Ladies of Lezure

2010-09-09T15:44:00.002-05:00

truth be told
i miss this all

SE/24

2009-04-23T08:27:00.000-05:00

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

2009-04-20T00:11:00.002-05:00

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

2009-04-19T23:54:00.002-05:00

"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

2009-04-19T23:34:00.002-05:00

"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.

2009-04-14T16:31:00.002-05:00

And it breaks her heart.

2009-04-14T10:28:00.001-05:00

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.

2009-04-14T00:06:00.002-05:00

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.

2009-04-13T16:00:00.000-05:00

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

2009-04-13T15:56:00.001-05:00

“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!

2009-04-09T18:45:00.001-05:00

My dear child,

please do not fret
We will write poems

peace be with you.

2009-04-09T18:43:00.001-05:00

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

2009-04-09T18:39:00.002-05:00

"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.

2009-04-09T18:38:00.001-05:00

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

2009-04-09T18:35:00.002-05:00

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

2009-04-07T21:33:00.000-05:00

D
A
N
I
E
L
L
E

I
S

T
H
E

O
N
L
Y

POET

it feels so personal, so intimate

2009-04-07T09:33:00.001-05:00

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

2009-04-04T22:25:00.002-05:00

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

2009-04-04T03:33:00.000-05:00

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*

2009-04-03T01:19:00.003-05:00

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.

2009-04-02T13:22:00.002-05:00

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

2009-04-02T08:38:00.000-05:00

sparse hair flubby belly despite the ambiguous genitalia clitoris

he could could fuck me

2009-04-02T00:11:00.003-05:00

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.

2008-06-30T16:52:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-30T10:21:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-29T18:26:00.003-05:00

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

2008-06-28T21:09:00.003-05:00

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)

2008-06-28T14:06:00.002-05:00

"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

2008-06-27T22:33:00.002-05:00

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

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. . .

2008-06-27T09:50:00.004-05:00

No Condition

2008-06-26T21:46:00.003-05:00

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...

2008-06-25T22:03:00.006-05:00

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. . .

2008-06-25T10:14:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-25T08:42:00.003-05:00

"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

2008-06-24T16:14:00.003-05:00

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

2008-06-24T16:06:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-24T15:24:00.001-05:00

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

2008-06-23T16:36:00.002-05:00

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

2008-06-23T12:52:00.003-05:00

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...

2008-06-23T12:43:00.002-05:00

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.

2008-06-22T22:53:00.000-05:00

Everyone is writing and they are missing their girl
Everyone is writing and they are

I am Everyman

2008-06-21T15:27:00.004-05:00

I am the new King, the old king is dead, and I require a coronation. Come stand by my side, Queen. Drink in the sights of our subjects. We are powerful, have new money and drink the
finest wines that the gods can offer.

i am a spacey child whom people mistake for being "challenged." i talk to myself, i eat rolled bologna snacks. They are tasty. i have love and innocence. i have the ability to talk to dogs
who don't talk back.

I am a hooker. I work at night and give my monies to a tap-dancing pimp. I like nightlife, I love to boogie. I'm great at giving blowjobs and telling men that I dig their moves. I dig your moves.
I have a 401-k.

I am a compulsive gambler who has lost their shirt on more than one occasion. Any inside straight, any dog or horse, or boxing match looks good. I'll bet you. . . I need help. I need
a dollar because I'm good for it.

I am a cat. I have green eyes made of marbles. I walk around people who don't like me. I
like to rub against their legs and leave shudders and dander. Give me a mouse and I will
leave you alone. Give me a mouse.

I am a poet. I don't like saying that but I also don't like lying. Yes. . . I do. I know people. I like wine. I like mice. I like flattering men. I like throwing away money that isn't mine.
I like rolled meat snacks.

2008-06-20T20:05:00.002-05:00

It was l o u d in There,

Too l o u d to Think

beat skip

through a hidden slide from first to

a chorus line.

find

command the F-

ing techno box so

plugged

wired

electric zone for

d a n c i n g.

she is in me sweats to

fly feel cool

cramp

release

of diaphramal sounds words

Foreign.

E's Plus

2008-06-20T19:16:00.004-05:00

So I've been slacking <- truth. I'm sorry <- mostly truth. But I've been so busy moving in <- the whole truth. In my free time though, I've created a game. Here are the rules!

To be played by 2 or more.

