January 2012
11 posts
4 tags
Naked Eyes
She should not be standing there Waiting. The doe upon the pasture. Today he goes out hunting. The dogs are ready, and all The guns polished. Even the boots Have been scrubbed to look Like new. They set off happy, With almost youthful excitement. They will bring back many Birds today and the women Will sigh at their brave efforts, And cook will be glad Of the extra meat. The doe ...
5 tags
Dancers
The movement raced Through every vein, Alive with liquid feeling. The floorboards up and lifted Supporting pillars, and we Responded to the charge. We angled further through The music, filled with light. We moved with fluid reverence Carefree of any darkness. We strove to stand up taller, To dance lighter in the wind. We let loose, our bodies swaying Like perfect choral singers ...
4 tags
Like Stars
We were thrown, like stars, Across the heavens, sparkling Glad across the distance. Our hair ran out behind us Leaving trails of waving patterns Marking out our travels. We were Happy eating ice-cream, thinking Summer had no end, while We were licking lips and twisting Fingers. We stood up on the table And ran across the benches, Leaping from each one. We were Bound to our own...
“The other was a gentleman, much distinguished by his figure and appearance, and...”
– Fanny Burney, Camilla
6 tags
Oysters
The stars fell, the earth titled, The ocean swallowed us as it ran. We were bound together, calcified. We were oysters in our shells. Protandric, we released ourselves into the water, covered in cuts, from holding the shredded parts at the edges of our shells. Pumping colourless blood through all parts of the body, we drew water in our gills, until we fell, clattering to the ground.
hindsight/unrequited.: Green →
hindsightunrequited:
We are
15% Mark Zuckerburg
20% Politics
15% Burger King
50% Fad.
.
No room for eccentricity,
Only judgment.
.
Rebellion is juvenile entanglement.
Skirts are rolled
And lips stained red
to conceal pleura
poisoned
black.
.
(but they won’t understand
because…
A Can Attached To A String Attached To A Shell
lincolnneal:
you speak strangely. it’s ok. i type funny. your can writes maybe several ways which voices make laughs or maybe i witch strangely
attached to a shell. but we both talk funny through a string
keep me honest
3 tags
Footprints stretched forward
in an echo that rings
with blue ink. Spread
into circles that dance
at the end of the pen point.
5 tags
One mouth
@Drowned in the Inkwell
You are one mouth
wide open in wonder,
one hydrogen for satellite eyes.
The ice stings as it falls
over a perfect world.
You are waiting for a sound,
as the lamp post flickers.
You are alone;
nostrils inhaling icicles.
All thoughts have left you
to the cold. You feel it
in your palms, watching you
leave footprints in the snow.
3 tags
Every muscle aching - stretched out like a wet rag spun round to squeeze out the water. Limbs heavy with exhaustion, grumpy from dancing - throwing myself at the beat.
December 2011
5 posts
Don't make me
Don’t make me explain
one more time
why i don’t shave my legs.
Let me remind you
boys don’t do it.
Don’t tell me its unhygienic.
Don’t make me
stand here before you
self-objectifying; defending
my right to make this choice,
and the difficulty
living up to it.
It isn’t, like you say,
a decision
about which side of the fence
to sit on,
because
...
4 tags
It’s an ocean
I am swimming
for days
in my bed
lying wait
remembering
things that haven’t come yet,
bending lines
to fit this tune
with a melody
I have found yet.
Train people #1
Every inch of dirt stained jean, pockets stuff with wallet and phone. His feet look so small in Vans. Stepping on the train, his pecks poking through his shirt. Light blond hairs on his arms. His bicep against the pole, iPod in hand. Leather bracelets: woven, flat.
in-hystero:
I have eaten the plums that were in the icebox
and which you were probably saving for breakfast
Forgive me they were delicious so sweet and so cold
-William Carlos Williams
shoutfortheday:
we sat lost among blank sheets of paper and spineless books we tried to find ourselves with unwritten futures and unspoken words
November 2011
6 posts
Dailiness
rabbit-light:
It is the birds who call me back to the world Animation of sparrows among arbor vitae branches in my morning dash with the dog Brief glimpse of geese crying their ragged way across sky as I wait in traffic Waxwings busy stripping the small red crabapples beside my office building’s door Crows...
7 tags
This love whispers
Through an ocean,
Lying wait,
That hasn’t formed yet.
Through the winter
Binding fishtales
To the creatures
Telling stories
Of the fishbones
I adore yet.
Of the fishes
And their wishes
Strung together
In a chorus –
Choral net
Between my fingers
Catching...
5 tags
My clothes
fall off like water.
I will not sleep
when you are gone.
You stand dry
with sandy fingers.
I am melting
into oceans
your rubber boots
cannot pass through.
Your net catches
foreign objects
smoothed by travels
as my body
passes through.
(inspired by littlebirdsings)
ghostsandonionskins asked: Falling and rolling; I yearn for no two sensations harder. The wind and a woman, perhaps.
4 tags
We were divided
into angles.
Your uniform
and mine.
The leaves fell
slowly,
as the trains rattled
although
we did not catch them.
October 2011
4 posts
“Why did her whole being bow, like corn under the wind, and erect itself again...”
– Virginia Woolf, To The Lighthouse
6 tags
Gone Sailing - A Sign on the Door
Again. We lose sight of land
Amidst new structures,
On the hips of waves
As elbows rise and fall,
Turning egg whites in a bowl.
We are far from cities
With their bellies tucked
And bodies tight to tower
Machine-like on the skyline
Of everybody’s dreams.
No. We are lovers lost at sea,
Floating above the ocean
Filled with unknown creatures.
The rigging creaking in the wind
Telling stories of...
4 tags
Fire Fighters in Katoomba
In their yellows
Ready to fight
A fire burning.
