truth be told
i miss this all

SE/24

What it is is a foundation, a found nation of cultures
M-planted it is prime time for a glass
bowl cup plate M-p(i)ty to have to be like this
woman who is not (enough) but has to be
present enough to have her here
unfolded folds to enfold will busy
the foundation of others
a body that cataclysmically rocks this body
destroyed inside out side the chair and wait
liquid laugher keeps off the weight
making a wait sometimes but the choices are slim to(o)
find where: tips top tips
recombinant permutation tester forms stop tips tip
posits pipit spit tots toss spot post piss pit’s toits
all the while growing tips to top as peaks are defining
and definite de-finite top of de-occurrence
comes from the path of least resistance
in this instance the path ends at H
owever an ending is and ending H
opes is more than enough – tHere too
ends after some start, not P
athetic attempt at deduction from reduction to an alphabet
full of starts and H ends the path that had some beginning
dollops to daisy out the source
here is the source/error message barer of malfunction
here is the source in these dollops is the source
here now comes the laughter

Tonight, I plan to dream

Tonight, I plan to dream about having enough
taco shells, I will have just enough fillings to fill
five tacos.
After four, I'm guilty at best. It's salad in new
world casings, I will tell myself.

The day I stopped hand-crafting things for my mother

"Does anyone have a scrap piece of paper?"
I want to yell at my mother to use the
Mother's Day notepad I made for her in class.
It's several pieces of assorted colored paper,
hole punched,
tied at the top with yarn.
the back has magnets
for the fridge. It's helpful and pretty.
"Happy Mother's Day!"
It's too pretty to use.
Too pretty to be put on the fridge
"cause, when I'm fryin' bacon, it splatters
and it might mess up your notepad."
No, it's your notepad now.

Thoughts on a Dead Squirrel

"These are the squirrels
cute furry and brown
These are the squirrels
that climb the trees down,"
was the first poem I ever wrote
and it was regurgitated to me
by my second grade teacher

What rhymes with brown?

Down.

Well there you go! Great job.
Now go back to your desk.

Squirrels
and rhyming poetry
have always bothered me.

And it breaks her heart.

why do I assume it’s a man? a woman sticks her head in the oven. gives her brains back to the buttons & knobs that hurt her. some people on the train saw the car wheels scatter from its frame like the car filled with air & blew the tires into the swamp. it was like hitting a mosquito. but heard the conductor over the loudspeaker remain outside Crystal Springs for some time. some time. some time. when before, thirty minutes before, a man sat in his car on the trains with his foot on the go. & our time was coming in the train & his time was sitting in the car. & our time was coming in the train & his time was sitting in the car. his focus on the shiny parts. the shiny parts were shiny because he ran his palm across the wheel too much. he ran his palm across the wheel. he ran his palm across the wheel again like every morning. he couldn’t make any morning now. now he would. no agency. but to sit. i will sit here & let time act on me. let the time act on me. & our time was coming in the train. 

when this body speaks,
   her lips will spread wide,
   slit by a knife and shaped
   like her vagina and mine
   and they might snicker and shape
   words that hurt and
   linger radioactively.

when this body speaks,
   his ego will speak
   because his lips cannot
   his cock will want to save me. 
   his cock will want to fear me.
   his muscles will dance
   engage fists and feet
   to tell his theory of the world
   without saying anything

when this body speaks,
   I will forge friendships through talking.
   I will identify with what you emit
   no matter what we’re saying
   while we wait
   for this language to form

when this body speaks,
   you may join in.
   I will speak with my body
   (this queer body, these queer lips)
   and you will speak with your body
   and those words will trans(form)/(scend)
   this language so far
   that we’ll never have to talk
   about it again.

Crushed, is how I feel as I pick a hardened contact lens up from the bathroom counter. No matter how much I rub fake tears along its surface, it won’t relax from its state of rigor mortis. I grumble as I slip on a t-shirt and feel like this represents something larger in the grander sense of things.

The anxiety I feel as I pick lint off of a black t-shirt is so tangible, it makes me uncomfortable. White specks float in a sea of pure untouched black. From where did they all come? Wouldn’t you attach yourself to something larger than yourself if you knew it would take you to better places with better people with more expensive conversation?

