updates

have made some updates to the submission page



notably:
look for today's date for details on a complimantry poems entry
also, received an email from Xcp this afternoon
(day 6 i think it falls under)

linear

cane sugar by products
are lined up along the side of the road
in cheap plastic sandals
happy enough to have souls on their feet.

tribute

the pomegranate orchid

that our father planted

on the migrate north
late last june

has been photographed
and molds made

for the next mint of coins

the behaviour patterns of orange

the equation is unusual
but through every test possible
the results are undeniable

rocking chair (gamer model) + innocent orange ribbon = a good time

the patterns are simple
though inconsistent to the point
where we cannot possibly label them
as patterns at all

nap > meow > think about the water then pass on the water > eat food

attack ribbon > pretend you didn't attack the ribbon just then > catch ribbon off guard with second attack

the linguistic complexity of meowing
is tripled with this one in particular
who has invented a new kind of noise

"meerrrreowow"

in high g with modulation tending towards one eighth lower at each duplicate vowel representation and elevated by one eighth from the original note upon the resonating second 'o'.

the overall effect of these behavioural patterns are apparent: though inconsistent in quality and quantity the literate poetess has all but been brainwashed by the undeniable cuteness of an itty bitty kitty named max (for short).

ねこ の はい(な) く

ねこ
はちさい
とかわいいです


[neko no hai(na)ku]

[neko
wa chisai
to kawaii desu]

bay side way

gone by some way side port
on the cost of massachusetts

an orange cat hides under the bed
of a boy with a bright future

they can see the masts of ships
from a round bedroom window

counting them as they enter
and exit the docks of the marina

silk trail

we walked along the side of a the road
listening to caterpillars descend

that crisp plip plop

and got their silky thread caught in our hair;
on our arms

we walked into them as they fell to the ground

by the time we got home
he had 7 of them crawling around
on his back

the long way

we were lying down the long way
when the tides shifted in the cove

clipper ships swivvled and capsized
in the wake of a realistic day dream

...

read the rest

me-wants

i am not an overly wanting kind of person. in fact, i very rarely (these days) treat myself to such girl-type things as bags, shoes, more bags, etc; never mind clothes. i have two pairs of jeans that i really love and they both have holes in the knees; it's time to go shopping (or i could just wear skirts for the next 4 months).

unfortunately, the husbee and i are on a budget in order to afford a few expensive expenses at the mo, so am having to put my oh-so-rare me-wants on hold. i can drool though, can't i? and i can make a long picture-laden post about my me-wants on my blog, right? ^_^



first and most foremost on the list of me-wants is this amazingly wonderously cute pair of converse high tops. now, i'm typically a lo-tops kinda girl, but anyone with kawaii-no-senses will understand why i couldn't settle for a pair of lo-tops while these sneaks are in such need of my wearing.

secondly on the me-wants list is this watch, which i have subject you to before, and am going to shamelessly subject you to again here. so ner.
reason for wanting such an awesomely awesome watch when i already have two nice watches i could happily live with wearing but hardly wear anyway? because neither of the two nice watches i could happily live with wearing but hardly wear anyway are green! i have a very nice $80 reef watch (silver with blue face) and a hipster-type purple/purple watch that my sis-in-law gave me for christmas a few years back. this gator-watch though, is superior in that it is a paul frank watch. the bird's name is toothbrush. how is that not totemo kawaii!?

ah, then i made the expensive mistake of browsing michelle's links and stumbling upon magic pony where i discovered this super stylin' blue tote with billy goats gracing its side. i don't think i even made it half way down the page before spotting this bag. one of those "omg must have" moments overcame me before i even realized i'd clicked on the item's thumbnail.





now, my birthday isn't for another 5 and a half months, but that's alright because Viva Pinata doesn't come out for the xbox360 until november anyway. so far in my life has a gamer has seen very few a me-wants. there was nintendogs, animal crossing for the ds, i looked forward to the new super mario bros. and even played black&white2 for a bit. but with the wii on the way and such kiddie-friendly games as viva pinata for the xbox, how could i not be excited. notice a re-occuring theme here with the alligator types cropping up. i am particularly fond of this screen shot on account of it looks like the alligator type thing is gonna nip some tail-feathers of that poor little pirate duck.



