My back started curving one day when I
wasn't watching. (It was listening
when I told myself to hide.)
I craned my head forward, up, out,
teenage hunchback,
a question mark fallen on its side.
And now I don't know how to right myself--
except when he shows me, when
he moves my shoulders down and
my neck back and
my stomach up somehow
(it's in my throat)
and his hands flit over me,
fixing me in a hundred places,
all the places where I warped what I was given.
And it feels like sunshine, or slower waves.
I think about starting over. Is this starting over?
I blur lines, body and mind.
And I couldn't tell you which side of them I'm on,
or if sides even exist when
the sun is on my edges with his flitting hands,
throwing shadows out of my shape,
lifting their weight because he can.
As I watch, he irons the dark shapes to the ground
which holds all bodies
and all secrets.
Tuesday, June 28, 2011
Friday, June 17, 2011
Saying It
These are the warning signs-
If you find yourself with someone at a favorite place
In June, or August
The leaving months, good settings for goodbyes
Be on your guard for
Prolonged eye contact, sudden silence. Run
If they say "well" or "so.."
Sprint if they start the g-word.
Politeness is for people who are practiced with these things.
If you find yourself with someone at a favorite place
In June, or August
The leaving months, good settings for goodbyes
Be on your guard for
Prolonged eye contact, sudden silence. Run
If they say "well" or "so.."
Sprint if they start the g-word.
Politeness is for people who are practiced with these things.
Sunday, June 5, 2011
In Death's Library
There are only children's books.
And not the depressing ones where the mother dies,
or the pet dies,
or the grass dies.
The children's books that involve birthdays mostly and
sometimes Halloween but only if nobody gets scared and everybody wears a
hilarious costume.
Death's librarian chooses carefully.
If she missteps, Death may not go out to work
Death may stay in bed
(it has happened before)
and let the detrivores crawl to his door waving
their cockroach arms for mercy, for
Death to stop crying and start working
so they can feed their families.
In Death's library, eating is allowed
and running and shouting too because
if you need to, you need to.
Death's world is quiet enough without having
an entire room for silence.
And not the depressing ones where the mother dies,
or the pet dies,
or the grass dies.
The children's books that involve birthdays mostly and
sometimes Halloween but only if nobody gets scared and everybody wears a
hilarious costume.
Death's librarian chooses carefully.
If she missteps, Death may not go out to work
Death may stay in bed
(it has happened before)
and let the detrivores crawl to his door waving
their cockroach arms for mercy, for
Death to stop crying and start working
so they can feed their families.
In Death's library, eating is allowed
and running and shouting too because
if you need to, you need to.
Death's world is quiet enough without having
an entire room for silence.
Waiting for the Department of Motor Vehicles To Open
i slide down the bricks to the
cemented cobblestones letting the morning sun under my skin
an overgrown man grows towards me
and grinds his cigarette into the ashtray
besides me, two inches from my face
the hot and sour weedy smell so real compared to
its wispy smoke
i open the california driver's manual for the first time:
note where you are.
do not be in someone's blind spot, especially that of a large truck or
a streetcar
and yet the kid next to me
is drifting
is spitting on the ground, small explosive bouts of drooling.
he watches it pool in the pavement and
the bubbles form and rise and pop.
cemented cobblestones letting the morning sun under my skin
an overgrown man grows towards me
and grinds his cigarette into the ashtray
besides me, two inches from my face
the hot and sour weedy smell so real compared to
its wispy smoke
i open the california driver's manual for the first time:
note where you are.
do not be in someone's blind spot, especially that of a large truck or
a streetcar
and yet the kid next to me
is drifting
is spitting on the ground, small explosive bouts of drooling.
he watches it pool in the pavement and
the bubbles form and rise and pop.
“My Best Friend Max Wincester Explains It All To Me in Third Grade At Recess”
Listen.
I'll tell you how it happened
but you can't interrupt, not even
if you think of something really good.
Kid America ran away from Mama England cause
she was being mean like mamas sometimes are.
So America wrote her a letter called the Declaration,
and declared that his new house was a continent and she couldn't
take away his pocket money anymore.
But wait. I'm getting mixed up. Before that was Columbus, who
cleared out the brush and also the Indians,
but then there was some fighting about the Civil War but then
Abraham Lincoln said together we stand,
divided we fall, which is why
no one walks anywhere alone nowadays.
World Wars One and Two, there were some others
that happened to other people, but
those won't be on the quiz.
But I forgot, sometime in the middle of that
Amelia Earhart sailed through the sky but
over the Pacific, which was twice as blue but not as deep,
maybe she got confused or something, anyways she crashed and
all they found was fingerbones.
I pledge allegiance to the flag,
One nation, under God,
Praise Jesus who hath written in our Constitution
of the separation of church and state,
but not this state so don't worry.
And that's history, you're
welcome.
I'll tell you how it happened
but you can't interrupt, not even
if you think of something really good.
Kid America ran away from Mama England cause
she was being mean like mamas sometimes are.
So America wrote her a letter called the Declaration,
and declared that his new house was a continent and she couldn't
take away his pocket money anymore.
But wait. I'm getting mixed up. Before that was Columbus, who
cleared out the brush and also the Indians,
but then there was some fighting about the Civil War but then
Abraham Lincoln said together we stand,
divided we fall, which is why
no one walks anywhere alone nowadays.
World Wars One and Two, there were some others
that happened to other people, but
those won't be on the quiz.
