Moved

Obviously this space is dead. I've since moved to http://sedimentary.tumblr.com. See you there!

"I Just Want to Know"

At last, I've completed my black poetry journal, the one that says, "grammar is for squares" in the front. Next I need to fill up the Kraft journal I got bored of drawing in.

The last poem:

I Just Want to Know
These unchiming bells
are the great unknown.
I think I see them everywhere,
hovering over mantles
and tumbling through bedding.
All of their eyes are bells.
I feel the shape with parting lips,
membrane over metal.
I think I know, and then
the cool curves disappear
and I am mouthing the air,
a fish, waiting.

A Chortle or Two

First off, I would like to thank whoever got to my blog by searching for "hot pants poem." I had to giggle a little bit when checking Google Analytics today.

Secondly, I'm designing a journal (think a quarterly magazine) for a class, and my journal is sustainability-focused, with this particular "issue" being about water. We have to include a poem, so I wrote one of my own. It needs a bit of critique, I believe:

[still untitled]
Every Monday through Friday
a lawn sprinkler shudders on.
A fury, it beats the grass
with a hydrogen-oxygen compound,
relentlessly, repeatedly,
and the whole yard swims and drowns,
a million tiny green heads
that couldn't fight the surface.
The whole place is a sickly swamp,
mud clumped dark and thick and useless.
Every day at six a.m.,
a lawn sprinkler shudders on in unison
with a million clicking brothers,
all raging and drowning and wasting
under a sun growing hotter and higher.

generation (another word for self)

I feel like "I" is a word
too much in my vocabulary;
I can't stop saying it
or thinking it
I am I think I know I want.
Look at how I can't stop saying it.
Okay,
"there is a certain person"
who thinks too much of herself;
her id is so large it blocks out the sun
and all the tiny people depending on it.

I love the imperfect shape of your nose.

Family

the perfumed floor cleaner
in the maternity ward smelled like
one million crapping petunias.
and that's how we named you.

Commitment Issues

The first ten minutes of a movie
are always my favorite part.
I sign petitions and call Senators
but I will not drive an hour and a half
to show up at the rally.
I bookmark interesting websites
"to look at later," but I never do.
My student account at the university
says that I am one thing,
but in my spare time
I seem to be that thing never.
I am the half-filled glass.
I am the failed quotient.
All my failures stick on me
and my victories are too afraid
to come close.