Version I:

Player one will think of a word with three or more vowels. 3 Consecutive vowels will be given followed by the word plus and the number of remaining vowels which will not be specified (before the chosen consecutive three and/or after). The second player then has up to two minutes (or more or less if predetermined) to produce a word, without the aid of a dictionary, that fits what was called out (meaning the vowels must appear in order in the word, no other vowels sandwiched between them).

ex. "eoe plus zero" ... player two thinks and then comes up with PEOPLE!

ex 2. "oao plus 1" ... player two thinks and then produces a word like TORNADOES! (or POTATOES)

Order of a round -

Person whose name starts with the earliest vowel chooses to receive or give a word first. If the first vowel is the same, move on to the next until someone runs out of vowels and that person will not have the choice.

Person A gets the first vowel set and attempts to solve. (This person has the ability to request a number of possible points to be discussed below)

Person B gets a second vowel set of the same potential point value and attempts to solve.

Person B requests a new potential point value, gets a new vowel set, and attempts.

Person A gets a second vowel set of the same potential point value and attempts.

Play alternates like this until desired point total is reached and a person is declared winner.

On scores reflecting multiples of 3, bonus round A can be requested instead of the normal turn (and second player determines his/her own potential point value or requests a bonus round). On scores reflecting multiples of 5, bonus round B can be requested. One person cannot request two of the same bonus rounds in a row.

Bonus Round A-

All vowels are listed but not in order and you must use them all -> 3 points upon successful completion

Bonus Round B- A 7-14 letter word is given alphabetically -> 4 points

ex. aeenpprsw -> Newspaper

HELPFUL TO BE PLAYED WITH TEXT SUPPORT (i.e. via the internet and/or with pencil and paper.... no dictionaries!)

Scoring -

On a word with only three vowels: 1 point for word

On a word with additional vowels: 1 point for word with only the three vowels given; 2 points for all vowels

Extra 5 points awarded if the word given matches the word that was originally imagined.

Points are lost when:

-A hint is requested, -2. Hints are to be in the form of part of speech of word, placement of extra vowels, number of total letters. A hint renders the extra 5 points void.

-Word given is not an actual word (see Scrabble challenge rules), -3.

Negative scores are possible.

No points are lost or gained if time runs out but the turn ends and the next player may go.

It might sound a bit complicated...but it's not once you start playing, I promise! It's super fun! And challenging!

Version II.

Similar to version I. except for the following twist:

In addition to the three vowels (plus x), up to three consonant rules can be given as well, either letters that must be used or letters that are not to be used. (Ex. oie +1; must use a z.....TERRORIZE)

Instead of extra points when word matches, extra points awarded when consonant rules are given and the word does not match.

Re-reading this, this seems very very complicated. It's really not.

p.s. the name of the game is the game in action ... eee +1... Cerebellum! 'cause the game takes brains! cool huh?

2008-06-19T18:12:00.003-05:00

guy had no clue
weeding on my throax for an hour on holiday
i make a list of possible phone topics
saturday night’s reflection
listening to the horrifying sound of his urine. measuring distance
from the tip of his member’s
yellowed canons doing their long tumble
from my pillow
not to mention boring
not to mention boring

My Body Belongs to the Sea

2008-06-19T10:38:00.002-05:00

so when I die I will want a grand Viking funeral.
I will want my body wrapped in a muslin shroud
and shoved off the gang-planks. I will want someone
to say a few words. The captain from the Love Boat
will do. He's bound to be looking for work. When my
body hits the waves and pulls me into the cold deep,
I will want my friends to sing old Prince songs and then
old Irish drinking songs. I will want my sister to recite
a dramatic interpretation of Shakespeare. Something
from A Midsummer Night's Dream will do. She's
always made a brilliant Puck. She's always full of
shit. I will want someone to fire the canons. At least
nine of them. No less. When my body is enveloped in
the sea grasses and passed from Poseidon's realm
on to Hades', I will want more than a pocketful of
gold coins. I have a lot of bribing to do down there.

What My Therapist is Telling Me

2008-06-19T10:27:00.003-05:00

You're a shrunken cereal box
with no toys, no tattoos, no raisins.
Waiting like Lot's salty wife for the
Holy Land, the one that overfloweth
with milk, honey, and Crispix.

You could have killed the last honey bee
in America without realizing it. Or did you
do it on purpose? You were transferring your
dependency issues onto the wildlife.

I'm not going to come out and ask you
anything. I don't care if you did kill the
Docile European Honey Bee, that's not
my problem. I'm just here to drop a bomb
in your ear and let it marinate.
I think it's interesting that you don't talk
about your mother. . .

Ka-Boom.