... lastly on katy's me-wants list is trip to florida land at the end of october to see pa and irene as well as get to spend a night at the hard rock hotel and get scared-voiceless at universal studios' fright nights. it's looking like will defiantly be getting most of this (the night at the hard rock is not a definite, as it's costs about $300 to stay just one night).

that's not too much to want is it? considering i decided that i don't actually need nor want an mp3 player for my afternoon jog after all.

now, alls i need to get this stuff is some spare moneys.

a good afternoon (a work in progress)

for $75 an hour a hired limousine
took us to the brackish lake
where you used to fish every sunday.

a duck hunter, hound by his side,
waded knee deep in marshy grass
waiting for unsuspecting ducks to fly by.

the driver shared cans of sprite with us
as we drove down a dirt road to your house.

from inside the limosine we watched
as a brown hawk crossed the road.

stretching its wings mid way between
your yard and the neighbor's we could see
feathers missing from the right wing
where the hunter's bullet had missed.

[notes: i have tried to limit my pronouns here; not sure that i actually did though! am not happy, still, with the final strophe. it doesn't resonate right just yet... something about "where the hunter's bullet had missed." am i sure it's the hunter and not a hunter? am i sure it missed? and i've had to drop out the bit about the flower which i really liked in the original version... still working on this one, trying to find a balance, but am doing it in the public eye (as it motivates me to make real changes in my revisions).]




original:
we hired a white limousine
for $75 an hour

and took it out
to your favorite fishing spot.

at the bracken lake we saw
a duck hunter wading in marshy grass

his hound by his side,
but we saw no ducks.

when we got home we watched
a hawk cross the street

from our yard to the neighbor's.
half way there it spread its wings

and ate the flower
that stuck out of the pavement;

the hawk had been shot
by the gun of the hunter.

we could tell by the missing feathers
from its spread right wing.

hey glenn!

i made a tangram-hay(na)ku hybrid:

tumult
rose under
miraculous forming beads

you* can rearrange the words in any order, even manipulate the
hay(na)ku (backwards?) for different visual effects.

way to inspire and all that ^_^


*you = anyone

_____circus peanuts_____ (or) evil orange treats [part 1]

they involve us in their syncopatic redundancies
make us wear clown outfits and plastic wigs
*
they do tricks with pens and fold paper into birds
before juggling small woodland creatures in food courts
*
they tie unsuspecting passersby in thick thorny vines
with pink flowers that make them itch and scratch
*
they force animal shaped balloons onto children
crying hysterically if the child refuses their gift

a good afternoon

we hired a white limousine
for $75 an hour

and took it out
to your favorite fishing spot.

at the bracken lake we saw
a duck hunter wading in marshy grass

his hound by his side,
but we saw no ducks.

when we got home we watched
a hawk cross the street

from our yard to the neighbor's.
half way there it spread its wings

and ate the flower
that stuck out of the pavement;

the hawk had been shot
by the gun of the hunter.

we could tell by the missing feathers
from its spread right wing.


[notes: i named this poem before i wrote it. though, i knew before i wrote it that i would mention the hurt hawk (which i did actually see today, this morning, crossing each of the lawns in my neighborhood. i don't know that it was shot, but it was defiantly hurt). unfortunatly, the poem has turned out rather... emotionless, which bothers me. i thought about changing it, about editing it, but decided not to in the end.

the apathy in the narrator's voice that grinds at me is something that, having thought about it i have realized, happens in so many poems. even poems as lovely and wonderful as those of grim tales, or in works by matthew rohrer. so what is it that makes a poem work like the ones in grim tales, versus something like this poem that i just wrote (which doesn't work for me at all)? this is something to ponder. something to discuss? any ideas are welcome.]

はい(な) く (ni/2)

we
are careless
with our socks

はい(な) く

hitting
each other's
backs with sticks

biting
each other's
lips in fits

understanding
each other's
ideas with ease

remembering
each other's
histories as lovers










the title of this post is in hirigana
what is hay(na)ku?

[stretched and penniless]

_____we lay
stretched and penniless
over victorian furniture;

naked angels drawing circles over our heads,
trapping us in age

as we contemplate the rumors
overheard on the train last saturday.

tumult and chaos erected a fountain
of spring water to be given freely
in the town center;

we are reminded of all the languages
that water translates into.

while making our way
to the fountain for drinks

you stepped on a salamander
and scared the angels away

leaving us unaided
to round up and round down

to the nearest wooden nickle.