The new contact lens cooperates but the disappointment is still fresh. I feel like there might be a black world out there with a high and mighty deity in charge of all of this, controlling what’s new and what’s old, telling me where to get off and what to stick in my eye. I feel like I might be that white speck that’s getting too big for its britches, clinging to something larger and grander than it’s accustom to.

On Being Married

“Diana Ross wasn’t even that great of a singer,” I say aloud. I know that my husband isn’t really listening to me. He nods and goes: “Hm-mh.”
“She’s kinda cute, I suppose. I guess she’s got some kind of allure about her, but that voice is really whiny and. . . pretentious.” I don’t get an answer at all for that.
I’m wondering if I’ve stepped on my husband’s toes by bad-mouthing Diana Ross. Should I maybe tone it down a little?
“How does one just step out on their own like that?”
“Ego?” he suggests.
I nod. “Yeah maybe.”

Fear not Danielle!

My dear child,

please do not fret
We will write poems

peace be with you.

I rescued an earthworm today and felt proud
After a good rain it escaped near drowning
and was shipwrecked on pavement.
Its friend was stepped on.

sex positions to remember

"Under arrest"-- can get frisked
On the stairs sex-- quickie
"You're under suspicion of being sexual. . .
I will take you in."
You take me in, I meant.
Let's start over.
"You people are responsible for the rise in. . .
my junk."
That's like cock, because cocks rise and I wanted
to couple that with crime. Also, I wanted to
make an off color joke on color.
Grope.

She wore a dress shirt
an afro and listened
to the squelch of water
beneath her sneaks.
These are simpler times.

I recognized the look
Young woman
seconds left
no options
It happens
we could tell because
she stoped short
as if the wind jerked
her backwards
Her hands
flutter upward and the air
is let out
Steps are less urgent
I hang my head
with her

fact

D
A
N
I
E
L
L
E

I
S

T
H
E

O
N
L
Y

POET

it feels so personal, so intimate

the bowl of heads
with holes for eyes
and the occasional white marble reflectors
is collectively devoid of expression,
faces forward in the act of watching,
and waits

the cup of heads
in black two ways
but for bulb flood
is anxious to end
faces, mixed gazes, watching
and waits

Reflections on this Floral Print

Two (many) nights spent right side empty
but for these shorts that are
too big and too short (but barely both)
and look better on you.
Better still on the floor under heaps
allowing us to play eye-spy and look for pieces
like Easter eggs while wearing only our
Sunday (Birthday) best.

Remember: fleshy hip to bone fingers
when I first peeled these off like skin
placing my body prone to yours
atop yours
and we crossed our bones into 602 X's
feeling like 301 women glorified at once.

Commonalities

Somewhere a man and a woman will be on a blind date. She will be lactating and he will fantasize about ripping her shirt off and drinking from her breast over a salad he never wanted. She will fantasize about the possibility of him sucking her breasts which will be a new feeling for her but one that will cause reactions down there. They won’t talk about it. They will talk about inconsequential things. Nothing will happen. They will go back to their respective homes after an average date but never see or hear about each other again. He’ll think of her once when his future wife eventually gives him a baby. She might think she saw him once at a post office.

Images*

Dog.

DOG I said.

* I want the word D-O-G to make you think of a scraggly brown mutt, dirty, maybe wet, with a wagging little tail and skinny legs. I want you to think of a mutt because they are lovable. The red collar kind, with a little of that crust around the eyes. Eyes that might be different colors. That is fine. I want you to envision grass and trees and a bone to chew. Maybe a squeaky alien toy with bulging eyes. A small bear with slobber-matted fur and stuffing leaking dangerously from the rear and a missing eye – no a missing snout. I want that grass and tree to belong to you, you know, backyard style. I want you to feel good about it, like you’ve known it all your life. That’s a childhood dog. That’s a wagon chasing, feel-good mutt. Squeezable. The kind that will lick you but not in the face, never in the face, unless you like being licked in the face - and if you do then it will and you can also share ice cream cones. Long run on the beach dog. Tooth holes in the beach ball dog. Howl with the guitar kind of dog. Scared of the cat dog. I want you to think of a well-trained pup, the kinds that get to be on sitcoms and conveniently cover their eyes with their paws when situations get sticky. The kind that knows how to fetch but probably won’t. The kind that plays dead when you point the finger-gun at it and shoot. The smiling fun dog. I want the word D-O-G to be a really vivid, really powerful word for you. I want you to feel really satisfied.

