I would like to thank Katherine Factor, Eric Metzler, and Erin Latimer for helping this project become a reality. A million thanks to the AEL foundation for giving me this opportunity. And finally, thank you to my mentor Kazim Ali, you will always remain an inspiration to me and my work.
Ode to the Sun Desert sun Silver light imprints Heat waves drifting across the desert sand Midnight sun Through branches luminous and silent From the shore it leads me home Underwater sun Ripples of light scan the quiet floor The surface above is a gold mirror, flickering Mountain sun Saturates the valleyâ€™s cold face The smell of sage rises with it
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Wild Idyll Press Idyllwild, CA 2011
Scintillation Your teeth Sapphire in the early light Your skin A peach in the blazing sun Haze of sunrise, steady, rises into tangerine brilliance Warmth of the sun paints white washed walls As dusk melts, my fingers skate along your side Dream-catcher brushing against the wall
Atonement Concrete Cold on my palms Flooding iron Taste on my tongue Pulse is a hammer in a cloth sack
Newport Spilling on the charred cement Ashes where gold flickers disintegrated Tart juice stings my lip Silver surface is a mirage I cried For a lack of words Pain the early hours Sleep through the whirs of the rickety old fan Time stretches Like yarn from a ball of string Skeletons stilt along sidewalks Their arms like chimes in the distance I slept Like two teeth grating Pill thick with inscriptions Says Watsonâ€™s Bubbling from its chalky interior The sky folds like linen Clouds form in the hot July air
Sallow Heavy hands Trace circles On the tired wood Gravel crunches Beneath their steps Smoky shadows rise And the dusk slowly surrenders To the dull cycle
Attic â€œThere are ghosts in the atticâ€? You said Your kiss tasted like lemons Your eyes were sad In the attic We fell through floors And read books Stared at the words until they lost their meaning
Untitled Untied laces Shoes dangling over the ledge The scent of crumpled dollars in sweaty palms Rises with the sun Criss-crossed telephone wires cut the blue sky like daggers Click-clack; a pair of red suede stilettos cut the blackened sidewalk It is mid-afternoon and ice melts like sugar in a pan A child cracks an egg on the sidewalk to test his theory Now the blinding sun begins to drift Behind buildings Leaving a fuschia glow in its wake
Sway On your roof We watched the night Got close enough to touch the sky Make the circles sway Our faces white-hot like stars A silver bullet shoots through the navy curtain
Silence and rebirth A young child clings to his motherâ€™s hems Dark, impersonal eyes dart Like little fish Fear of the unknown simmering in his chest Translucent to strangers
Dead Generation Days drag like cigarettes behind the 7-11 Static becomes a song and a routine At speeds faster than our words It fills my head with empty laughter and rehearsed lines Staticâ€™s tongue spits acid and sacrilege Against the God that I have doubted and feared my whole life Laughing in the face of evil; of the deceiver Spitting on those who defy it It devours the uncertain and the young Grey matter; grave matters
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Kat Deiter is a senior at Idyllwild Arts Academy with a major in Jazz Drumming. She comes from the Kentucky, and yes, she likes fried chicken. Besides drumming, her interests include writing and reading poetry, and photography.