On the Side

When I was in high school, my plan was to major in English once I got to college. That plan was mostly based on my penchant for correct grammar and my love of creative writing, and it really had no basis on career plans. Most of the people in my life said, "Yeah, an English degree, that'd be great. Would you like fries with that?" I saw their point.

I realized, however, that studying journalism would be a more practical approach to exercising my grammar and writing muscles, and I've come to love this ever-evolving and fast-paced field.

I've put a few of my favorite pastimes on the back-burner in favor of school and work, but I still indulge when I get the chance.

Below are a few examples of pictures and poems I've had published in literary magazines. (Click thumbnails to enlarge.)

Dance poem

Published in B. T. Washington High's "Thirteen" magazine, 2008

Sea Oats

Published in the University of Florida's "Tea" magazine, 2010


Published in the University of Florida's "Tea" magazine, 2010



Nobody but her
saw the child dance —
tiny limbs taunting
pursuant waves
as they followed
her steps, sea foam
snapping, sizzling
at her toes like
fading fireworks.
Swimsuit flushed pink
like her cheeks, magnolia-
petal feet sliding one way
and then the other
as if trying to keep her steady
on the deck of a ship
pitching wildly in the sea.
Like a sprite on the shore
willing the waves to give
chase, she leaps away
before they can touch her.

Slow Down

Slow down, you're going too fast —
Lines of highways merging, converging,
our car's swerving to the breakdown lane,
taking a breather even though you wasted
your breath on the way up this hill

that's so high it crests in the clouds
and the yellow lines that cage the tires
in the pavement zoo keep leading us
around the same track in our one-track
minds. The definition of insanity is doing
the same thing over and over and over
and over again and expecting something

new! exciting! different! —
hackneyed words that lost their sense
a hundred miles back when this trip
still had flavor, had direction,
went beyond the car windows.
But instead we're shut inside
with only each other to stare at

and blame.