=^_^= kitty update =^_^=

we went to see our lovely little monster max yesterday! he's finally eating kitty food, and he'll be 6 weeks on saturday, so we're going to go pick him up and take him home on sunday!! we went to petsmart yesterday after visiting him to work out what we'd need to get his mightyness, which was fun. he's not allowed "bling" according to ryan. oh, and we're going to stray from encouraging the digestion of our fishy friends (so no toys with little orange fish shaped catnip sacks, for example).




danielle just got to meet max yesterday; she writes about her experience with the mighty one here.

[let us compare where we're from]

let us compare where we're from
using our bodies as maps;
_____my arm is a cape
_____your leg is a straight
then we draw on boundaries
with blue ball-point pens
and label the capitals with stars

upon reaching the edge of our bellies
bloated with harbors and famous landmarks
we'll invite the cat to come play
and he'll show us his home planet
using string to make rings around himself--
a 3D model of meow-minima double zed one--

we'd always known he was clever

the troll

she let the guilt compound in her chest
like water buffalo swarming stampeding a barren plane

she sought redemption in ritual starvation
and followed the path of the snake

alone and unclean she waited in turmoil
all the while her heart grew harder each day

for what she had done, she thought,
no lesser punishment could justify

what petty crimes she had partook
against the most redeemable people

they were the tortured faces
of her unruly nightmares

and so she took to absorbing the illness
until she too became one of them

a redeemable treasure in our eyes
a saint with scars on her face

ta-da!

the act of being fruit
as published by 'a.pos.tro.phe
volume II number III
(may/june 2006)

robot poem: alert! alert!

when i am not in the right mind-set to write one myself, at the very least i can count on someone else to do it for me. do what, you ask? write a fantastic robot poem of course!

and so, please direct your attention to crunchy weta's
Robot Rendering at PKD

missing mickey

off to a parallel universe with you then, mickey the idiot. am so gonna miss your antics...



...and who's the doctor going to make fun of?

not mickey smith, not any more, not after saving the earth (albeit a parallel one). not after destroying the cybermen and preventing from taking over the planet and then the universe, no way.

yeah so, i cried when he said he wasn't going with rose and the doctor back to their universe of origin. guess i should just be pleased that he didn't get dead like rickey did...

sigh

have been reading grim tales -- per recommendation by brian-- and am enjoying every tiny tale in all its glorious sensuality. the collection has a fantastic ability to undermine reality just enough to make you wriggle. poet Norman Lock, i applaud you.

and here i was expecting another rejection

Hi Katy,

Your poem "the act of being fruit" is being published in the May/June 2006 issue. Please send a short biography to go along with your poem. Thanks.

Saty Patrabansh

note: saty is from 'a.pos.tro.phe
note: katy is from a happy place

personism

i dial his number hoping to get the answering service. the lady leaves instructions, i follow. bleeep. brian, this is what frank o'hara meant when he described personism. it's a phone call, unscripted. i could have written a poem, posted it on my blog and let you stumble upon it. forget that, who else cares to read my personal message to you? no one, most likely.
anyway, i just wanted to say hi. to show you personism fisrt hand. no, first voice. you know, this sounded a lot better in my head. maybe i should have written it down. i meant to say hello and i miss you. miss you waltzing in, changing my line breaks, nodding your head, pulling one out, turning, and walking away.
how are you? when's your poetry tour? maybe i should read this as my introduction to you.
i shouldn't let this message get too long. catch you later.
i let the phone away from my ear and press the red button on the key pad. call time 1:46.

inspired

you urge me to draw grey circles
when i should be drawing black squares.

the audience admire the struggle
between a poet and novelist from balcony seats.

the film begins, a single celled organism
through the cycle of dimming lights

to the inflatable coffin whereby
we lay our dead pets to rest.






