kayak

dungeon

Something about the corner calls to
me, beckoning with its firm angle, its
innate security, I think.
I am a restless child, a cat, who hides
away secret fears and gives way to the
walls and enjoys the proximity of
their own flesh.

The mess I've created slips and sloshes, powerful
despite my desperate grasp, but
the corner can contain it.
Here I curl and become the world,
a spinning universe gently guided.

He knows I am gone.
He knows the corner is my escape, my space
to flee to, a sturdy hold when
human embrace
is far too much to bear.
A cold, hard punishment; a soft, warm relief.
And I know, I know the corner cradles,
the corner confines, the corner
can do no wrong.
Which is a comfort when I have.

crime

not enough money
no one approves
confusion disrupts convenience
what a shame

i try to imagine
but all i see is too difficult
nothing fits
all is compromise
taking a toll

being wronged
by interests of others
pointedly
willingly
my pain is real but not right
it's a crime

bubble

soapy pockets
kids close behind
i see

hope builds
my juices flow
and pop

fizzy business
boils over to violent rage

inflated by so many pinpricks of nothings
hot, steaming air bursts loose

birch

small step
bright air
crisp light
new day
my embrace
peels away
beautiful, beautiful
somewhere else

art

what i study
what i do
what i enjoy
what i take in
and spit out
what i want to see
what i long to be

the world demands more
but all i have to give
is this my word
take it and run

america

a mixing pot of loners
always the party
how did we get here?
for better or for worse
for greater or for lesser
for richer or for poorer
for pride or for embarrassment
for me or for everyone else
forever or for now
simply home

airbus

i breathe air
i ride the (hate the) bus
skybus perhaps?
Way to rely on the establishments of others for yours to make any sense. Innovate, huh?

agreement

fear to
fear not to
trust

sketch it out
sign the dotted
line up
line out
line crossed
no more

we bicker
we war
we want
from past shatterings
today is broken
of ourselves
faith nothing

undershirt

endocentricity on our way
stacking
nothing new
nothing extreme
but ours

as always, doing all the work and never receiving the glory

taste

we see with the eyes and hear with the ears and smell with the nose and touch with the skin and taste with the tongue

but we interpret with the mind.

as with everything.

so information enters the body
via the senses
but if the mind doesn't use it
we're still considered senseless

sandwich

First only smell escapes from the damp, secluded cavern of sealed plastic technology - deli turkey. Slightly slimy and unwilling to part from its mates, a single slice is coaxed into the outside world. Already the dense brown bread sits precariously atop a paper towel in anxious anticipation. For one, the wait stretches to an immensely satisfying end as the folded turkey slice meets its carbohydrate counterpart. Still another joins them. The remaining slices, disregarded for now, are suddenly cut off from the fresh kitchen air as the thick fringe of their shroud is carefully and precisely re-zipped. Finally, the cheese appears on the scene. Lofty in its specificity, the high quality reduced fat provolone clings in overlapping rounds over the turkey, barely impeding past the strict boundaries of dark crust. Now, only one element of bare, isolated wheat product awaits the fulfillment of destiny. Having looked on to his brother's successes, he, too, yearns for the moment of crowning glory. At long last, the time has come - he is placed in perfectly symmetrical arrangement onto the previously wanting structure of sustenance. Foundation and roof, the united brothers stand strong. Even as the painful knife of medial binary division plunges down upon them, still they vow deliciousness and support.

norwegian

cohesion between
land and sea
past and present
not separate but continuous

again and again
what's changed?
i've been here before
but it's different now
haunting
like i shouldn't have wandered
shouldn't have stumbled
fallen down, down
to the forbidden
cause it's only suffering
again and again

knot

there's this point of tension
in the never-ending rope
and here's one and here's one
tied tight

i found a blue mouse in my bag today
my cat's toy
knot
i sent my mom pictures of my new haircut
searching for some response
knot
fall classes
knot
dirty laundry
knot
limited experience
knot
need tickets
knot
waiting
tired of waiting
knot
too little
knot
too much
knot knot knot
don't . . .
knot

resisting
only
cinches

i can't move

example

The paper should include a novel, coherent, and definitive thesis with relevant supporting evidence. Be assertive in your arguments. Remember to cite specific instances in the text to back up your claims.

it only takes one

that's some happiness you've got there
success, strong reputation, easy relationships
a flagrant taunt to a troubled soul
i have not the means
whereby to reach
my happiness
is separately defined

eight

convenient stories
righteous beliefs, ethical cautions
when our shared eternal wisdom
speaks otherwise

that between virginity and ecstasy
the heavens and elation
between myth and the highest order
exists that achievable infinite

deposit

give me back what i put in
and i would be rich indeed

asparagus

asparamagoosus
we used to call it
my sister and i

come dinnertime
with our secret veggie code
triumphed as superior
and definitely more fun

this bond of our own
a tradition
a trifle silly
but shared
that delicious asparamagoosus

tendency

perhaps now
always and forever
but never before
if we abandon balance
we seek it
to lean, to fall, to restore

reaching without disconnection
again and again
we tend

mint

neutralize
bastardize
utilize
compromise?
fraternize
catalyze
simple bold fresh clean

line

sail above heads
and past fears
ignoring objections
no arrival
only new directions
nothing changes
only new connections
no escape
only new dissections

follow along
let it be

history

someone else's tomorrows
marked by actions,
provoked by ideas,
transferred to the tangible
is nothing
save our remembrance

dietician

dream job
it's my dream just to have one
what? a dream job?
i want the impossible
i want it all
but mostly i want a clue
as to the person i can be
the body i can inhabit
the job i can perform
the life i can live
rather as a dream
an abstract world of thought and emotion
than any nightmare of reality

columnist

if you want to be taken seriously, why make it long and not deep?

