that blog life


I’ve been slacking and lacking here however if you follow my nine million other social media outlets, I’ve been keeping all you happy people posted as best as I can.

Queen of the Guttersnipe





There’s no shows coming up, however you can catch me most Tuesday hosting ReBar for the Seattle Poetry Slam and every Wednesday at Scratch Deli for Rain City Slam

Storytellers & Education


Last night I had the pleasure of MCing a event in partner with Seattle Times and the Education Lab where 5 different wonderful people from 5 extremely different backgrounds talked about their journeys getting and going to college. It was so moving and utterly inspiring. Afterwards there were resources and programs that the audience could take advantage of asking questions about education and college. For more info check out the two pieces the Seattle Times wrote.

Photos x Video

Education x StoryTellers

So excited to announce that I will be hosting this awesome event for the Seattle Times about two of my favorite things: Story telling and the education converse.

For those who don’t know, I never went to college, however believe education is so important! We debate and argue too much about it and this event does the better thing – starts a conversation. We aren’t looking to point blame or find a scapegoat but to start a discussion. So please join me in hearing 5 different epic and wonder stories about education, college, and the pros (even the cons) of state of school.

For more info check out the Seattle Times event page!

Also more info!

Bring your whole family. We’ll provide a light dinner, child-care and translation services. Please let us know what your needs are by emailing

Doors open at 5:30 p.m.

Storytelling begins at 6 p.m.

Admission is free, but you must register in advance. Click here to register online.

Langston Hughes Performing Arts Institute
104 17th Ave S, Seattle

The event is organized by Education Lab and the Road Map Project.


National Poetry Month 30/30 Week 1

the faucets keeps dripping. it’s beginning to be a huge waste of water.
my mother says their is a trick to get it to stop. hit it at an angle.
or hitting it really fast once.
i haven’t gotten that trick down. so i haven’t been sleeping home.
been calling different sheets mine in another’s bed. wondering what i’ve been missing.
i’ve been banging my head against wall. racking my brain. seeing if i can get it to stop.
my mother says their no trick for that. it just happens. then one day it just isn’t an issue anymore.
i haven’t gotten it down to a science yet. but been trying for weeks now.
i wonder if a tree can feel it’s growth. growing pains.
i feel like i am growing. i know i am getting older. my body more use to this gravity.
age is the price we pay to live. the sink is still dripping.
the water is being wasted. and so is my time. i don’t know how to fix either things.
so i pretend i am use to both.


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –



You are freight train big!


A southern giant in pinstriped overalls.

Mouth the size of the Mississippi River.

Teeth white and sharp like picket fences.


You are wide eye, midnight mind, silent type, kind of guy.


I always wonder if what my mama told me about you was true.

I always wonder if it was just my imagination. My bursting hope to get out of this town.

The pits of the sweats of this small town; has stained me.

(I got to get out of here)


You are rail roads and rail roads of ride. Of leaving this hiccup of a home.

Of “oh I’ve gone places.”

Of “Bright city lights, fast women, and jazz playing men.”


You be rolling hills,

and wide turns outs,



straight out this dust bin. The collected stay.

I am not gonna stay here, you know?


You are a horizon, a bed time tale.

Summer of age coming and ghost stories.

You got maps for hands and palm lines that crease.


Do you know

(you – the one listening

not the you i’m addressing)

Do you know there are roads

not made of dirt!



I wanna see that.

I really want to see that.


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –



When I was 7 I came to realize the term “family”

That girl is my sister.
That man is my father.
This women is my mother.
I then learned differences.

My sister is older than me.
My father is irish, so he speaks funny.
My mother is older. So she knows more than me.

I learned not everyone has the same family.

That boy is your brother.
That women is your mommy.
But there is no man.

I learned every family is different.

You have a mom and a dad
but your mom doesn’t live with you.

When I was 7 I learned families do not need to live in the same house.

When I learned the word “divorce” in the 3rd grade,
I carried that word home with me like a deck of cards,
a magic trick,
a blind bid,
an escape plan. Just in case.

I didn’t know that everyone has their problems.
That yelling isn’t but can be labeled normal.
An echo. That most families do fight. That most families ignore it.

It was strange to me
To watch mommy and daddy fight,
wondering why they just didn’t give up.
Why they didn’t just call it quits.
Why they didn’t just pick a card;
any card
and move on from there.

I learned that staying together is really hard.
But quitting isn’t any easier.

When I was 7 I wanted to be a magician.
Looking back I find that to be so stupid.
So naive. So silly.

When I was 7 I use to think magic was a thing.
Now I just see it as a hopeful distraction.


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –



When it worries you that they don’t make you feel like home.
Do they have too though? Do they need to be your shelter?
Maybe you’ve never felt home at all. That that’s what’s missing.
That gaping hole, that pit in your stomach, black hole sized,
that empty sick feeling you get when you haven’t slept in your own bed,
in a long time. Does it worry you that their skin isn’t anything like summer linens?
Or that you’ve never truly knew how to fit in your own. You are looking for home in all the wrong places.
You are looking for home. You are looking for a feeling. In all the wrong places.
All the wrong people?
Does it worry you that you’ve never felt that way. Or does it worry you more that you never will.


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –



Agnes Martin is a painter.

Canada born, schooling as of Taos New Mexico, with side tracks to New York. Referred to as minimalist, expressionist, abstract, a painter.
A women artist.
(Every artist is known by the title of their work and the year it was created.
Every women artist will be forever known by their art and by their gender.)During a time of self reflection (and personal frustration) Martin came to the patient position of wanting to state the physical form of “innocences.”
Which turned out to be a series of lines, stripes, and grids. She feels this was some of her best work because she did not feel the pressure of the art world. She finds it to be the best description of herself.

