April 2012
21 posts
what my name bacame (21/30)
Sean turned my name into knuckles
I hit him so hard that day in the field I became punch-through-fire-proof
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Vince curled my name into a slimy tongue
I could no longer tell whole truths with
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John made my name feel like quiet dirt
the way he buried me beneath the woods despite my persistence,
the way my mother asked where I’d been, my name falling like rocks,
I told the most elaborate lie I’ve...
a letter for my little sister soon to be 13 years...
When I was 13 years old
I mathed when I expected your mom and dad would let me take you shopping alone
I figured by then I would be 29
because your parents, being who they are, probably wouldn’t let you out of their sight
until you had your ticket to freedom
you would have just received your driver’s license
your hair would be forever and dusty gold
your eyes would still be blue
despite half...
1 tag
an abreviated list of what's in my closet (19/30)
Ticket stubs to every concert and movie I’ve been to
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My old rugby ball
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My original and only existing birth certificate
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Picture of Greg in his “I Dig Molly” (Molybdenum) mining shirt
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Michael’s broken guitar pick
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Yellow Card’s violinist’s broken bow
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Two pedals from the rose Eric Kunse brought me
after I gave him my virginity
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A bible with my name gold foiled on the cover
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All...
1 tag
her tongue iches, but she is satisfied never...
My mom has a question for every thing
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Of her husband she asks:
Why do you think it is the flower blooms that way?
Why do you think it is this road is taking so long to pave?
Why do you think it is the garage opens halfway sometimes?
Why do you think it is?
...
1 tag
haiku : pink eye (17/30)
so I am decidedly bad at Haiku, apparently, but in the spirit of 30/30 and transparency… here goes not hiding things even when I’m embarrassed of them… I was just trying to break away from routine and stretch a little to not be so monotonous in style…
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you don’t realize
how much shit is in the world
till you get pink eye
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which is to say till
womanhood is a...
1 tag
clementine (16/30)
I was born resilient
spilling myself into thorny rose bushes
Chased my brother through crooked sidewalks
barreled down uneven roads on a skateboard I didn’t know how to ride
and never looked back at the skin I left in the pavement
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By the time I graduated high school I was shocked to find myself catatonic with freedom
my instinct was to become terrified;
osteoporosis of the daring bone.
I sunk...
1 tag
untitled for now (15/30)
Inside my head lives an attic
the attic is a collection of things one may never remember owning
there is a cedar trunk, like in every attic
inside the trunk is a blue dress
inside the blue dress is my grandmother’s spine
inside my grandmother’s spine is a ladder
the ladder is a secret
the secret is a climbing tree in the woods in Ohio
the woods are twisting with creeks
the creeks all lead...
1 tag
thanks, i guess (13/30)
{I sat down to write a poem… and was, like, “fuck it.”}
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I was waiting for the bus
watching thirsty bugs climb toward the rain.
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Worms writhed and reached their bodies out of the wet dirt.
The whole ground pulsed.
Clumps of mudding earth rolled as worms pushed through.
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I was entranced and repulsed, but
I just stood there, silent and still, staring down
waiting for the bus.
...
1 tag
what the water gave me (or the water gifted me...
The first thing I remember
is my toddler body buoyed in the Great Salt Lake
standing there alone in the tide
Mom, Dad and Eric were on the beach
Water moved back and forth kissing my hips
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I remember most the illusion
of being carried backward,
like a gentle cradle comforting me away,
watching myself drift from land and
my family.
I took a few steps toward them, but I felt the pull take me
so I...
1 tag
no, not me, never (12/30)
said Voice, the Zipper Maker.
I ask for a different job than hiding things.
I confuse the sounds of hello and good-bye.
I am almost always sorry for both.
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said Teeth, the Violin String Maker.
I ask for a song that does not make people sad.
I chatter on through your bow-tongue telling...
1 tag
forgiveness (11/30)
I can’t appreciate gravity
I can’t hug the ground and feel grateful
I can’t wake up
I can’t sleep
I can’t return a phone call
I can’t eat
I can’t be okay
I can’t be okay
I can’t be okay
I can’t be okay
I can’t be mad at myself for these things
I am just so tired
I am just so tired
a white flag at half mast is a tongue of curses...
{As always, I would love notes on this. I feel like it makes sense to me, but I worry it lacks the context that gives it meaning to anyone else. I guess I just can’t tell if it stands alone or not.}
After Rachel McKibbens’ Writing Exercise #58 (http://rachelmckibbens.blogspot.com/2012/04/58.html)
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I am an endless fall of branches waiting for a Spring that has never promised itself...
happenstance at the laundry mat wherein i...
