I do not dare be secretive
in my art, in my words,
I want everything I say to ooze love to all,
like a pearl-less oyster onto thirsty sand.
ache ache ache with questions
"what does that metaphor mean,
and was that semicolon intentional,
and what is she still seeking answers for-
What is a God, if she is a momentary one?
Is she still a feminist,
is she a female-Christ,
is she still unhappy about the 2004 breakup?
Girl, get over yourself!
Tell us more, we still don't know you."
Give me a rainbow of beads to
string together, another story
of full-circle childhood,
equalling present frustrations-
a knot at the end.
"Oh have a baby, already,
you say your clock is ticking
you have enough children
akin to sans serif song-writing
sing for us won't you oh, songbird
an orgasmic story-ending,
friendship-ending
neighbor-alienating
scream."
Sunday, February 27, 2011
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Reach for the clouds. . .
Tickle your toes. . .
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RICK: Hey Rick? DICK: Yea, Dick? RICK: See that sky roll on by? (points) DICK: ...Oh, my... RICK: Don't i-t'almost makes yer wanner....
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there ain't no other place like you to roam. where I dug in my heels and said "No, I won't come home!" Dancing in the warb...
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hunger is sometimes preferable to loneliness. a stomach will twist- but hands become dirty and heavy when full of coins.
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Another Indian woman living on our block has hair swept back and braided has jeweled toes, is in all yellow traditional regalia, and walks w...
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In my dreams I am the fictional version of myself. The one I seek to be in my short-stories and prose. The one who gets her point across but...
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like me- it serves as a question as well as an appropriately foolish letter in bad company it only teams up with words like yodel, ...
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driving home from the farmer's market- I can't see anything- through this storm- I come home to sleep- with you-rest in your arms fu...
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Out the window, I thought I saw Emily pale, gawking. a green T-shirt. bouncing firey springs on her head.
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nipped at the ankles which is how I wander through life sometimes I must be pushed through a door finally opened after years of knock...
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Tickling toes- there was something about that barefooted madness something about that wistful waist-high wishing and wooshing in the woods, ...
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