2008-06-18T18:54:00.002-05:00

the skirt hangs over
a plastic hanger
wished itself wood,
without me in it
now it's paper
wished itself wood,
i imagine myself hanging
in the dress on the door

this means nothing

i should be outisde
on the concrete slab,
sizzling like meat in a pan

a small fake panneled
wall saves me
from the obligation
of showing up

repeat that one part

2008-06-18T12:46:00.000-05:00

the Mississippi’s waterbag
is between us
separating our love
like a giant diaper

This Living Hand

2008-06-17T21:51:00.000-05:00

This living hand, now warm and capable
Of earnest grasping, would, if it were cold
And in the icy silence of the tomb,
So haunt thy days and chill thy dreaming nights
That thou wouldst wish thine own heart dry of blood
So in my veins red life might stream again,
And thou be conscience-calmed—see here it is—
I hold it towards you.

--John Keats

This Happens Every Day

2008-06-17T21:14:00.004-05:00

puis-tu imaginer

la tête qui grandit

jusqu'au soleil était

caché et tout la terre

s'envelope dans une

feuille de glace

dans l'ombre

tout d'un coup

à cause de toi

et personne d'autre.

c'est ça que je pense

pendant que tu parles

et je n'ai rien entendu.

elle est si jolie!

What? No,

I'm paying attention.

sauvé par la memoire audio.

The Frequency of This Happening is Also Rather Astonishing

2008-06-17T21:12:00.002-05:00

Asleep on the couch

DO NOT

think I can't hear

you eating that

sandwich

made from bread

you must have stashed

in your

condom-

drawer

because I've checked

and there hasn't been

any bread

but the butts

in this house for

a week (or more!)

and I'd know,

because I really want a sandwich

2008-06-17T19:54:00.002-05:00

love goes anywhere
then too many times waking up leftless. the light is terrible. we live in a calendar together (ends in –ar have hard time remembering this spelling) and goddamnit microsoft w. stop automatically taking over my life with your masculinized autocorrections.
i live in a calendar (-dar –dar –dar) the month is june. you could not name your baby September in this country but that woman did.
the Brookfield zoo is a haven of mullets and legless people. i look around the elephants at these mullets. great big cultural hairdoo of the Brookfield zoo. legless person with mullet. that monkey has its very own mullet hairstyle.
love goes to the zoo in underwear
to wake up from my nap leftless
love goes to the nap smelling of wet
deodorant but i have to leave the room
then come back to really smell it

2008-06-17T16:00:00.004-05:00

Our bus was detoured for about
a block or so, causing two elderly
women to walk down the street
to catch the bus. They ambled---
and it took them four minutes but
they were going at top speeds.
It was the most excitement they'd
seen in weeks. They talked very
loudly to one another, recounting
the awesome tale of walking fast.
The event reminded them of the
time the Japs bombed Pearl Harbor.
They walked fast back then. But it
would have taken them less than
four minutes to reach a bus down
street. They talked loudly back
then too.

2008-06-17T01:15:00.000-05:00

Outside
today is a good day
for children to practice witchcraft
with twig hairs

Inside
I hear
a goldfish putter
“I love you
we can conquer this
woman to fish”

Remember Mom’s nag
“You really ought to know
if the person you love
is a drunk
or not a drunk”

but I’m not scared
of these cul-de-sacs

The Colonel

2008-06-16T22:49:00.002-05:00

The Colonel's whole body danced

when he hiccuped

his energy noises. Hidden

in the shelves

of books, we heard him before

we saw him

we should've run the opposite way

to busy our faces with philosophy

or history

or religion

or sex

but POETRY!

The things I've sacrificed for poetry!

How strange the violent hiccups

How animal-like

the southern gent mustache,

earth's growing, moving, reminder of

the Civil War... or

the Alamo.

-Look! Look! Watch it wiggle!

-No I'm too afraid.

Wimp! This is my favorite

poem by E.E. Cummings.

Could I talk to you for a moment?

Go back to Kentucky,

I am scared of you.

-Uh, sure

From his slightly

unkept body

he produced a pendulum and

made us watch as it spun

above all 5 of his fingers,

one finger for each minute

he captured and tortured

our attention.

We did as he said,

stretched out our arms,

put our fingers this way

and the opposite

over our heads and

between our eyes while

he flailed about,

preaching about chi and chakras.

A hippie with windblown white hair!

Ripe with odor!

I've got good energy

said the creepy man.