Was coming up short on subject matter. I did one of Rachel McKibben’s prompts (http://rachelmckibbens.blogspot.com prompt #60). This might mean everything or nothing…
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When my dead uncle coughed and threaded out of the lint catcher and I asked him if his understanding of mathematics and unbearable sense of physics perpetuated his terror of the world and if that is why he had to...
it takes a wrecking ball to break into my house...
What I never say when I need to say it OR why I am always sorry:
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I understand silence more than I understand how to explain anything about myself
My heart is a many headed beast that eats its young;
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a fickle monster terrified of its own speak
I will never know how to tell you how to love me
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I will never know how to show you I love you
I will apologize
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too late
for everything
.
It will...
i am a forest of ghosts (pt. 3) [7/30]
When the dog jumped the fence still attached to the tether
she hung for hours before my mom came home to save her
When I rode my brother’s bike into the rose bushes determined to be like him
When I loved the tire swing
When I loved being a naked child
When we had a plastic blue kiddie pool
When I wanted to wear swim trunks instead of bathing suits
When mom stopped putting barrettes...
Float On Blog: i am a forest of ghosts (pt. 2)...
{I would love some notes on this. 7.5}
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Oh my dad?
He’s the best dad
I can see over the house when he pushes me on the tire swing
he lets us push him in the kiddie pool backwards
he lets us ride on his motorcycle
he does handstands on everything
his muscles are as big as my whole body
my daddy’s the strongest man
he doesn’t even yell when he’s mad
he’s hardly ever even mad
he...
twisted at the end of a rope with thirteen perfect...
{ugh.}
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That last night
in the alley
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I could not sleep
Autumn’s breath was a stinging rash
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against the peach of my skin
turning me into a scaled beast
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I broke my teeth on the density of midnight
howling at the wind
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to be louder than a nothingness
that wouldn’t even show itself
ouroboros (4/30)
{I love this. 8.5}
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There is the matter of blame;
the way it is weightless until you name it
the way its name becomes a brick
the way glass shimmers like a river when it breaks
the way you hover over the shards wondering how to forgive it
back together before it drifts into the ocean and
washes away with the tide
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There is the matter of blame;
the way it has a throat that
is not your throat,...
when she invites you to her hotel room for a glass...
{I rate this poem a 7 i think. While it might be less original, I enjoyed writing it.}
when she invites you to her hotel room for a glass of wine
it is 4 o’clock in the morning
you are sober
Never mind you are meeting your mom for breakfast and a ride to the airport in 4 hours
She makes you nervous to feel the most honest want you’ve felt in months
Never mind sleep
Never mind the sun; the...
when death does not call and you are greedy for...
{I rate this a 5. Not sure it’s full, yet.}
Death is hungry and knows your face in a crowded room
but he doesn’t call your name
you think he is cruel in that way
he doesn’t approach you with clever lines about dance cards
or heaven losing its angels
You think everyone’s gowns are flowing tonight
and every night
you think you might be under-dressed
You think it is because you are...
i'm taking my table and going home (1/30)
I’m totally going to rate my 30/30’s on a scale of 1-10 based on my satisfaction with the all around experience of writing them… this is a 4.
What I shouldn’t say (but still happened):
When I pulled up to your apartment to take the last of my belongings before moving 1,300 miles away from the thought of you, you were in bed with your new girlfriend. You apologized and told me...
March 2012
3 posts
i am a forest of ghosts (pt. 1)
We used to believe the alley behind our house was haunted. I imaged that meant ghouls would slowly rise from beneath it, gravel falling off their shoulders as they grabbed for our feet and arms. I believed that more than I believed any unprovable thing. My brother, my cousin and I would stare down the gray gravel waiting. Sarah, the slow girl across the alley, used to cross it so easily. She...
and behind her the music escalated. and she...
So the point of this program is to be poeming, so I’m going to just stick to that unless I have some update that seems relevant…. Most of what I write will most likely just be free writes. Edits Will come later on. So this is basically a poem a day deal. Let the challenge begin!!
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She has this thing. This firing sequence of yeses and no’s...
when your body is empty of air and still lighter...
This is entry #1 in the writer’s program I have signed onto with Float On SE Portland. I have committed to write an entry everyday through out the program that will last at least 6 weeks. It is a wonderful happenstance that this program runs through the month of April… National Poetry Writing Month. Serendipity? I hope so :)
The idea of “floating” made its way into my awareness...
