finch
LightNews LightNews
banner
finchxiao.bsky.social
finch
@finchxiao.bsky.social
5 followers 5 following 5 posts
they
🐡
poet & photographer // 🇨🇳 american // queer & autistic
Posts Replies Media Videos
finchxiao.bsky.social
sonnet for my creative writing course #poem #poetry
poem reading as follows: “Hey, do you want to run away with me? We can sprawl our legs across the dorm couch. Cook shitty eggs in the low light of the morning. When you’re back from parties, I’ll crouch next to you and talk ‘til you get it out. Look, I’m scared of going there all alone. The truth is that I cannot go without having someone near me I can call home. So, if you don’t find it too much trouble, could you meet me on a sunlit sidewalk where the sparrows still busily bumble? On the way in, we’ll bump shoulders and talk of a future that looks so much brighter, laughing on the floor, our hearts feel lighter.”
January 19, 2025 at 7:23 AM
Reposted by finch
scalzi.com
I'm seeing a lot of GoFundMes today, for people displaced by disaster/war, and for other purposes, so if you/a friend have a GoFundMe (or other legit personal fundraising appeal) running, here's a thread for you to use to raise awareness. Go ahead and post the details and links in the comments.
January 9, 2025 at 10:09 PM
finchxiao.bsky.social
chewing my melatonin gummies to shreds and imagining a world less angry right now what about you!

#poem #poetry #writing #writer #prose #prosepoem
poem: Stories You Write to Your North Pole Pen Pal ten days before Christmas, the lights bathe the suburban town drowned in white in color, reds & yellows & blues like a kid’s paint palette, titanium snow dusting a cardinal’s feathers; children toss snowballs & sled down slick hills in the night because the lit-up star garlands make the day eternal. when the cold slithers into their puffy coats, they’ll disappear through their garage doors & discard their damp boots entering a portal in which there is hearty laughter & a warm dinner awaiting their frigid bodies. but Mama still isn’t home, instead downing eggnog at her party, below the mistletoe while Mariah Carey fills the room behind her. from our old brown couch, though, I can only hear the crackle of fire burning behind grates, orange dappling the ornaments on the fake pine. the warmth cannot reach me & it is cold & the wood house creaks in the breeze. there is nothing for me here aside from microwave dinners & one gift wrapped neatly (too pretty to tear apart, so it lies untouched on the dinner table along with instant mashed potatoes) so I flee to the porch, step out onto bright sheets of snow, watch the pale tectonics crack beneath my weight. tonight, I will desecrate the serenity of our front lawn & make snow angels in the soft ruins & they will keep me company.
January 13, 2025 at 6:03 AM
finchxiao.bsky.social
#poetry #poem #writing #writer
POETRY, reads: when winter comes, I have plans to stare a heatwave into the snow, ice my wounds with the ground until they fall off, & still, you’ll be there in the wiry maws with the lint spiders in my pockets & the gnat murmurations in the window screen. for such a long time I was a varmint before I was ever a beast, unruly before ever being majestic, & still, I fell asleep quickly to birdsong. in the morning, in the white window, it smelt like chocolate & unnamable endings, so I will call it light. I will eat warmth & cold & be avian & beastly & I will call it light. Finch Xiao
January 13, 2025 at 2:43 AM