about Summer

Summer teaches Spanish in Juneau, Alaska, where she lives with her commercial fisherman husband and two semi-feral children. She’s not sure how they came to be that way, but let’s just say that the pinecone never falls far from spruce tree.

(Until, of course, a squirrel piece-meals it much like Summer eats a blueberry muffin. Fun fact: her nickname in Spanish was squirrel.)

Summer is a winner of the Alaska Statewide Poetry Contest, and her work has appeared or is forthcoming in Motherwell Magazine, Lowestoft Chronicle, Third Wednesday, and Hellebore, among others.

She got her start in writing at a young age, which eventually metamorphosized into rapping and writing folk songs. She has a background in theater and dance, and occasionally choreographs numbers for her belly dance troupe, Daughters of the New Moon.

Summer has a Bachelors of Arts in People and Performing Arts of Latin America and the Caribbean and Masters in Education.

She also likes to play in nature with her kids and write songs on guitar. You might catch her at next open mic rapping about the budget, or something else equally uplifting.

Summer Koester is an award-winning writer and an educator, artivist, and culture disruptor in Lingít Aaní, "Land of Tides," a.k.a. Juneau, Alaska. Her words have appeared in New York Times, The Sun, McSweeney's Internet Tendency, Huffington Post, Insider Magazine, The Independent, and various buses around Juneau.

Follow Me :
  • The wind blows; light flickers – a familiar peace game; shalom { Miss you both} emails I can send through Facebook with no name.. The day angels came { Immigration } symbols white echoes through the trees, breaths new meaning joyful noise.. What peace can I say shalom too- pasts energetics youth

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