celsius

business

area

tangled web
entrapped
chalk outlines
overlap
spatters, droplets
a single lonely reach
now out of bounds
whistles blow foul
set of words
classified
clicking in but
spilling over
trivial to tremendous
iota integrated
flow
needs more
and greater
connect across
reflecting through
match these dimensions
then follow all the way to
there

wine

wine

whine whine why
why her
why you
why would I think
why wouldn't I dream
why must I care
no

it's just there to make me miserable

vegetable

timbales

I’m so sick of you

Don’t judge a book by its cover,
As it goes

Well I don’t know what this is
So many qualities that other people see
So many things easy for you
So much goodness in your own eyes

But when your attitude
Your manner
The way you act
The way you act towards me
Is that dismal, so jeering

How can I do anything other than
Despise that outer glow
However it got there
Reaching out to me and
Starting to burn

I don’t want to go there
I’m so sick of you

legal

actor

i'm always in my head
(to my dismay)
in the words asking why
hoping to construct,
hoping to let it live.
wishing for a blip of time
in my own life
to question
analyze
reflect like this . . .
just a second to take everything in,
out of context.

but it never comes.

we harp on being "in the moment"
but offstage that's all there is.

division

too clean, too clear-cut, too straightforward.
from a day of process never product,
hours of failed attempts at definition,
a newfound eternity of unknowable enlightenment,
comes confidence in chaos;
opposites seem ridiculous,
symmetry laughable.
"confusion now hath made its masterpiece":
some conflict felt in me, begging attention
an opportunity too profound to ignore.
and god how i love it.
division?
we say good for cells, often numbers, bad for most anything else.
after all,
a nation divided against itself cannot stand,
but i say
a person divided against herself
just expanded the possibilities.

cell

a cell contains me

burma

habits
for others provide structure
comfort in routine
but i cringe to think

years of knowing
instilling - reinforcing - addiction - conviction - repetition - one condition
until finally
admission:
what was really known?

some refuse
stubborn in dependence
but higher i strive
because it takes a break
to escape

body

body is
an endpoint, a vessel
everything cooped up
the only citizen of reality
cross-sections of the infinite
naked offering to the world
I hate the way it limits,
but I love the way it lives.

appliance

today the talk is
what good is it - this knowledge?
what can we make it do?
investigation for pure information
is all but dead;
the shortage of money
is no longer drawn
discovery science barely
hangs
on.
It all must be Applied.
knowledge itself is worthless
unless Machine go with it
and you will use it daily
constantly, specifically
easier on your poor living self
connecting the dots
directly
simply
and always, always,
Usefully.

weather

i danced today
hands supporting
body twisting, reaching, rolling, bounding
sometimes, admittedly, thumping
but always easy and playful
peaceful
and that's how i can handle it
the world
those thoughts, worries
negative energy
the stress of exercise
all of it brings me down
but why not let my being
tell me what it needs
instead of half-hearted forcing
with mind and body at odds
when i can do it
this way
i can weather it
this way
cause now the sun shines through
and i can see clearly, more of this to come

target

the mantra turning over in my brain
"fuck you, bitch! fuck you, bitch!"
making my blood roil
and the intensity builds

my eyes go from theirs
to the point of attack
action will follow this line

and deep in my core
it generates and erupts

bull's eye

the fragment of air is unsettled
but my partner is safe

the aim was true
it was the target, slightly removed
a little bit off of reality

where i want to be
with my energy shooting past
to a place beyond
the original one i envisioned

shorts

i want to walk barefoot
over cold stone and warm grass
making way for living things
and moving in my own direction
towards where i want to go



black on white
text on a page
plain jane reads, not draws.
the image may grab you
a photo, a painting,
striking shades of reality
but the words, subtle and common
yet beautifully crafted
will keep you



shorts are forbidden with a mindset like mine
that with makeup, tank tops, a summer dress
anything hinting i thought i was pretty

cause i didn't

didn't want to try to be something
i was convinced i was not
rather be aware, considerate, and
in fact, slightly odd
than a fool - a misguided fool
when the only foolish thing was resisting
not embracing, accepting
and seeking to share

as you might see, my mindset has changed

shake

gimme a shimmy
a lighthearted shake
feel the blood pulsing
the body enliven
and wake

or trembling
jittered
to face that unknown
it's terrifying, energizing
(but more so to miss out)
so giddy with excitement
let me approach and partake
conquer
whatever has reached, unasked
and struck that chord within

but when everything's in place
nothing special
all my ducks in row
the dishes washed the cat fed the car running meals prepared and packed away
good mornings uttered and the time is right
I've checked in with myself for business, eager for the next
when I can finally look out
at all those things precious, or necessary
without the usual tinge of worry
but in sincerity and awe
admit it - "This is good"

please

I don't want to be shaken

persian

a gulf
negative space
a style
a culture, a period, an association - a mindset
an export
the image, though I have never seen one really
an animal
labeled and assumed
a language - alive, as they say
spoken and written even now
but a people? a nation? a chunk of earth?
only ideas, intangible remnants, negative space
defined by the adjective
and forever set adrift from the noun

harp

[That's funny, because I immediately thought of the verb too.

