email: amandallama@excite.com age: 20 school: UNH major: English passions: words, hairdye, veganism, feminism, queer rights, spelling colour the british way. also published in: being published isn't important to me. other accomplishments: considers self arch nemesis of george w., watched the entire second season of "queer as folk" in under a month. publishing goals: to have "The Chauvinist + The Freshman" recognized as a brilliant piece. other accomplishments: learning to apply liquid eyeliner.

*Spoken word featured in "Harmony Conspiracy"*

Poetry

Dover's Autumn e.e. makes me believe Sonnet Thank You, Mother The Freest Kind of Verse

Thank You, Mother

  Okay, so I've been reading this book
called CUNT.  And yeah, I have one.
  I've gotta say - I do feel kinda lucky
in the genetics department.
  Long obsessed have I been with
embaressing friends by publicly
announcing how amazing it is that
they were BIRTHED from their
mothers' vaginas.
  I say, "Think of your mom. Think
of her vagina.  YOU CAME OUTTA
there!"
  Usually my friends are
closer to mortification than exclamations
/of joy.
           But I, well I gotta say
           I'm amazed. Blown away.
Because my mother did push me from
her womb, into the world... Naked +
amazed I came.  And I've stayed /
                    Amazed.

I'm actually one inch taller than
the woman who carried me inside her.
And I could just marvel at this...
                                           forever.

  I realize vaginas are not usually
a trendy topic of discussion amongst
my peers. I see the cringing / +
though creeping out the modest
does appeal to me - it's not my
goal.

  I simply relish
       in knowing
           her womb
              created my womb

And she
    will always be
        the truest sense of home
            I know. 

The Freest Kind of Verse

e.e., oh how i long to know
you.
I fear I like you better
than anything in the sky,
         and that
is something
         you
can't know
because allthegreatpoets
are dead.

And we, literature's newest
babes
are swaddled in
the irony
        of wishing for
you
        when we have
each other.

Sonnet

Thinking of sonnets
sure makes me want to vomit
I prefer / haikus!

Dover's Autumn

last fall
when i didn't live in dover,
i went there.
i remember the prospect
of new romance;
and an overabundance of yellows
reds
and orange (a testament
to new england’s fire season).
but as autumn gave birth to
halloween, and cupid
shot two arrows deftly into the night,
i narrowly escaped
and left dover the same way
i had come.

e.e. makes me believe
(inspired by his "i thank you God for most this amazing")

one day in last october i asked for
blisses:in return i met an injured caterpillar
who needed me to help; she was laying on hot black
tar to shrivel up(away) and to her i said yes

(i moved her to a leaf and walked away,
feeling whole from the warm;blue of the skies
thanking Mother Earth: for this glorious day
and little bugs with heavenly ties)

and if she and i could open up our believing
to surpass—human bug relations
not the taking of the earth—but receiving
graces unimaginable.  We.

(upon opening souls like candy wrappered treats
we will be sweetened and left to filling our teeth)