HARDWARE STALL by Jack, Misu, Timothy & Binh, age 9 & Angelina, age 8

Hardware Stall
By Jack, Misu, Timothy, Binh & Angelina 

Bottles jailed in plastic linger on the shelf, and tubes of glue dangle from the ceiling. 
Cans of spray paint roost in cabinets 
like sleeping canaries.
Behind the counter, 
the owner’s teeth 
sink into a chunk of apple.
Light pours onto her cheekbone,
eyes lock on the unknown.

Above her,
tape measures hang like 

spiders from silk.

Here is the same piece as a graphic poem with illustrations by the whole class!

PARADE OF LIGHT BY Cindy, Binh, Misu, Jack & Carmen, age 9 & Lily & Helen, age 10

Big Allaki Photo by Sergey Garifullin — National Geographic Your Shot
Chelyabinskay obl., Russia.

Parade of light

Fingers of green water grab a rock.
A vine of amber light grazes the ground.
in the sky like soda bubbles.
It’s as if
went to another planet,
leaving behind
a tree so lonely it thinks
its reflection is
a friend
for the specks
of light

TONGUE OF AMBER by Daniel R., age 8, Ali, Misu, Jack & Emily, age 9 & Anvivi, age 11

Northern light in Iceland Photo by Gudrún Hauksdóttir — National Geographic Your Shot
This photo was taken on my way to Thingvellir at ‘Mosfellsheiði’ 8th of October 2013.

Tongue of Amber

A cloak of emerald ombré
and crackles
across the atmosphere.  
Limbs of light
the color of a hummingbird’s neck
brighten the sky.
A tongue
of amber peeks
the horizon.
Colors race
towards a finish line
of light.
is a thing with

NAIL SALON by Helen, Tony, Ali, Jack, Timothy, Misu, Anvivi & Binh, age 9 & Carmen, Angelina, Vanessa & Emily, age 8

Nail Salon

Chemicals drift around my nose,
and bo
ttles of polish clatter 
and clink 
on the shelf. Clippers click,
files whisper,
dryers whir.
From beneath the sound,
Mom paints finger and toenails
the color of crashing Atlantic waves,
of morning,
of sunflowers,
of paradise,

and blood,
and a million stars
gleaming down
from a 


OFFICE By Misu, Binh, Jack, Tony, Nam & Timothy, age 9 & Angelina, age 8

By Misu, Angelina, Binh, Jack, Tony, Nam & Timothy 

From a wire above, papers dangle.
Bandages flu
er onto the floor,
and the smell of blood and Purell leaps through the air. 

Scribbled letters dance across 
white boards
that reflect
florescent light
and sunshine
piercing through the window.
Ms. Peggy slides a drawer shut 

and paper clips 
clink and scatter across her desk.
Steam rises from a mug of co
ffee, and when 
that kid who breaks crayons 
knocks it over,
dark liquid puddles on the floor.
Ring ring ring.
Click click click.

In the corner,
balls gobble air.