[note: thank you to a)my psyche for thinking up these kinds of moments while i sleep and b)monica de la torre and her trouble series in fence vol.9 no.1]

warm up

it's thursday morning, i start my working week on thursdays. today is my monday. and this little poem is my warm up, my morning stretch. i intend on reading some fine poetry today. i intend to feed off of it and write something just as fine by the days end. that's not a definite plan, i'm not a fortune teller. but it has been long enough since i wrote a few good poems in a day.

so here's the start, something a bit trite, not quite followed through. not bad for a stretch though...

i dreamt in a forest
on a bed of moss
lit by some radiant yellow

by lightning bugs or moon

i dreamt we loved
like pixies
biting each other's shoulders and lips

your finest features illuminant
glow awash over us

acceptance plus

am bubbling over with joy at the mo. just got my acceptance letter from umass dartmouth! (it's always a good sign when it's a fat envelope.)

so i am officially enrolled in the master's program as soon as i send them this little grey card to confirm that i'll be attending in the fall.

now, for the plus part!! i have been "awarded" a teaching assistantship!! (which means a two-semester tuition waiver and some extra $$ on top!)

how is that not fantastic?



asides (in techno-colour):

got another rejection email from a zine (can be found on the submissions page, scroll all the way down to the bottom and press the button, you like it).

"New Super Mario Brothers" for the DS is AWESOME!!!

am listening to majida al-roumi because she's beautiful

am reading "Only Human" by gareth roberts (the official dr who novel) and loving it

and if you want to know the weather where i am: happy, sunny, windy, partly birdy skies.

mother's day

ah, just like every other poet in the universe, a poem is writ on this day in honor of mom. to make mine special, though, i have decided to forego the whole poetry thing and just write a few little details that one may read as a poem if one desires.

my mom is especially special to me, as she is my mom. while she was pregnant with me she had to have a majority of her molars removed. this, is, of course, my fault. i said my first word on mother's day. that word was "dada". she will never let me live this one down. she was my girl scout leader, though i only made it to brownie. she was my soccer coach, then meg's, then mike's. she taught us all how to waddle like ducks in order to keep the ball between our feet and under control. it worked. we watched star trek together. she had the complete silver edition collection of the first generation star trek on VHS. and when i told her i wanted to learn violin, she didn't hesitate; she drove me to lessons, came to all my concerts, listened to all my squealing during practice. she cried, like every mom does, the day her and dad dropped me off at college that first day. i still have the card she left me that day, with the squirrel on the front. she was the mastermind behind my beautiful wedding cake. she still takes care of my cat. and i still go over to her's most weekends for dinner. this weekend is no exception.

forever and ever, i love you mom

story time

it's a rainy day, in fact a rainy week, for us up here in the northeast region of the states. and what better on a rainy day than a story? how about lots of stories?

fast fiction is a blog i discovered via 4 or 5 links from one blog to another. the author, kevin spenst, turns illustrations into bite-size stories like this one.

if you're not too busy, give him a visit. i recommend it.



in other news: have you heard? it's raining. my flowers like rain, so it's not a bad thing.

and in other other news: my boyo is headed to LAX right now, on his way home from E3 ^_^ this is very good news.

while you were missing

while you were missing i was missing you

dearly. my heart pounded heavier on afternoons
as the sun peeked through the fog

threatening to puncture the venetian blinds
in our out-dated kitchen.

i slumbered in the dent on the sofa
where you usually sit and play video games

where i nestle into your lap and watch
your hands flexing and maneuvering.

i slept diagonally in the bed

i tried to occupy two spaces, just for a few days.

the movies just make me miss more
that we never watch these kinds of movies
when you're around. you have better tastes.

i kept my phone in hand as often as possible

so when you chime for me i am in and on
and filling my ears with the sound of your voice

accent fading as i reply and we laugh together.

as happy for you as a wife could possibly be

she is still young.

if i were stronger then, but am grateful now
that i do not need strength to love you.

ryan's LA adventure update

he called me this morning from hollywood blvd. apparently the airport in las vegas has slot machines everywhere. ten rows of five as you step foot off the plane.

andrew (who we owe lots of gratitude for putting ryan up) picked him up at 1am last night and took him on a little tour--apparently the street from halloween that all the baby sitters lived on and the elm street are side by side.

so far i know he's played guitar hero two.

as for me... i wrote a poem on piloteye and am thinking of renting a movie tonight... any recommendations? or maybe i'll watch my sassy girl that michelle burnt up for me.

