We cut the new moon in the night sky
As it opens
A full moon appears
with a creamy white taste.
Sitting in Our Mancave Eating Spaghetti Watching Finding Nemo
4 walls & no windows
I’m boxed in
72’’ of HD on Demand
Did you know clownfish can change genders?
To my left I see
my noodly delight
But I’m all alone
I have been an avalanche
I have choked myself and those around me
I heard the dying, yelling, neverending
only to be muffled by my collosal hands.
I have swept off my perch and I have
swung my fists at one tiny whisper.
I have frozen those around me and
let silence fall over a town I’ve despised.
And even after my rage has staggered away
I still crush anyone who screamed.
The cold will rot you.
My love is the soft wet,
dew-covered early morning grass
under your bare feet in your front
My love is a chorus of
mockingbirds, blue jays, and robins
harmonizing in the early sunrise.
My love is the fresh
scent of a newly-blossomed
tulip among a garden of roses.
My love is baby bunnies
hopping in the newly planted
vegetable garden in my grandma’s
My love is an ice-cold sweet tea that
has been brewed by the midday
Rules for Night Time
Listen to your mother’s story
You must hear the coyote’s howl
Let the stars put you to sleep
Tell the canaries not to sing
Watch the gems in the pine.
The smell of red is like the
Macy’s fragrance department.
The smell of cold is the smell
of burning wood.
The taste of silence is like
dark chocolate and almonds.
The color of thunder is pencil
any man that’s behind bars
all soda pop connoisseurs
all slow red olives
any squirrel with a costume
all people with dirty sinks
any people that lie about their weight
all kids that’s toy car was ruined by carpet
any mom that’s forgot about their child’s teeth
It never leaves its partner
As they sit on a snowy white mountain.
It has a stone in its belly
That only a bite can remove
My ocean is a star
she can’t go anywhere
without the paparazzi coming.
The telephone is always ringing
with guys that want to go out.
It doesn’t help that her eyes
are a thousand years away.
She is a champion at surfing.
My ocean is the captain of her ship,
and no one dares cross her.
When she’s mad she changes the clouds.
She is a mother lion when
it comes to her territory.
She winks at her visitors.
To Anyone Who Hates The Selfie
When did you stop believing in the violet
dreams of young artists?
When did your confidence shatter into
Do you cheer at the thought of self-hatred,
the self-hatred you inspire in selfie-takers?
Your judgment is like a gunshot to hopes
But our love tasts as sweet as a fresh tangerine.
We will not let you let us hate ourselves.
We will take selfies in Memphis, we will love
how they make us feel and we will never
give up on those dreams we hard when
we were seven. That only makes us try harder.
We will never grow old and bitter and
let our hatred be delivered as hurricanes to
our children’s self love.
Keep taking selfies. Keep loving yourself!
And we cry
when you get hurt.
The sound of a rainbow is the sound of softly
falling snow upon my skin.
The taste of black is dark and bitter like thinking
there’s another step on a staircase but finding none.
The smell of cold is sharp and tangy like spicy
food that clears your sinuses.
The feel of red is soft and silky like the way
charm falls from charismatic people’s lips.
Jordan Anne Young
West Junior High School
West Memphis, AR
Date of Visit: May 1 – 2, 2014
Faculty Sponsor: Emma Foster
Grade Levels: 8, 9
Appx. Number Students Served: 180
Visiting Writers: Kevin Dougherty, Megan Downey, Michelle Myers, and Hank Pate