But I forgot, sometime in the middle of that
Amelia Earhart sailed through the sky but
over the Pacific, which was twice as blue but not as deep,
maybe she got confused or something, anyways she crashed and
all they found was fingerbones.
I pledge allegiance to the flag,
One nation, under God,
Praise Jesus who hath written in our Constitution
of the separation of church and state,
but not this state so don't worry.
And that's history, you're
welcome.
An EP
Track 01
Adam and Eve, deaf and dear
in Eden's silent wonder
suspected there was more.
Eve bit first,
brave new girl.
Track 02
There is no sound in space.
Or-- they haven't found it yet.
Fetus-floating, tethered to the mothership,
the sailors sing anyway,
convinced that the sound means they're still there.
(Home, where my thoughts escape to, home, where my music's playing)
Track 03
Live on the Migration Route of the Pacific Gray Whale
AAAAAOOUUUUUUUUU
UUOOAAAAAAAAAAAUUUOOOOO
AAAUUUUAAAOOO
(Swim closer to me. We have a long way yet.)
Track 04
In the hale heart of the woods
tents on our backs like
unsteady turtles
we settled in by a tiny lake.
From across the water: a pan flute
hollow calling joy and peace
and loneliness.
Adam and Eve, deaf and dear
in Eden's silent wonder
suspected there was more.
Eve bit first,
brave new girl.
Track 02
There is no sound in space.
Or-- they haven't found it yet.
Fetus-floating, tethered to the mothership,
the sailors sing anyway,
convinced that the sound means they're still there.
(Home, where my thoughts escape to, home, where my music's playing)
Track 03
Live on the Migration Route of the Pacific Gray Whale
AAAAAOOUUUUUUUUU
UUOOAAAAAAAAAAAUUUOOOOO
AAAUUUUAAAOOO
(Swim closer to me. We have a long way yet.)
Track 04
In the hale heart of the woods
tents on our backs like
unsteady turtles
we settled in by a tiny lake.
From across the water: a pan flute
hollow calling joy and peace
and loneliness.
oh yeah this exists.
(rejected commencement speeches are the bomb diggity)
On this, the day of our graduation, there's a lot of self-congratulatory talk. You know: "We did it!! Go us!" And we should be proud to consider certain aspects of the past four years. But I know that I, at least, have some less proud moments. Some apologies to Pali. These are (some of) my confessions:
• I have carried a Sharpie onto campus multiple times.
• My phone has gone off more than once in the same class period.
• I fell asleep in the library beanbags more than once, and I'm going to be honest here, I might have drooled a little bit.
• I don't think I participated in the wave in a single pep rally.
• I have pretended not to know what Jorge meant when I was wearing a hat and he gestured at my head.
• I have perhaps abused the free milk policy, but to be fair I only realized it existed this year.
• For four years, I have contributed to the traffic blockage on the second floor balcony above the quad.
• I have never in my memory covered a math textbook.
• I may have huffed some rubber cement in 9th grade, but I maintain that that was an accidental but inevitable side effect of taking Ms Curren's class.
• I have used the roof to make important phone calls that in retrospect were not as important as I thought they were.
I guess I'm telling you all this because I can. I can say all these little things right now because right now we're sort of invincible. Today we get to forget about confessions and mistakes, and pretend to remember only the good things. Today we could be anything, could do anything, (maybe even have a conversation about something besides each other.) For the moment, we can say goodbyes with nostalgia looking back, and hope looking forward. As we go, we carry with us the support of the parents, teachers, friends, and staff who put up with us. Thanks for making us laugh, making us think, and inspiring us to suck less. Thanks for letting us be dumb teenagers but also for expecting more of us. Thanks for letting us make our own decisions and our own mistakes.
And finally, because some self-congratulatory talk is in order: Congratulations, Class of 2011, because when we throw up our hats, we'll be as free as our hair.
On this, the day of our graduation, there's a lot of self-congratulatory talk. You know: "We did it!! Go us!" And we should be proud to consider certain aspects of the past four years. But I know that I, at least, have some less proud moments. Some apologies to Pali. These are (some of) my confessions:
• I have carried a Sharpie onto campus multiple times.
• My phone has gone off more than once in the same class period.
• I fell asleep in the library beanbags more than once, and I'm going to be honest here, I might have drooled a little bit.
• I don't think I participated in the wave in a single pep rally.
• I have pretended not to know what Jorge meant when I was wearing a hat and he gestured at my head.
• I have perhaps abused the free milk policy, but to be fair I only realized it existed this year.
• For four years, I have contributed to the traffic blockage on the second floor balcony above the quad.
• I have never in my memory covered a math textbook.
• I may have huffed some rubber cement in 9th grade, but I maintain that that was an accidental but inevitable side effect of taking Ms Curren's class.
• I have used the roof to make important phone calls that in retrospect were not as important as I thought they were.
I guess I'm telling you all this because I can. I can say all these little things right now because right now we're sort of invincible. Today we get to forget about confessions and mistakes, and pretend to remember only the good things. Today we could be anything, could do anything, (maybe even have a conversation about something besides each other.) For the moment, we can say goodbyes with nostalgia looking back, and hope looking forward. As we go, we carry with us the support of the parents, teachers, friends, and staff who put up with us. Thanks for making us laugh, making us think, and inspiring us to suck less. Thanks for letting us be dumb teenagers but also for expecting more of us. Thanks for letting us make our own decisions and our own mistakes.
And finally, because some self-congratulatory talk is in order: Congratulations, Class of 2011, because when we throw up our hats, we'll be as free as our hair.
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