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i am who i am | a poem

i am who i am | a poem

or, what I wish I had known how to say when you told me, at age ten, that I intimidated boys (and meant that was a bad thing)
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
I am here, now | a poem

I am here, now | a poem

I dreamed myself into your city. // I woke up in the house you own, woke up in your bed covered in the quilts my mother gave me
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Psalm for winter in San Francisco | a poem

Psalm for winter in San Francisco | a poem

In the garden you gave me, I planted a tree and see how strong the roots did grow —
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Psalm on the streets of Prenzlauer Berg | a poem

Psalm on the streets of Prenzlauer Berg | a poem

To be with you is to walk alone on quiet city streets —  a nearly silent soundtrack of leather soles and their soft krisks…
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Small Mercies | a poem

Small Mercies | a poem

What might have been the fury of moths is merely loss to age and worry — which spread with less ferocity […]
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Another way of saying I still think of you | a poem

Another way of saying I still think of you | a poem

I’ve been conducting a study of brokenness in the city with an emphasis on glass and dreams.
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Psalm in Rittenhouse Square | a poem

Psalm in Rittenhouse Square | a poem

Rows of tulips enrobed in red velvet stand captivated, having paused in midst of all their rush to marvel at the soft light of the sun
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Pilgrim, Question | a poem

Pilgrim, Question | a poem

I went to a place loved by you on pilgrimage to absorb that quality for myself…
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Marie Chatfield Rivas
tilting spinning house | a found poem

tilting spinning house | a found poem

It takes only the slightest breeze to set us in motion. we begin to twirl.
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Marie Chatfield Rivas
The Art of Crying in Public: Exhibit A, Weekend Trip to Philadelphia | a poem

The Art of Crying in Public: Exhibit A, Weekend Trip to Philadelphi...

It begins on the plane ride, dark and quiet, hurtling through the night, against time, across the continent
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
instructions for the zombie apocalypse | a poem

instructions for the zombie apocalypse | a poem

when the zombie apocalypse comes, i hope my body dies and stays dead
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
fe·lic·i·ty (noun) | a poem

fe·lic·i·ty (noun) | a poem

consider the pull-to-refresh gesture ubiquitous in mobile and tablet software
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Concerning the Window | a poem

Concerning the Window | a poem

I confess: I have broken the window, the one in the kitchen.
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
Perambulation on Irving | a poem

Perambulation on Irving | a poem

A red rust helium balloon walks down the street, wrapped in my peacoat
Go to the profile of Marie Chatfield Rivas
Marie Chatfield Rivas
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