent State University.

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