Dear Oprah Show Fan,

We thank you for showing an interest in meeting Miss Winfrey. She is very flattered and appreciates your unceasing enthusiasm. But due to the high volumn of fan mail, it's is not possible at this time to arrange a personal meeting with Miss Winfrey.

Miss Winfrey supports the dreams and aspirations of forward thinking young women and wishes you luck with all of your future endeavors.

Please sign up for free tickets on www.oprah.com


Oprah Show Staff

sparse hair flubby belly despite the ambiguous genitalia clitoris

he could could fuck me

Dear Oprah,
I didn’t get a response from you for my fierce birthday spectacular sponsored by Seventeen magazine, Elite Model Management, and COVERGIRL so I figured it must’ve been lost in the mail right grlfriend ‘cuz I know you wouldn’t be treatin’ me like that afta all we been thru. Aw, that’s just my ghetto side coming out; you know how it goes. Remember that time when we went to Detroit together and I saved you from that bullet and then you pulled off your earrings and your shoes and got ready to slap a bitch but I held you back because that’s what friends do? yeah, our ghetto sides came out then but you gotta know how to turn it off when you’re modeling…or hosting talk shows like us. We do that. We’re like, the same. We’re fierce.
Speaking of talk shows, don’t you love that ours are back to back? It’s because we’re besties I’m sure. You know, we share fans. It’s like two hours straight with sisters. Sistas. We can’t forget that we’re pioneering our industry as black women. If your network is working you too hard, there’s a spot at CW for you. You know you’re always welcome on my couch or you could have me back on yours whenever you want. Remember when you had me on a few months ago and I talked about my abusive boyfriend? Yeah, I shared that secret with you because I know what good friends we are. I trust you a lot. It feels like it’s been forever since we got to hang out. O, dear, where have you been? Probably busy I guess.
I’m busy too, you know. We both have our shows of course, and we both produce movies, and I do what I can to help out the community you know. We talk about the real issues. I’m sure you watch so you know. Remember when I did the spot on sexting and teens? And when I scared those women into living better lives by showing them ugly pictures of their future selves? Dr. Phil wouldn’t even dare go there. Oh! And remember last Christmas when I stole your idea for a show where I give presents to people for the whole hour? That went well I think. Some were embarrassed that I made them wear the unemployed t-shirts but I mean, at least everyone knew that they deserved it. And I even made one of my top models dress up like you and pose. You’re so photogenic! We’re practically the same. Really. I just want to be you, I mean, be close to you. We just have so much in common that it’d be a waste not to get together sometime and look and my old headshots or something. I can show you how to keep those pounds off.
I just want you to consider this your personal invite. I’ve delivered it right to your address to make sure you got it this time. I’m sure there was just some kind of misunderstanding, you’d never ignore me Oprah, I know. I love you, too. I really do. Maybe you want to meet for lunch or coffee or something before the party sometime? We can share tips on gaining power through media. I can help you with your walk. Honey, you’ll be fierce! 

Sistas 4 Lyfe
Tyra

P.S. Go ahead and bring Stedman if you want or even Gail if you prefer (and oh girl, I know you’d prefer ;).  I love her too.  She can be the third leg on the catwalk of friendship. )

P.P.S. I know we didn't get to actually go on that Detroit trip, but I had set it up with some old friends to have it go down like that.  I could've saved your life.  I don't know why you backed out at the last minute.  

its been super fun ladies i'm just so sad that the month is ending that i wouldn't know what to write.  ...so i won't.  

it would probably be pretty cool if this was a yearly type of event.  

i would like that.

whose idea was this?  it was a great idea.  i, too, thank mel for such a cute space to share ideas.  

it's been real,

i guess i'll go back to my own blog now. 

-Fox

Is this the end of the blog? Was the plan for just a month?
If so, this will be my last entry, and then i'm headed back to my page.
But from there, I'm still checking up on your guys and your blogs.
So keep writing. Thanks again to Mel for setting up such a cute page.