I learned so much.

felt it in me

2008-06-16T21:57:00.003-05:00

where the circle cover meets
white/white pseudo ruffle cover
i mean my bottom scatter things.
just dweller notice they say
shield it.
movies and coloring books
dust shifts to the carpet
and grows the snuff crop
until i suck a few

my sphere hosts the mess
mirroring the crumbs in my head
motifs clash, it's not how
i wanted it.
the storm will only offer a
deeper, confused
powerless and not stopping

on this day 16

2008-06-16T21:49:00.002-05:00

in the green sound
surrounded i was, i ran.
no gold, chrome or mass
the wind found
me round and rang me
behind what i called the sun.

just volume i measured.
blew the verse
till it knew me
broke the line and
cradled a word.
nothing became a word,
nothing came of me.

i followed you.
tried to subtract the self
confess less
lure the technique
but i you

i. you.

2008-06-16T15:48:00.002-05:00

Extremely small children weird me out
They're too small for comfort.
They've got the same body as I do,
just shrunk down to the size of an
obese beagle.
And that creeps me out.
I didn't deal well when my little sister
was younger, I
had nightmares about her sneaking into my
bedroom and killing me.
she didn't kill me. . . but still.
It was definitely alarming.

2008-06-15T22:54:00.000-05:00

God is not like
catching a somebody
on a dark highway
changing a billboard

Where From Do They All Come?

2008-06-14T15:38:00.003-05:00

The Chinese tourists, who are really students,
huddle together and read the city's map.
The woman in the next kiosk has a distinct
African-ish quality that warrants a
thunderous speech.
The man with a push cart is coughing up his
last dream and last lung filled to the gills with disease.
We all choke on the same burning diesel fuel
when running after an early departure.

2008-06-14T00:34:00.000-05:00

2008-06-14T00:18:00.001-05:00

goddamn hillbillies
no one can float two houses
must be selling drugs
Sue told me
or it was the other Sue
our new neighbor here
was some type of dancer
kind of trashy
kind of hillbilly like
where did all these
goddamn hillbillies
come from?
and their five
goddamn hillbilly kids

The Beings Pouring Out From The Chateau

2008-06-13T20:41:00.004-05:00

Pick one from this list:

Mentally

Intellectually

Cognitively

Developmentally

Very

Now pick one from this list:

Disabled

Challenged

Handicapped

Impoverished

Slow*

Needy*

Retarded*

Whatever you call them,

they're swarming this city.

What's going on??

The Special Olympics!

Oh. Ok. Good.

*I do not recommend this choice. It is politically incorrect. I am politically incorrect. I have listed the choice.

2008-06-13T15:44:00.002-05:00

"I left the last page with some haste," he said
breathlessly. "The words were spilling over the
edge and threatening sloppiness. I had to
get out while I could. You understand, right?"
No one understood. In fact, they were
shamed by his floundering and panic. He knew
the risk behind each word he wrote down.
He knew their implications, repercussions, and all other
"ion's." It's a hairy business, when you don't plan ahead.
But he was different, so he though. Things
were different these days. Not the case, they
warned him. "I can go back," he told them
wiping the sweat from his brow.
"I can fix it. The words are already there. I can just fix them."

Portrait: Our Parents

2008-06-12T10:12:00.003-05:00

I am the tattered remains of a flower child
From the high courts of Haight and Ashbury.
I play the ghost of a busted tambourine
I spin under a wilted daisy chain wreath.

I am the lost nobility of peace, love and good will.
My father is the sun and my mother is the earth
They have communed with the celestial beings
Luna, Sappho, and Diana.

I once shouted amongst brethren against
hate, war, and evil
My sister danced at night to the tune of a million
sugar cubes, my brothers sang songs of freedom

We are exiled into a foreign world now
One of shirts, ties, and brassieres
One that lasts from 9 in the morning to 5 at night.
One with wars.

I am waiting to seek refuge in the old kingdom
I hope they can still hear my tambourine.

2008-06-12T09:44:00.003-05:00

hip hop scotch

to the

ends of the world

but hold on

or you will fall off.

nothing's ever circular

there are edges!

those gusty space

winds will send

you spinning

to some galaxy where

the aliens are people and

we are the aliens

without second

THOUGHT: There are

winds

space

only time

spacetime

and bodies.

bodies too far away to touch

story of my life

story of the universe, too

all the action is long over and done

there's been no play since the

big bang

god came too early

'cause we've all been drifting apart ever since

getting further from everything

getting close to no one

space knows no bigger commitmentphobe

Could we try again?

I've been practicing...

It's so lonely in the center.

Sonnet I (Ode to Bridget)

2008-06-11T22:43:00.006-05:00

We connected originally over a scandalous book

While you served your time in the Cardio room.

It was immediately after that very first look,

Feelings from down-under came to bloom.

But today (of all days!) we shared a drink,

However unsavory it may have been,

It was but our fourth meeting, methinks

And I wait near-silently till fate smiles again.

