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
Thursday, April 23, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
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.
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.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
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.
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
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.
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.
Monday, April 13, 2009
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.
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.”
“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.”
Thursday, April 9, 2009
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.
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.
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
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
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
Saturday, April 4, 2009
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.
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.
Friday, April 3, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, April 2, 2009
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
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
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. )
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.
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