Miranda Schmidt, 2017 Lambda Literary Fellow

Miranda Schmidt, 2017 Lambda Literary Fellow



something that really just absolutely wanted to be here with all of you this week he's reading something so inspiring really wonderful with such beautiful and inspiring things this is you don't really need a lot a context I don't think this is just the first few pages that they're working on it's a fairy tale it has to do with shape-shifting teenagers and I still do the wings at night in that space between waking and sleeping where for a moment I have no shape ball and Beulah there are all of our strength the rivers of light the rustle of others in here most nights they leave me and I startled that games my human lens solid and earthbound I think was 16 year old girl and a house of lost children all wearing the same brand of discount PJs they're so nice here in pure talent the seven bears the away into dreams and that's the next life you can't imagine what flying is not really not unless you've done it now because you felt within through your feathers the power of wings to steer you through currents the hanging lights building just about the world the kids in his house may look normal but we know we're lost in found things past memories of parents and homes and cradles and toys once upon a time before the other memories became the lines of water were error was those knowing that feel like dreams shot through the deepest was taking them for me they call us stolen children were primitive hurst/olds that only meant remembers how in the first place we were taken less but in this house we've seen return we see an adjusted and happy and so close to normal we almost believed it ourselves you go to school with everyone else in our town we plan sports teams join clubs playing college applications and it's only sometimes that we stay on the water in the pool or a moment too long like Hazleton wandering and holding our breath will bring back our lost girls only sometimes that we find ourselves out of the long how Ryan at the moon lake tip feeling the night on our faces and knowing that are here only half here half real have children it is only on some eggs they dream of aims and they perched on the other than their self ready to fly this is one of those nights I went to moving to this year alone an error on my face and for a second I think return back I feel my raven body my shirt eats and talons my lightnings i feel my old corded line reading the arm to escape that I raised my wings the arms I remember may grow like human skin when the barrel eyes and my person brain case manager remind me of groggy I step off remember still endowment amendment sugaring her cold October lemon it used to be that on these nights at creep down the ableton I so into her vanity whisper about times but Hawaii water and biting through airless paint both relying on our currents and instinct you know when she woke up giving reckless as if she were drowning in air she slipped up to my attic we talked all night sometimes we both think the fur head on my shoulder and my arms wrapped around her tonight I don't know what to do not now that cables gone so he would have done almost less what she's been mentioned and go downstairs and put on my boots and make my way down to the water I follow her searching its banks just in case I searched her limbs of hair or a flash of familiar eyes above the river until it a snoozefest dreary their eyes down on the shore no God knows the ocean and laid her upon me she never does so makes why I'm worn out

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