Dear beautiful reader,

Happy 11/1!

An exciting portal for manifestation, today is also the two year anniversary of this creative project! Reflecting on that journey, my intention for this newsletter was to 1) to keep myself accountable to write (good or bad stuff!) 2) have a safe community and space to do so with. Now two years later, I’ve got a prolific amount of first drafts— of poetry now, even! So thank you for being a part of that and for receiving me so wonderfully. The best part, of course, has been connecting with you via email.

Hm… now what to say about October? Well, physically, and emotionally, it was a month of growing pains.

On a physical level, I got my third pass to my third pool. (Whenever one would close for repair, typically I’d skip out, but now needing water like air, it’s got me driving all around the city for my daily lap swim). And clearly, reading back on all my poetry this month, I am still having a major love affair with the city pool.

I am actually even considering joining Masters Swimming, which is an adult-based training program for competition. That idea alone is absolutely nuts because although I work out daily and enjoy movement deliciously, I am not an athlete whatsoever!

However, I just know I am part-fish, and think it could be… fun? My body is also the strongest it’s ever been due to swimming (and yoga, pilates) and no longer restricting myself, diet-wise.

On an emotional level, as I am approaching 32, it is officially wedding season! In my little corner of the universe. I’ve been attending weddings alone since I was 25. Being apt to traveling the world alone, frequently eating at restaurants alone, attending weddings is not the most challenging of those, but it is definitely the most sentimental! And I love love. As life would have me in a serious pruning stage, my circle is extremely small, so if you’re still standing here with me, it feels a bit divinely ordained too.

Two weeks ago, one of my high guy best friends, who I’ve known since I was 15, got married. It felt like a high school reunion. And today, my college guy best friend, who I’ve known since we were 18 from the Daily Bruin, is getting married in just a few hours! It’s been such a trip, walking down memory lane. I’ve known these awesome boys (men) for over a decade, each, and I am so excited to celebrate with them. Also spending time with people from high school— a rarity— had me unexpectedly unearthing some buried feelings.

You’ll get what I mean when you read this month’s poetry.

Sometimes I stress myself about not writing enough or all the time— like the greats say to— but I remind myself that the greatest artists allowed themselves the space and time to live and feel deeply to the highest extent. Otherwise, the source for inspiration is barren and dry. So I’ve been living my life.

Also, I was set to finish my largest painting to date this month but you know what, can’t rush a masterpiece! That’s what I’m telling myself. Also painting so big, over five feet, is like creating five detailed paintings in one, whoda thunk? Not this novice! Haha.

Alright, please write me, I’d love to hear from you. Any life updates, projects, and passions you’ve been pursuing!

Mucho luv & hugs,
Amy

Masters Swimming

And this time—
when both gates are open,

I won’t scatter
like a cockroach being cupped.

I’ll stay poolside
Olympic-pool-sized capacity
for holding

Melanin-soaked love 
in the summer sun,
we’ll swim like the Masters
A special class of competition

Stroke after stroke,
breath after breath
it might just be
the greatest romance of all time.

Island in the Sun

It's up for debate— 
I might be the saddest girl in the world 
But for certain— 
I must be the most oblivious 
girl in the world…

And the other boys were too busy
combing, counting their peach fuzz
and picking on me

But you’re a boy 
who enjoys being a boy
I suppose it’s that Piscean wisdom
we both share

And it’s been a while—
almost a decade now—
I’ve been a bee floating in the city pool 
Drowning but alive

But returning, here with you, 
suddenly I’ve become 
a sea turtle sitting 
on an Island in the Sun 
again

Knocking shoulders, laughing 
And how?
did you remember
how 
much I used to love Weezer,
when we were sixteen?

Back in my butt pocket,
I’m only carrying sunblock for that smile
you’re always flashing

And I want to thank you for that.

Afternoon Tea

(Racist, white feminist) Sylvia Plath died 
on my birthday
in the same year my mother was born
February 11th, 1963
Virginia Woolf was an Aquarius, too,
who understood the importance
of a room of her own
Lady from the future—
Georgia O’Keeffe ditched traditional
Victorian dresses for pantsuits
A century before
The original desert minimalist before any one of us
Joshua Tree hipsters,
even before Kim and Kanye hijacked 
Vervoordt
And Frida? She was a master alchemist—
proposed pain into propped paintings

And perhaps, when I join the Sky,
I can have afternoon tea
and unravel these yarns of ideas:
Hey, what was it like?
How did you survive?
How did you not go mad?
Over those tiny cucumber sandwiches
that I love so much.

And if you did—
Well, some of you did—
I understand.
I understand!