You are the music of the piano personified,

As sweet as the smoothie we both hated,

I raise you in praise to the countryside

So why have we not yet mated?!

O! Bridget! Let me count the letters of your name,

Eleven! It is meant to be! Mine is exactly the same!

If Maya Angelou were Old and Delusional

2008-06-11T17:07:00.002-05:00

she'd say, "I like the sound of blackness cascading against the rainbow backdrop that is my muesli. W.E.B Dubois would say that the conglomerate of blackness is richly dichotomized. Yes, I said it, dichotomized. I used to be a dancing chicken-headed ho. I was once friends with James Baldwin, he was such a queen, such a black queen. I'm such a crazy bitch. Anyway. . . I wish that Oprah girl would stop pestering me. She wants validation. The summer months are beautiful when you are black. The dandelion fluff is made for you. I like the sound of my own blackness cascading against the rainbow backdrop that is my dangerous love for granola."

2008-06-11T11:57:00.001-05:00

babies are not afraid of feet
parents hate their feet
why?

Henry thinks my feet are cute
parents love the small feet of babies
but hide their neon losing
toes w/ xtra bones

babies enjoy naked bodies
porn stars enjoy their naked bodies
porn stars are like babies
who have cute toes

2008-06-10T23:31:00.001-05:00

old sidewalkers
losing neon
between toes
& poorly assembled
knee bones
lost in cul-de-sacs

This is a Limerick

2008-06-10T22:24:00.002-05:00

Ask how many bugs I ate today

"Way too many" I'll gladly say

It's not a taste I like

Oh the perils of a bike

I just wish they'd all go away

(this was kind of fun. i hadn't written one of these since grade four. yay formulaic verse!)

2008-06-10T20:07:00.002-05:00

i google the keeper
i search for information
regarding the flow, the effects,
my consciousness spurs a social
sigh of relief

instead, i learn about a movie
nonetheless, the keeper
desrcibed as an "absorbing thriller"

i use the keeper
i do not watch the movie
yet the movie and the alternative to
the tampax
share a desrciption

Two Imports Later

2008-06-10T10:01:00.004-05:00

"Oi, oi, oi," I wanted to say after the first Smithwicks.
How cool would I have been?
I held my tongue even though it threatened to loll about in my head.
The bar was full of fans
and a blackened cat fish sandwich and fries never tasted so good.
I don't follow futbol, but I do follow a friend.
"OOHHH!" The Netherlands score and Italy looks dejected.
I missed the whole thing, I was taking a drink.
I'll be sure to shout for the next goal.
My friend hunches over his plate and turns up his Carlsburg.
This is the life. Or the lunch. This is what it's like to be young.
Oscar Wilde would have something witty about compadres
sharing beers and watching organized sports.
Or he would have stolen something witty.
After a London Porter
all of the men on the Dutch side
look fine as hell, even that goalie
with the misshaped ears. I love the Italians.
"OOHHH!" Again?
"Did you see that?" asked my friend.
I catch the instant replay which is just as good.
It doesn't matter. I 'm too far gone to care about who is scoring.
Not far enough, however, to see the beauty and the amazing feats
performed on a field by shin guarded warriors.
This is what it means to be young, I think.
Young and drunk and together with compadres.

2008-06-09T23:20:00.001-05:00

tomorrow
be kinder to write a poem
the only form of intelligence worth having is a kindness one
the government does not make that test or own that test
such a test would be unkind

2008-06-09T22:54:00.002-05:00

Remember when you were a snowman and

I was all of your snowflakes at once?

And when you melted in the sun

I was all of your molecules

But you were my atoms

Together, so entwined that I never ended

And you never ended

Till we were infinite streaks of light

Traveling faster than we were allowed

2008-06-09T22:40:00.001-05:00

you are not
to be let

not to be let
go

essay test

2008-06-09T20:04:00.002-05:00

i use senses apportioned
she plays OED game
bringing the
observation to an obvious sexy
i fantasize
let slip
in a not-so-convincing tone
finger me, Thesaurus
pick my outer layer: shimmy the dead shell:
salivation escaped to moisten
the molting process
that was alliteration
so and so punctured your calcium deposit
i notice these things
by sneaking a peeled eye
i couldn’t finish
the stem changing conjugation
yesterday, i need more time
i used your dictionary
i looked up "come"
my mom opened the door
before i located

*i couldnt figure out spacing, it was cooler when i wrote it earlier

Childhood

2008-06-09T10:26:00.004-05:00

Four dark girls with pencil thin legs
and neon shorts followed their mother
like ducklings to one bus from another
One was sucking her thumb
One was sucking back an Orange Crush
One was licking an ice cream
that dripped down her closed fist
The last was licking, enthusiastically, a red sucker
She'd never get to the stick, though
Not even with her verve
They weren't a loud bunch
nor did they act out like
some other bunches might
They just followed
with their oral fixators
in their neon colored outfits
on their small dusty-handed-down jellies
beneath their brown pencil thin legs.