When I sat down to work on this one, I kept thinking of connections - to the other words of the day, to my own silly perceptions, etc. I shied away at first, thinking that the point was to explore this singular word within art as an almost isolated case, without tainting it with the pettiness of shallow comparison (it starts with H, oh, another stringed instrument, all of these are nouns but lots double as verbs too). I thought this all to be cluttering and not very helpful or artistic. But I realized that I understand through connections and I create through understanding (or at least with the goal of understanding), so exploring connections, no matter how simple, isn't cheating, but deepening.
But enough talk of methodology.]


I wanted a picture
an image to share
but "thou hast harped my fear aright"
and I must write instead,
my limitations plague me

she's a vision
broken, beautiful, pathetic
a stone angel, gray and marbled
stained by the years
tainted both by weather and by human hand
her smooth complexion scarred
chipped away gradually by the harshness of nature
the elements descending viciously on man's construction.
she gazes softly, sadly
through cold, dead eyes
deprived of her music long ago by bitter vandals
bent on torturing this ideal reflection of
GOD ON EARTH
and stealing a gleam of her otherwise perfect goodness.
but most notable is not the arbitrary wounds of a place in the sun
the standard wear and tear of age
but the careful line of nicks
no doubt done purposefully
inflicted repeatedly
again
and again
and again
and again
sequentially down her robe to her leg
impeccable little marks
slowly tearing her apart.
even made of stone
and especially made of flesh
we are not made to bear the scraping
suffer the hacking
endure the slow pain of a widening crack
tiny dints of attack
they grow
and we too will crumble and fall.

hardcover

Soft, chewy center
(But not creamy, I hate that word)
And if you push hard enough
It cracks, the insides squish.

This is the place of entrapment, the surroundings. Now you know.

Here, nothing is shared
Between the shell and the filling
Nothing ever felt nor communicated;
They cannot operate in sync.

These problems are deeper than you foresaw.

A glance at the glamour of the outside space
And the surface begins the struggle:
Reaching to touch, finding expansion necessary
But now disconnection prohibits any push - it is stuck.

It's tough, you can tell, but something's missing. It can't be done this way.

Losing air, losing patience
The stuffing wants it so badly
Pressing desperately,
And the only place to go is out.

You're observing a battle for expression, attention. Sooner or later, something must give.

Gushing through comes the softness
Free, for all the world to see
At the unfortunate expense of a distant, encasing partner.
And the judgment comes from the others: vulnerable, sticky, fluffy - unworthy nonsense, all.

But you have seen its surging victory of escape.
The strong are not spread, but condensed. And oblivion is not to be tolerated.

hallway

I've been out-of-town with family this weekend - here are my make-ups:


























infinite doors and windows
and somewhere the gleam of light

cheek

aunt

diagonal relation,
straightforward veneration

viola

curves that cradle
sound of hollow
startling reverberation sweeping through
an enraptured man must
scale the twists and
turns to ride the surging
waves finally a hand bent but
unable to grasp the growing bulge of
delicate life fits
snugly held up from
underneath the strings the linear is
broken into round
beautiful curves that cradle

verse

Encapsulates expression in the art
Of poetry, the old stuff, where it counts

That your words have a certain rhythm
Respected
That you've mastered the language
Enough

To play with structure and still give it weight,
With meaning flowing freely in each line
To shape a message found within the beat,
And sentences appear: a different form.

But breakout-
easier like this? pushing
harder wanting
differently saying
more
this way?
blow-by-blow
hurling words

Instead of fitting them so perfectly.
If one way's better, then I know it not.

pastor

don't tempt me . . .

well,
i've known a few.
wonderful people, all
would be disappointed in me now.

+ Alabama landscaping services

hell

show

keyboard

height

gauge

God
another imposition/measurement/feeding my left brain
Undulating objective/subjectively (sitting quietly for interpretation)
gazing
Ever so hopefully

flesh

what nature puts on the outside
but we hide away
--------------------> in disgrace?
--------------------> but who are we to say?
needs to breathe
needs to be touched
sensitive
just like the rest of me

catching up

Some of June's words that I missed but want to explore:
flesh
gauge
height
keyboard
show
hell

mailman

Flag up
Oh, it's been a while since I could walk barefoot down the driveway
retrieval without a key
Invisible, but not silent
Open air
Stop-and-go
Utility bills + magazines
appear:
Government work.

Now letters fly
Freely
With no life to guide their path, no hard form to
give them substance
Only what the words speak
inside a virtual box
With no middle man
to deliver