24.11.10

for MyGoose

empty breasted face panes are talking to me about options. collaborative counseling and my you
is in the room, but i asked for the bandages to be removed. the bandages removed. are you
dancing to wards that spirit gummed hussy with the black fur when all i could afford was the blue
and you never wanted me the same. i wanted to eat you to the spring hours, but i think you lost
my number, i could send it again? again, you wink calloused fingers and i collapse in between the binding
string on the composition notebook. you hide your ticket stubs there. of all the movies that made you
think of me before we met. can we meet again?

16.10.10

flavored development

Eating giants on cornflakes while the sugar dives for oysters who hid the last radio show under their tongues tasting the saccharine and spearmint. I search for gelatin air waves, but I think I am landlocked. And drowning. Like a salt coated slug. Pink germaniums. why do I only write when my cardboard surroundings crumple to the wind’s hand? the internet reads sentiments like praying mentis eating at innards. I quickly try to close my abdomen but the bike ride is too long and I drag behind. where were you with my lunch bag, when I was choosing to scalp baby birds and writing addendums to endings that were never mine. I am thinking about a drug habit. But my veins leak rhino beetles and mothers cry on hill sides. Where every side if green. But the void is what. Until I stop having trouble growing antlers, but 13 years of puberty eats inside out and fawns have moved on. You are grammatically seizing and the foam blinds my hands so we sit spit conjunctions and sentence diagrams like back inked tattoos.

21.9.10

dear hair, grow faster.

that is all I can say.

new poem thing:

hey vestal. i though about the yesterday and you should shorten the hearspeak. i can only taste the jargon when i got to that one porch where you ripped your shoe lace, but i don't seem to remember the shade. madison was smaller this year, shrinking the porn shops to doll houses, in a child love sort of way. my mother will delete this. vestal call me two ten. and then.
and then.

8.7.10

just now

just wrote this, at work. I actually am kind of excited about it. I am reading a LOT lately, so that is good.





sometimes your face looks like a horse
when i forget your long vowels
and long eyes
drawing out each b
blinked
and i forget about your elbows
the angles that speak
to each of my rib bones
about the menial items
like weather next week
and the girls on the block
with too long legs

5.7.10

the fourth

wrote this yesterday on the bus on the way to fireworks...



when graveyard suns
lick my face
yesters sane into
the background and
I want to wear you home.

your reaction to
my arm length
left me
lingering for rained feathers.

30.6.10

plans for plans

this is a poem I wrote a few weeks ago. it is one of a number that I have written in the past few weeks that I want to compile into a chapbook.




I left on moths
taste of solar dust
taken from the ceiling fan
sealing plans
for when you send limbs
to daughterhouses
you left empty curling spouses

23.6.10

when you ate arithmetic

I like when you said you'd take me to dinner. And conversion tables say the twelve skipped breakfasts and three drive thru lunches almost equals a dinner. You have to use the quadratic equation and round up from the third number beyond the decimal point, but I have it all on paper. Right under the unstubbed tickets for that show you mentioned that happened last night. Ask me again why you're here. The evenings cast a certain glow and you look like my father as you're zipping all my organs inside me. But glaring sevens rip you from that place and the door shuts with my tooth tied to the knob. spilling me on the laminate.

26.4.10

too busy!

to post. due to finishing chapbooks for my advance poetry writing class
AND
PLANNING the small press that Adam, Baby Becca, and I are starting.
so excited. so busy.

7.4.10

definition poems

these are little alternative definitions for words:

lashes.
they are black painted ladders.
guardians of tears meant to bat.
made of fishing line, carrying men to bed.

beluga whale.
it is silk and salt flavors. put to be in children's choirs.
blowholes for pony mail and horse hair.
sing for me, wailing.

men.
they are, lengths of tannish.
lost until linked to oils and viscosity.
fly with hesitation and necks of rose.


6.4.10

wishlist to pass the writer's block

plagued with terrible writers block. uninspired.

I will post some new stuff today. Hopefully.

until then..


Another wish list:













1. an attractive, inexpensive, vintage or vintage-inspired sofa/couch





















2. an interesting, inexpensive, functional dresser






















3. cute summer dresses

28.2.10

punching buttons

I just hit send on an email submitting 6 poems for consideration for the university's literary journal. I am very nervous and very excited!