2008-06-08T23:02:00.006-05:00

She photographs
a series of Illinois
haystacks

this old summer
old winter
her tall child

we are healed light
standing on moss
along sailboats
rich with light

for our children’s
children

2008-06-08T22:52:00.000-05:00

Hello
was doing a weekend with J but now we are back.

we could have been naked
driving for the storm slate ahead
photographing postcards
for our children’s
children
napping in the mobile
left with your family
futon
fiesta wear
blanket & oatmeal
on my arm
ride home
long since
I read your obscure parts
& neck aloud
or any poem
toward the lighting
my parents let me
shower under

This (and an undeserved sense of badassness and/or entitlement) is why other countries hate America

2008-06-08T21:23:00.004-05:00

Enter man and woman, both supersized, the woman supremely so. She is too good for Starbucks air. She has her own oxygen in tow. I can't help feeling that she looks sad. Sad in the way hospitals make people look sad and small and scared. They both have rotton haircuts. They have both piled into chairs. She forms a heap. It is impolite to stare.

Enter Barista. "Venti Mint Mocha Chip Frappucino?" The drink is not in question, only the owner. The woman claims the calories. WE assume the Venti Caramel Frappucino in the Barista's other hand, then, belongs to the man. We are wrong. The Barista too. The woman claims the calories. The man gets only a Grande. He reads, she drinks, she watches. Is he going to finish that?

Enter boy with hideous face. He sits, he drinks the second Venti, he ruins my story. Damn. Boy reads. Man reads. Woman, cup entirely drained, watches. She wears a dress. It's funny how ugly flowers are on dresses.

2008-06-08T01:25:00.004-05:00

I wrote you a poem

then I swallowed it

because I know

that's how you'd want it

if you were here

but you're not

here

(this poem was for yesterday! I just didn't get home till late! there will be another from me! I was hoping we were still on Pacific time. I thought maybe I had a chance. Alas... I have failed.)

The Dance

2008-06-07T10:24:00.004-05:00

I danced to Bjork until I got a
headache and sweat collected under
my arms. I made wild disorganized
moves that were instinctual and
entirely uterine and somewhat majestic.
My sister watched me for a couple minutes,
but went back to her work.
There were about six or seven minutes
where I just heaved and hoed my
body about the room getting back
to my roots. Primordial and without
a home. It wasn't pretty, it wasn't
skilled and it shouldn't be on television.
But it is willed and it is there and it is the
beginning.
The rhythms are sex and birth and
throes of death. I didn't know this,
these word, these articulations.
I know the feelings though.
The sweat on my lip on the nape of
my neck collects and it is real.

$2.50 Upon Entry, 40¢ Per Additional 1/5 Mile

2008-06-06T14:26:00.003-05:00

If I were a taxi driver

I'd be a lesbian taxi driver

I'd say,

"Yeah baby, get in Foxxxy's cab

I'll take you places you ain't never been..."

I'd say it real smooth

And I'd even say ain't like that too

Because sometimes I really think that word

Except, then, usually I feel shame.

It's Over

2008-06-06T11:18:00.002-05:00

There might be sniper fire
But I am presumptive
This is about you, though. . .
The blue collars, the red-necks, the welfare mommies.
I cried a little, that's what happened
on the east coast.

There was some bullying some entitlement some preaching
We saw an American iconic event/hero/grace fall/rise before
the people. We the people
saw a herculean women fall to her knees and cry:
"I'm in it--- TO WIN IT!!"
A young boy, a little brother, came to her side
and silently glorified in her descent. We cheered him on.

We saw and we congratulated the boy
who survived long enough to
be swallowed whole by our gusto.