Its not unsual to spell one's name wrong.
Perhaps it's on purpose.
Struck from the record with one ragged
scribble is something we sometimes are.
Making one's self disappear comes next,
you could imagine.
The many places we could go. . .
Maybe, if you
listen closely
you can hear
the misspellings
of a gone man
Hear him?
He's there. And then with a swipe of a pen,
he's not.
How easy it must be and therefore not unusual
at all. To spell one's name
gone.

Chari---

mountain as a euphemism for man

i have climbed that mountain

and castrated it in my dust

i have stripped it cold

held its pride

in bear-trap hands snapped

and spit on the remains

i have cupped it

hushed it

sang it the lullabies of children

after i had blown sand in its eyes

and made it cry

i have cursed it wildly

with bohemian lips

while i finished the un-

timely emasculation 

and no mountain has ever looked

the same

A Hole

there's a hole in

the wall

by that i mean

there's a hole in THE

wall

by that i mean

pull your fucking skirt

   down

 

(or don't) 

        (but please do)

"Whatever!" she shouted, because she had nothing better to say.
Her friend told her that women didn't know what they wanted, in
response to 'boys are stupid!'

She shouted. Which was unlike her. She rarely raised her voice for
any reason. And rarely did she reply with silly ejaculations like,
"Whatever!"

She felt dejected and confused.

Lacking the Wisdom of Teeth

tick

                                                                       tick

                   tick

                                                         tick

                                                                                       tick

    tick

                                                     tick

                                              tick

                                                                                                                                tick

                      tick

  tick

boom

tonight something in my brain has 

completely exploded

completely

must it be the drugs

d(p)r(r)ug(e)s

m(s)ake  m(c)e  f(r)eel  l(i)ik(p)e

re(t)g(i)u(o)la(n)r

?? 

I 

n

 e

  v

    e

      r take drugs

but these are good

they must be. 

for example--

look at what i bought today!

(shopping as a form

of releasing the creative

from the barrel of the

subconscious)

those shoes! 

            drugs

those paintings!

            d r  u  g  s 

those underwear!

            D R U G S

i thank you!

too much

               a. i have spent

               b. i am spent

avocado is code

for weed

i think

A raindrop hit me right in the eye. . .

No Condition

I went in with a toothache...

and left without teeth

da hole wite side 

of ma mouf 

numb

for owwahs

and just when the new pain

was dulling

i thought to have some dessert

because ice cream is soft

and soft's all i'm allowed.

i saw the first on the stove top

dead center

live roach

the second by the sink

(what type?)

the third fell to my scream

from the cabinet

that holds our glass-

and dinnerware

and i reeled back

(lost the bugger no less) 

when my stitches were ripped 

out of my mouth

and i felt violet daggers 

of pain

(more intense than red

or yellow or white

is purple)

i really should spray

those cabinets

but damn it

i'm in no condition

(there are still stitches

but i'm in no condition)

Not to take away from Charish's plight...that is definitely more important...

My eye has looked like this or worse all day.  It is unpleasant.  In addition I probably have a new cavity or four...and a pimple.

This is SERIOUS. . .

I'm not writing poetry today, i'm taking a break to have a panic attack melt down. Dani can write for the both of us, i see that she already has. I need to tell you guys something kind of serious. For those of you didn't know (Jenna and Mel) I had planned to finish summer school, (in a couple of weeks) do my last semester, and then graduate. After that, I got the opportunity to travel to Thailand to teach English, by way of Professor Strickland and his connections. I was pretty damned psyched about that, right?

My mother blows that out of the water this morning by telling me that i might not do any of that stuff because it's possible that my dad will get a promotion within the company (Wal-Mart). That means that we'd go to the home office (Arkansas) as early as August. I started freaking out and I really don't know what to do at this point. I wanted to graduation in Dec, like you don't even know and now, i would have to go to U of A and graduate there. I don't know what kind of graduation requirements they have. For all i know, I could have a year left there.

My mom said if i could find a way to finish out here, I could try it. So I really want to look at that option. I actually need to find a place to live until December, until i go to Thailand or something. If you guys can think of anyone, that would be extremely helpful. I'm going to think about possible professors I could stay with or someone from the library. I'm trying to think critically under pressure and it's a lot to deal with. I'd really appreciate if you guys gave me some feed back. I'm sure you will. I will be talking about this in therapy today. (I'll talk about that later) :)

Charish.

