Michelle Awad has only recently grown into calling herself a poet. So much so, now, that she's branded herself with it. Tennessee native turned New Orleanian, she firmly believes in going where your heart no longer feels homesick. She believes in staying there as long as you can. More than anything, she has an inkling that space and time are on our side. That aliens are real. That there are little pieces of the celestial inside all of us. That sometimes, they resemble each other. That sometimes, they connect. In her spare time, you can find her sitting on her back porch in Algiers with a telescope and that idiot she's in love with, sipping a gin cocktail and listening to the sounds of the city. Her dog is probably there, too, protecting the yard from squirrels. Michelle Awad has only recently grown into calling herself a poet. So much so, now, that she's branded herself with it. Tennessee native turned New Orleanian, she firmly believes in going where your heart no longer feels homesick. She believes in staying there as long as you can. More than anything, she has an inkling that space and time are on our side. That aliens are real. That there are little pieces of the celestial inside all of us. That sometimes, they resemble each other. That sometimes, they connect. In her spare time, you can find her sitting on her back porch in Algiers with a telescope and that idiot she's in love with, sipping a gin cocktail and listening to the sounds of the city. Her dog is probably there, too, protecting the yard from squirrels.