2008-06-05T21:11:00.002-05:00

for Henry

possibly because you are the only person I know
from Kazakhstan?
and resemble a potato

you are very special
and three years old
(you also have lesbian parents and I think
that is very cool)

I never knew
how many animals
one knows
and can draw

today
draw sleeping chikmunk, swimin dolphin, elphant, graf, little guy, dog, cat, zebra, that, dragon, lion, turtle, rhino, hipplepottlemus, duck, draw duck walking, bird flying, Henry!

possibly because you held no
grudge after
45 minutes
wresting a pair of navy shorts

if you had a gun
you would have shot me
in the foot
but ten minutes later
you told me
I love you

I teach you how to picnic
yes, the guinea pigs should join
and the ants
babyseal, whale, dolphin (in the deep blue sea)
should join
to share
Mac & Cheese in the sun

Portrait: Gary (Bus Driver)

2008-06-05T10:15:00.001-05:00

I got this talkative bus driver
named Gary, who makes it his
business to know where you're going, even if you didn't say hello to him when you got on the bus; even if you are wearing headphone.
He's got this belly that's as full
of hot air as he, and this white
beard, and these copper aviators
Gary, the bus driver, reminds me of what I thought Gary Snyder, the poet, looked like before I actually saw his picture.
It turns out that Gary Snyder, the poet, is or was,
depending on how one looks at him, an attractive man.
A little on the hippy side, but never. . .the. . .less.
"I'm not coming back this way later on," says Gary, the bus driver. "You're going to want to take the Nite-Ride back home," says his arrogant-all-knowing belly.
I nod under my headphones.

The Tour

2008-06-05T09:45:00.001-05:00

Let me be the first to welcome you all to the word factory. This here is where language is made. Each of these great machines turns out thousands of letters per day. Oh look, you're just in time to watch the K's roll out! K K K! Oh boy! Over there, inspector 11 is in charge of the the. No teh gets past him when he's on duty! His wife is pregnant wouldn't you know! Can't wait to get that baby on the line! No, that's a joke. We abandoned child labor years ago. Terribly inefficient. Cheap though. Very cheap. Watch your step, come this way. At these tables, new words are coined. Our most brilliant minds work post-office-style hours to make the slang for the children. Manually scrambling the letters like that really gets their juices flowing. I'm sorry, madame, was that too graphic? What are they working on now? Looks like "Vlape." Meaning what exactly!? That will never stick, guys. Try again. Just start over. Oh how embarrassing! Not everything they come up with is as brilliant as I give them credit for. I just say that. It's positive reinforcement. Corporal punishment? Oh, no, we abandoned that years ago. Too costly. Gents kept quitting. We've reached the part of the tour when it is advisable to use the restroom facilities. Once we move to assembly room 2, I'm glad to say, the excitement makes stopping just torture! The excitement, and well, the danger. Oh nothing too serious. We haven't had a single death since last month! No, I'm just kidding, no one has died since '97, before we got those new, stricter laws. The kid deserved it though, bloody little wanker! Yes, yes now you're catching on! I tell these jokes to keep it fun. Fun makes you tip better. Lord knows I need the money. None of the other guides tell jokes; they think it distracts from the extraordinary things that go on here. Me, I figure, a little joke now and then couldn't hurt. Is everyone back? A water fountain is on your right if you need it. No! Sir! Stay away from that door! Oh my! That one too. Behind there, they are making the world's supply of profanities. Well, behind that door there, they're making love. That's enough water. Time to move on. Please secure your children. Let's go! Quickly please! This way!

2008-06-04T23:14:00.000-05:00

With words that describe you
I start sleep
at sight we blush
four more senses
to go

thinking as a poet
what exactly is happening?
I am allowed another sense

the way is linear
why tho?
feels inherently
circular

I am allowed another sense

My sunblock

2008-06-04T17:51:00.000-05:00

My sunblock contains Homosalate.

I contain Homosalate.

My sunblock contains Octisalate.

I do not contain Octisalate.

It came in a dream

2008-06-04T14:11:00.000-05:00

Eat paste, potato lips!

I am uterus exposed!

My construction

Paper shirttail has finally

Come unglued

I'll give you my tongue

Depressor castle

If you'll be my friend.

Do I look swollen to you?

I can't understand you(r), beatnik

logic I am puking light!

I am beheading princes of faraway thrones!

It is never

A good time

Unless

Someone is dying.

You next?

Who me?

Rugelach

2008-06-04T10:50:00.001-05:00

I want to be a rugelach.
I'd like an excuse to say
something in Yiddish for once.
I'm not a Jew, but I know
a putz who is constantly
shickered and drives his
motha' meshuggener
I want to be a rugelach
with old world cinnamon
and Brooklyn apples, with
some chopped stereotypical
walnuts, who say: "You're
getting skinny, you need to
eat!" I've got to shout it with
a nasally accent from a laced
doily on a cookie platter. "Eat
the rugelach, bubula, it's your
favorite."
If I were a rugelach, I could
feed my grand-children
savory treats from "Old country."
We could sing songs and stuff our
faces. We could nosh to our heart's
content.
"If you come visit Nana, I'll tell you
story of how I met grandpapa in
the Warsaw Ghettos, eh?"
I would be a wholesome treat for the kiddies