(Seeing this series, alone, at the Tacoma Art Museum – this is my response.)


This is where a poet’s response of art begins.

This is where a poet forgets their is art in front of her and begins to write.

This is where a female artist realizes she hates being stuck in the lines of being a “female artist” but not the art itself.

This is where a female artist forgets she is looking at art and becomes it.

This is where the realization that the painting doesn’t just live in a frame.

This is where it get’s tricky.


Art knows no gender. But the gender of it’s artist.

I say if we are to describe the female form – give me a line.

Give me a grid of plain, pale, and prefect lines.
Give me straight,
no temptations of a curve. The innocences of forward thinking.

Give me what you think of me.
Give me all your opinions, all your criticism.
For I will take them.
And being a women, a mothering creature, a caring cruse,
meaning “one who without even trying will”
take them on.

Will take care of these insults and sigma’s as those they were my own.
As though I said them to myself.

The ugly ones.
The dented ones. Crocked comments you feel will suit me best.

I will care for these as though they are my own.
Because you believe it be so.
You after all,
created women.

Give me no manly touch. Give me no grease or grind.
Clean, clear. Clean clear lines.
Give me what I can and can’t do.



Tell me.


I am women.
I am a box of a body.
Fill me in. Tell me to stay where I belong.
Paint around me.
Leave me hollow,
Protect me from my own art. From my own findings.
Hide the sharp from me. Give me flat, and running,
and running.
Keep me on the trail. Keep me on the straight & narrow.
Name every path after me.
Pull me parallel – in both directions.


Lay me flat. Smooth me out.
Mark all the boxes. Check all the squares.
Keep me where you can find me next time.
Study my flexibility. Notice no bend.


Condemned me when I fray from the notion that a straight line only travels forward.
Forward. Forward.
Banish me when I begin to thread with beads of my own sweat along this line.
Burry me back in my box when I begin to make this my own.


Punish me!
When I begin to adventure,
off course.


– – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – – –



You’ve been this way for as long as you can remember.
You’re the one crying in the kitchen and it’s your father, YOUR father apologizing he didn’t give you everything he thinks you wanted.
You don’t really understand what happened. You don’t even really remember being there.
You just remember things were said that were mean, hurtful, heavy thick nasty words.
Most of them from your mouth. You honestly don’t know how you got here.
You have embarrassed yourself. Now paranoid everyone was right. Everyone will judge you.
Everyone warned him. You are now replaying it in your head.
over and over and over again.
This isn’t healthy.

You are an island.
The most popular island.
You throw the best parties. You throw the best charade.
You are too good at this.
You are a lonely one. You are sick for this.
But oddly you are truly comfortable in that.

The only time you’ve been in an abusive relationship,
is when you are alone.


April = Poetry Month = 30/30

It’s that time of year again! Where poets and writers create one poem a day for the whole month of April. I am off to a good start, seeing as it’s only the 2nd day and I have written two poems already. I will post my poems here on the blog but every week so not to make the posts look messy.

I also proud to announce that I am working with my favorite slam collective Rain City Slam by doing a workshop writing feature tonight at scratch deli instead of their normal feature and slam. This is a way to help poets who are taking part in 30/30. Giving up advice, tips, and creative ways at looking at each day as a way to advance yourself as a writers and not seeing it as a challenge or a chore.

For daily writing prompts check in with their tumblr here and for more details about tonight’s event check out here.

As for my 30/30 – check out here or my facebook!

Things you should put on your calendar!

I hate that with this blog you can’t really see links. But anything BOLD is a link, so go on click. Watch what magical places it will take you!

TONIGHT (meaning 03/18/2014) I’ll be hosting at ReBar with feature poet (and best friend) Ela Barton

TOMORROW (meaning 03/19/2014) I’ll be hosting at Scratch Deli for Rain City Poetry slam’s last semifinal

March 30th co-hosting Rain City Poetry Championship Slam
but tickets HERE

In June I will be taking part and teaching a workshop at the Chuckanut Writers Conference! I am so excited and utterly honored. So please check back for more details as we get closer and closer to the day.


My Google talk is up and running! I am too nervous to wake it myself. So please – watch it for me! Make sure to comment, share, and enjoy!

Upcoming Unicorn Events

I know, I know, easy. But I truly love unicorns! So with that said here are some up coming events I will taking part in:

March 7th – Hosting Youth Speaks Seattle WILD Card Slam
Youth Speaks Seattle Twitter HERE
Facebook event HERE

March 16th – Special Guest at Hedgebrook Equivox 2014
Hedgebrook Twitter HERE
Website info HERE

March 16th (evening) – Palladium Show
*Details coming soon*

March 30th – co-hosting Rain City Slam Finals
Rain City Twitter HERE
Facebook events info HERE


Side note my blog “The Intern Archives” is turning five years old on March 8th! CRAZY


First off – Happy Holidays AND Happy New Year! Hope everyone had a great time. I know this time of year is super magical and amazing but also overwhelming. But guess what you got through it. Now write about. Write as much as you can. Now – NEWS

Guess who is going to Google? THIS POET.


I am so excited and honored. I have the absolute pleasure of doing a Google Talk on the campus on February 13th! I am working out what brilliant mistakes I will be presetting the lovely people of Google. But I promise you it will be entertaining as hell! There will be poetry, laughs, awkward pauses, and I promise to wear a pair of great leggings.

So people of Google or Bay area friends – Help Spread the word! More information soon.

Also – make sure to keep updated on my adventures: (Links below)

Queen of The Guttersnipes

I am “big” on the internet

Not really. Not even a little. (Haha!) I am big in the sense that I am a big fan of most social media. So come peeps! Follow along on my #StrongFemaleCharacter journey:



Tumblr – The intern archives

Guttersnipe Fashion Blog