14.2.10

Forgot about Philip Jenks


I completely forgot to post this picture.

12.2.10

the plan and start

Adam and I have decided (loftily) that we want to self-publish a collaboration book of poetry. The way we have decided to tackle it is to pick a topic, any topic, ever, and send it to each other. We will then write our own takes on the subject and then place them on facing pages in the book. Adam has given me the first topic and I have written TWO different poems on the subject, but think I have decided which I am going to go with. I am really excited about the whole project even if it takes forever.

11.2.10

newest for class

the assignment was a memoir, but unpersonal. so no pronouns.




“when the wind rushes by where the foot was, it gets chilly”

stood in front of faces to reach up to the lips. just wanted to climb something. nothing would impress all. the red scrap metal amphibian licked teeth out of mouths. carried the previous night and a pigeon wing in pocket. offering an olive branch to the music box Viking through a series of 1001011000100. built a nest for five children’s t-shirts, grounded jaw, and eyes on back. was going to sleep in a real pile. when the pile was sound, found lost finger, but sewed it to hand. six and four is two hands. the bear held head through the morning and spelled adorable backwards. wool as tangled in exposed tibia and trailed to the door. the cursive urine read: “post script don’t want to step on wet floor.”

2.2.10

Jenks Jitters

For Class we read On the Cave You Live In by Philip Jenks and had to write an emulation. Philip Jenks came to class and did a reading and talked about his work. I actually read my emulation, which was super nerve racking. Here it is.


the pawn shop editor
chose the ceramic ponies
chipped into the black footing
are naval tattoos.

speaking Aramaic he traced
faces from tobacco stained yearbooks
balanced on skin screen
lost globes

30.1.10

found Bob Marcacci

I was really excited today after reading a poem from Bob Marcacci's series Alphabliss or Non-Nursery Rhymes to find http://www.logolalia.com/abcdefghijklmnopqrstuvwxyz/archives/cat_alphabliss_or_nonnursery_rhymes_by_bob_marcacci.html
that I can actually read the series online. Though the glare of the computer sometimes makes my eyes water (especially when I wear my glasses), just by reading the poems for the letters R and S, I am intrigued enough to go through all 26.

26.1.10

first two poems for class
























my erasure poem. took two pages from Paradise Lost and erased words to create this. emulation after reading Radi Os by Ronald Johnson.

this was a free poem for class



Insert limb here

I followed the finger tips
of genetic calloused uvula’s
penny hammered exoskeletons
who’s face has been licked in
to the only lampshade
by clairvoyant filaments

she is


eyelashes askew, a manhandled mantle carrying gelatin postcards of yesterday’s face

her clavicle tastes of recess
and milkweed
Or of christmas
the cumin in the molar cavity

but dave or donny or M
of my aunt’s hand is on
the small of my back
which is lost (reward is offered)

My back is broad.
brought.
And carries the indigenous children

Until the Dresden cells march
To the enlarged optic
And I curl into empty milk
men.

25.1.10

wish list for no particular reason

item 1

someone to make me or provide me with a bird cage to make one of these lamps

item 2

these flock pillowcases from anthropologie

item 3

this doodle sketch tapestry from urban outfitters for my bed

completion

i just made the final change on my first two assignments for the advanced poetry writing class. Adam read them both, helped edit one, and wholeheartedly approved the other one which really made me excited about turning it in.

i will post both of them on here tomorrow after I turn them in class.

finishing Radi Os by Ronald Johnson. between reading that and Hush Sessions by Kristi Maxwell, i am on a poetry high and the nice thing is there is no coming down or end in sight thanks to the variety of poetry books i will be reading for this class.

19.1.10

in session

had my first advanced poetry writing class today. am really excited/nervous/shakey about it. i can't wait to start writing more again, and hopefully produce some decent stuff. I hope to post it on here as I go along as well.

8.1.10

Riley


My dog, Riley, is sick. I am a wreck over it. His energy has dropped significantly and it makes me horribly upset. My family believes he is probably on his last leg because he is 13. I am not ready for that.

5.1.10

I am keeping busy, even if from the outside I seem to be doing nothing. Today I let it slip. Today I fell victim to idleness and now can't crawl out of the tears washing me into the floor. I am weary of the word lonely and the taste it leaves on my tongue. I just want to find the someone who is supposed to be found or just find a way out. I am tired.