You can smell the smoke,
The street lined with trucks
And flashing lights.
So much training
Flexed beneath their shirts,
They stand around
Not knowing where the fire is –
They’re waiting for the call
To line up in front of houses –
The fire raging up the hill,
Rising through the trees.
They hold their places
In their yellows
Trembling in the...
3 tags
sticky beak with your red nose
pointing in the wrong direction.
your footprints on my screen
i see your tiny wings.
mixed up, you ask
the wrong kinds of questions.
September 2011
1 post
3 tags
The river so dark,
the water sleeping
slow around its edges.
She asks
What time is it?
No matter.
Her eyes are wet with sleeping.
White: she revells
in her homeliness
and quietens
when she’s speaking.
She’s shy of answering
the door.
The fog rolls over
low on the water
and lying in bed
she pulls up
the covers.
August 2011
23 posts
5 tags
Wish me well a hundred times
and love me until I sleep.
But tender lies the knot
somewhere inside the pillow.
Growing dull with time
to change in size and shape.
These bodies are not inert
but interacting. We are
mindful of production
to the moment of completion.
One moves beside the other,
generating frameworks
to contain ourselves within.
2 tags
“The body is a most peculiar “thing’, for it is never quite reducible...”
– Elizabeth Grosz, Volatile Bodies, p. xi
2 tags
“Bodies are not inert; they function interactively and productively. They act and...”
– Elizabeth Grosz, Volatile Bodies, p. xi
5 tags
this panic i don’t feel
creeping up slowly
to call love its name
perhaps. the reaper
calls love a promise,
jagged on thin lips.
Passive, my hands are thinking. Placed one after the other, over your surfaces. Untenable.
3 tags
This is an edge
I can feel
my toes curling on it.
Each statement
pulls me closer
to drawing breath
on the other side
of whatever this is.
5 tags
Low tide tonight, and its raining,
but what can you do
when the world is full of water?
I roll up my pants
but don’t take off my gloves.
The fish jump beside the boat.
I slip my feet into gumboots
and drag the boat up the beach.
When I emerge from the path
I’m still wearing my head torch.
4 tags
We cannot see the ocean
or the waves within it.
Blue on blue the water
is beyond our vision.
It slides around the edges.
But sometimes I see it
on your face, rolling all alone.
6 tags
Who are we?
The woman with her blond bob across the table with her clipboard asking questions to ascertain if I am the “right” kind of person. Can I belong here? and does it matter where I come from? Can I answer in these walls - thick with history, holding the laughter of many girls
who came here to learn, and live something of themselves. Although I wonder who could really answer who...
5 tags
What are you? Who are you?
Fixed object in space - am I ?
I wonder, a thing to be considered
as round or soft, or swollen
in the river, drifting up and down
with the tide, edging along the beach
and the mudflats.
6 tags
You are my universe: the way the stars are structured. I catch glimpses of myself through colours in the air as you light up the dark of rainy weather and all that gathers there.
3 tags
Looking but not Looking
Elbows posted on the table in a way that is absolutely true. So poetic and serious in its grasp of English grammar, it emerges on a scale with the depth of living in this place. With all that training and diaspora we wonder where they were and how they came together. So extraordinary to describe his youth in beautiful novels with all that lucidity and erudition and just so sexy too. ...
4 tags
Returning...
He was alone in his house when she called saying she wanted to drop off something: a butter container and small plate. He put the kettle on wondering what she really wanted. Outside the doorbell rang and she stepped away as he moved to open it. Between familiarity and politeness she moved further out of reach; the hairs on her arms raised as she attempted a smile. He offered her to come...
2 tags
If I Were Alive Today
lookingforwisdom:
if i were alive today i would be 62 and would be teaching my poetry to speak english my poems would be mostly finished (not finnish) not greek nor jibberish they would be round like women are round and tall like men are tall they would blossom the way under-sea jungles blossom and they would be short enough to fit into a chinese fortune cookie you could read them until you were...
5 tags
When the sea flattens out...
When the sea flattens out far off the wind shakes across the water. When the sea flattens out I can see the currents moving as the boats change direction. When the sea flattens out the sound is so much clearer and the children laugh up around their knees. Voices ringing like a mirror clear on this day. Their toes dipped in the edge with their school dresses lifted. I can see my reflection when the...
3 tags
Charged, regressing
ocean whole a hole
full well and winsome
silly-empty the empty space
and verb that backwards
to a noun, beginning…
3 tags
If you to do
what I forget
together to walk
in moments
and grey the weather
to growl like thunder
common where we are
with lemons to eat for us
“… is there no outside to all this newfound social harmony? When refusal...”
– Laura Kipnis, “Adultery”, in Berlant’s Intimacy, p. 28
“Just like all you adulterers out there, tripping over your big floppy shoes...”
– Laura Kipnis, “Adultery”, in Berlant’s Intimacy, p. 16
“Contradictory desires mark the intimacy of daily life: people want to be both...”
– Lauren Berlant, Intimacy: A Special Issue, p. 5
3 tags
Holding holy to an image spitting of the mother Mary; an idol for your song. The image holds hands with the Devil singing mirrors of a shell.
3 tags
Are we technically capable?
Structures and structures - how do you build something? The building grown organically in the moment or appearing moment by moment. Realisation, realising what is happening, momentously in this moment. It is not my language I have never used that can go… in the place where it occurs, am I assuming this voice? Or hearing it hollow or full as a way of considering things.
3 tags
A Fossil Grown
Populations overgrown with moss obscuring ties to people and places; withdrawing under the hood of those eyes. In conflict with mobility, seeking refuge is an object of exclusion. Treated as an enemy in being strange; hides eyes, in shame, to avoid responsibility and isolate, much further, this self, this culture.