The Black Man who Comes at 5h30 to Drink with his Buddies then play Racquetball

"Visionary" he called 

me while we

both fantasized

about putting alarm-

clock shaped holes 

in our walls.

I missed the connection

He drank coffee,

or vodka,

from his mug

La douche

Aujourd'hui 

je suis descendue au catacombes 

où c'était noir au milieu d'après-midi et 

il faisait chaud et mouillé.  

Où les bêtes habitent, 

où on est aveugle 

aux chutes grandes, 

aux petites 

choses noires qui 

filent à tout allure.

Je suis descendue au catacombes

sans personne

avec rien

sauf le corps

et l'instinct

et je me laissait 

me perdre

sans peur.

Mon dieu, ce que

j'ai vu! 

Le dragon féroce 

(sans l'abilité de respirer le feu) 

qui battait le cafard.  

Le prince haut pendant qu'il 

flottait sous des ballons.  

Le tigre avec le thé, 

le bateau des pirates 

(sans les pirates) 

sans son tresor, 

les dinsaures mortes et 

Jésus Christ peut-être!

Mais surtout le vagin!  

Ce qui est élevé, 

plus puissant, 

plus tout-savant que les autres.  

Le vagin qui épargne le monde. 

Le vagin qui gouverne le monde.  

Le vagin de la vie!  

Si beau!  Si sage!  

Pas le mien, 

pas le vôtre.  

Le vagin de Dieu! 

Tout cela dans l'écriture 

des cheveux sur les murs de la douche. 

For T

It is people like you

    [womanizing man-whores]

That make people like me

    [women]

Hate

    [men]

It is people like you

    [TCP]

That make people like me

    [DNF]

Glad for

    [STDs]

Quad

A ring of dead grass around a tree
one flag twirler who can't keep up
Twelve squirrels taking secret shits under secret rocks
Ants are crawling all over the goddamn place
All the while. . .
a spiders silk sticks to my face
not the horseflies that pester me.

I Want to Try My Hand

at being poor. I've got four dollars right now, how far can I stretch it? I got no kids, no bills, but I'm hungry and I'm bored: A dangerous financial position to be in.

at being crazy. I'm poor, I might as well be nuts. I might as well have no responsibilities and no worries. I like fried mustard, would you like a cup?

at being criminal. I'm crazy, I might as well be a criminal. I've got no serotonin or scruples, no money, and I'm hungry. I can burglarize a church, behead the clergy, and take the tithes.

at being institutionalized. I'm criminal, I might as well go the extra mile and get locked up. Three hots and a cot. I can make friends with Big Mama June, she's looking for a protege.

Exactness

Bugs have been squished.

          I won't tell exactly where

   (Willow St. (the kitchen, the bath(room

      )))

          I won't tell exactly what brand

   (Brand-name bugs imagine! (I mean (of course) 

     the types (I do not know (and don't care to

 )))

          I won't tell exactly how many

   (A lot (too many (too high to count

         )))

All I can say

                      exactly

is that bugs have been squished

      and 

  things are in motion...

I  am  inside  while  the sun 

broils  the  sidewalk  to  an 

astonishing 300 degrees C,

hot enough to extinctualize

some lost dinosaurs, but not

too hot for humans because

we are genetically superior.

In the future, us and genetics

will be a thing of the past, but

till then let us thank the God

in heaven (scenically located

3 miles behind the brick wall

at  the  edge  of  our  known 

universe - if you've hit the 

museum of lost space shit 

you've gone too far) that we

've been created in such a heat-

resistant image.

I recall that strange saying

about frying eggs on a side-

walk  which  is  laden  with 

germs and dirt by definition,

but it's not that hot or we'd

be vaporized instantly, like

vapor which we're not despite

some large percentage of our

bodies being composed of

water... supposedly.  I do not

like  people  who  only  use

clichés (but then again, 

probably yes i do) because

I can't get my brain to stop

screaming the word cliché 

and then passing judgments

on the person based on date

of cliché, age, race, and size.

Can't anyone think of some-

thing better to do with the

hot cement?  Like maybe 

melt a goldfish or turn chili

into lava.  Actually, today it's

not that hot out, it's really

very nice out there but still 

I am inside while the sun

broils a sidewalk in the 

amazon.  It's summer and

the breasts are in bloom.