Revenge Marriage

Gummy, rubber smile
Grits through her teeth
Grandmother spectacles
Double chin chagrin
She’s got that stench of tit-for-tat

If comparison is the thief of all joy,
alarm bells ring, daily, of cheap 
yellow platitudes
and oversaturated photos
on her feed

Hunch back shame
Back then, he was built like a 
naive poplar tree
Thin,
like his porous spirit, too

Now he’s got that 
Morgan Wallen frame,
Except the country singer 
at least knows to throw
a chair off a rooftop—
and not at me—

‘ya hear me?!’

Bloated masculinity
Finally got some meat on them bones
from all the dead women he 
carries on his back
and the one
he’s been 
employing as a 
rehabilitation center

Bitter battery acid, 
They’ve been bleached in.
Both superstitiously sick 
with that same disease—
start-and-stall

They languidly drag their feet
across thousand of miles 
in an arid desert,
prisoners of their own cognition
I surmise,
grinding all those gears—
only to gain an inch,

What the hell happened to the 
goddamn ignition?

Then wife chops that precious inch
off 
the next day with an 
over-compensation 
Instagram 
caption

Ah! 
So it’s peas—
for the brains

“When you come for MY man!!”
She squawked 
Hm, the letter was to warn her 
of a potential intersection
of masculine violation
I just about released the letter to the public
Let the guillotine decide

However, the physical gifts for integrity 
may be minimal and unseen,
but the internal rewards are an 
abundant stream—
omnipotent and discerning

For, now I know—
no warning necessary
when they both are nothing but
parallel 
lines

It’s no wonder—
Doomsday is every other month 
Shoes, falling from the gaping sky!
Stolen cars, karmic retribution!
The Universe has been watching.

No weapon formed against 
the High Priestess
shall ever prosper…

He thought it revenge
But he married his own reflection
Someone just as Texas ice sweetened tea 
as he
Processed 
by the loads

The best, most handsome 
husband and the best 
most supportive wife 
and what would we 
ever do without each other!
Oh golly, oh gee!

Sigh—
It’s a match made in melancholic heaven
Pulchritudinous petty pandering
Chain and, oh what a, ball!

And
Til death—
do you two apart, my love!

Truly,
I wish you 
all the best.

Prom, Homecoming, Sadie’s

90 °F heat in late October has me confused for summer
but the air is so dry, sadly I know what month it is
Goggle tan gives me a permanent highlight
They come gliding across the deck then sit in the next lane,
Underneath these aqua-sheets,
I peek: Have you ever seen such gorgeous weathered skin 
and shiny silver hair?
They must’ve been around seventy-six

He passes her her rubber swimming cap
and she carefully places their pink towel 
for sharing on the starting block
They glance over at me, kicking my feet

In first, second, and third period, 
You and I were sixteen
Whiteboard eraser, scent of Expo markers
Seats assigned right next to each other in Chemistry
Every morning, you’d clandestinely slip me your homework 
and let me copy without even changing it a little
For I sure didn’t understand chemistry
(or the one between us, if ever)

Starving myself thin, we were twenty-five in my loft
I hadn’t seen you both since graduation
When you left for the land of anteaters
And I, for the bruins
It was such a trip, you and Kevin in my new reality,
worlds collide.
What ever happened to that Chinese take-out place 
we used to go to
after it burned down?
How’s Diana?
Dry spell, not particularly doing well, so we talk about it.
Crisp denim jacket and warm smile has me confused
for senior year again—
But I know what year it is
because you both are engineers now.

We are almost thirty-two
I cried the whole week after Kevin’s wedding
Knees buckled, moment of weakness,
I couldn’t help but slip a look of love
So handsome in that gray and green suit
And I saw you drunk for the first time
when a strange flurry of fear took over—

I laughed. What’s there to be afraid of, silly?
The fear of how—
I’ll just tell you she’s the luckiest girl in the world
And that you’re still my ‘favorite
koala in all of the treeezzzz 8)’

Disco ball on the dance floor, thundah clap!
“Cupid Shuffle” in our suits and gowns
has me confused for prom
but I know what year it is.
Because you’re getting married soon too
And I’m so happy for you.

And you know, I’m not the type to look back—
Unless it’s to pick up the rest of my dress
But you have me flipping through photo albums:
Lunch break in the quad, Frantone’s pizza fundraisers,
seventeenth birthday at no-rae-bahng
sitting right there next to me…
keeping a close distance

And I’m the girl that when she leaves—
she leaves no trace, smudging away my footsteps in the mud
My phone number, I change every few years

But you got me back in my hometown
looking back at you.

We could’ve been seventy-six at the pool.