2008-06-03T21:51:00.001-05:00

Mom!
Let’s talk
by umbilical cord
like we used to

Mary Kay Harms

2008-06-03T20:30:00.000-05:00

We are bears. We are giant bears and she is black or brown or goddamn fucking Smokey for all I care, but I am Polar. Polar because people like me are all but extinct these days. Renaissance people like Da Vinci. We are kindred spirits, Leo and I. I'd let him draw me naked. We'd joke and he'd get pissass drunk and make his move and I'd tell him to fuck off and then we'd solve puzzles together. Or maybe invent stuff. Leo's ghost hops gleefully somewhere beyond the grave because it likes the idea of being bearlike. If there is a beyond the grave. I don't know when a black or brown bear would fight a polar bear but they are sworn mortal enemies. That is a fact. The world is filled with facts. There is another.

We are maybe more like dogs. Starved dogs. Dogs that grew up far from homes where the porch light was on. The kind that fight in basements for mexican aliens (the only real aliens?). Vegas odds are 4 to 1 that she'll win but I've got gusto and nothing to lose. Shit. I wish there was something to lose.

What it (costs) to wake up

2008-06-03T10:37:00.000-05:00

I've got coffee balanced (clenched)
in my right hand.
There's swine frying (crackling)
behind me.
The world is beckoning (calling)
from the front.
Yoo-hoo! Hello there!
I look expectantly (cautiously)
at the news channel it (caws)
like an incessant crow telling me the (crazed)
shit that's going on outside.
Get a load of this!
There's bombs blasting and (catching)
kids on fire. There is beautiful (chaos)
stripping the world and the like (clean)
of intelligible (convictions)
Look what I've got!
Well guess what? My coffee's gone (cold)
I'm now in (capable)
eating breakfast ('cause)
the whole world's gone to (crap)
My job is done!

2008-06-03T10:00:00.000-05:00

ses·ti·na (n) a poem of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy, originally without rhyme, in which each stanza repeats the end words of the lines of the first stanza, but in different order, the envoy using the six words again, three in the middle of the lines and three at the end.

A Bold Attempt at Sestina

Technology has failed journey.
Restless limbs in contempt
succumbing to a preview of closeness,
she gains ground by way of a chord.
This lack of understanding
must be crazy to leave.

Knowing the date, stalling the time to leave
the plan is rush the sidelong journey.
Grapple with a minutiae understanding,
head, heart together in contempt
knowing the best part of her cannot travail the chord.
Knowing it only comes in closeness.

Enjoyment comes in a secluded closeness
when she stays, the objective is to leave
in a forward way and to embrace a tiny chord.
In a clear moment, she realizes the dual journey.
The sentiment lessens to blunt contempt.
There is a chasm between understanding

and the act of her understanding.
Love is now used in an exclusive closeness.
She does not offer a hand of contempt,
shame, or malevolence. They boast and leave.
Although words may emblazon the journey,
her fingers answer to a swollen chord.

How can I screen the chord?
Opening lids, full-wide to understanding
the ideal of an intellectual journey
is the ending, resulting in mere closeness.
There will be a time she wont decide to leave.
She senses a lack of contempt.

The annual feeling resembles flight. Contempt
to stay, cutting the love chord,
going to leave,
recognizing the false understanding,
once more to shun closeness
and avoid a black journey.

Blaming the brain and spinal chord, she rejects understanding
for a postponement in contempt of physical closeness
to leave the aftermath of a completed journey.

2008-06-03T00:50:00.000-05:00

I didn’t know Harvard
okay
I knew it was a good school
but
didn’t know it was the place
well
I knew it was a good place

Hey

2008-06-02T18:02:00.001-05:00

Hey you!

Black boy!

I'm onto you

Not in the way you wish I was

Onto you,

In the way that creeps me out and doesn't

Get you off

I don't flirt

With boys.

Remember when

You saw me in Wal-Mart

And you called out and gave your

Nod of approval - as if

I asked you

Or something.

Do that head thing again and

I'll sock you in the eye.

Hey you!

Brown face!

You're not the first

Not even the only

Of my classless, tactless suitors

Paul? Steve? Dennis? Whatever.

I don't even know your name.

Hymn of the Foofy

2008-06-02T10:25:00.001-05:00

Gracious be thy Foofy
Hallow be they foof, for foof come
To the Foof of yesteryear, I say
Foofy!
To the foof of present, I say
Foofy!

Yet only a forsaken Foof
Unto us resounding, Foof recall

For the clever Foof, forever foofdom
Coming together to witness
The Foof from within
Surmounting to her voice, on high

And she said “Joy unto the Foofy!”