a last minute affair

i have just returned home from dropping ryan off at logan airport in boston. he's boarding his flight to L.A. right now. he's on his way to his first E3! we booked the flight a mere 4 hours before take off... never done that before.

ryan's planned trip to L.A. for the expo had been pushed back and back and then pretty much left out for the birds. fortunately though, mr Psaltos is the kind of fella who gets things done and gets them done quick. he told ryan to get on the plane and he'd get the business license and whatever else he needed to him for the next day.

so ryan's off. he's got two jam-packed days of game playing and interviewing ahead of him. his return flight gets in saturday evening. ah so, i am gonna go watch a movie and spend the next two evening hanging out with my mom ^_^

good luck ryan.

conditional

as if i had dreamt to the ends of this affair

what grew and fell in love with you

in every stirring detail

then wakes to feel the arm of a different man
wrapped around my chest like armor

nothing to do with the hole in my jeans:

the sun reached under the blinds of the opened window
and tickled our toes, the protruding digits of all four feet

the laundry basket to the left of the door is overflowing
with the past week's wears and 23 unmatched socks

his side of the bed is in military time and 10 minutes faster
than my 3-digit digital fm radio alarm clock with snooze

and the night stand is hiding under a library of love notes
that i leave one by one for him to have for breakfast each morning

hat trick

the fan flutters past the dumpster
over the standardized american suburb
and into the back of a blue pick-up truck

the kuala discovers the fan in the back of his truck
takes it apart screw for screw, panel for panel

and reassembles it to resemble a spinning flower
which he then positions in the center of a large field

where dairy cows feed on strawberries and grain

submissions continued

dear reader(s) please note: i have realigned my existence with that of my submissions page (the link lives permanently embedded in the bottom of my blog, way way way down there, all the way down, at the end). am starting to submit again, but even better, have started to receive rejection emails which i am posting in a lovely green colour. enjoy!

hit parade

i swung & missed

shoes on trees fillet the cod,
my bat - shredded - is the spatula

the charcoal is ready

& we 're trying new things
in the garden shed:

_____an intimate moment of accusations
_____tickle fits & lip smacks behind printed beach towels

it is almost time to give up
on socks altogether.

spring confessional

i get the hang of summer:
it's around a campfire - but
we're not camping
because this is our backyard.

i got too good at winter
we hold each others' hands
standing on the lawn
in our mismatched socks
and marshmallows stuck
in our hair.

the dog is chewing on future
fire wood.

new from bear parade

yesterday i was talking to myself by ellen kennedy

i haven't read it all yet; however, if the last two collections are any indication of the quality of this e-press then this collection is outstanding.

my mom has a blog!!

yep, momma bird's into the blog scene now! she's got a few pictures of the family furies up so far and am sure it'll get chaotic and entertaining ^_^ love you mommy!

http://dennybeeer.blogspot.com/

p.s. daniella bella has a blog as well, but she's keeping the url a secret until she's posted for a few days, gotten into the groove of the blogsphere. will update accordingly.

p.p.s. i found here... http://daydreamers-anonymous.blogspot.com/

free write poetry dribble

it's not as though the poems i post on here are ever final drafts, but they usually have some level of consideration inserted. i usually read them over a few times, at least spell check them, before putting them up. today, though, i am letting it all hang out... this is a free write, i will not go back and edit anything that comes flowing from my finger tips onto the keys. i may, yet, spell check. am not expecting anything to come of this, just usuing my blogs as a platform for the written equivalent of thinking-out-loud. enjoy!

numbered sixteen times the tape dispenser
my round about, i love you, so i kiss you
in strange places
the side of your torso or below you ear, above the neck
no specificity, erogenous random generator.
numbered twenty seven or my left hand wears
a titanium wedding band with three shiny rocks embedded
the blue stripe the blue stripe loves you for it.
the match strikes a pink flame, the kind of rain
that glistens on strands of dry hair
light and hardly wet enough to satiate the desert tongue.

rodent bath houses men on the left womenontheright
for the silver draft title waving pigeon races
we pack peanut butter and jelly sandwiches
with organic this and natural ingredients that
the bread is wheaty and my dad butters it with sugar
before applying the force of knife powered by wrist
at the edge of the counter top, foaming with trust.

these are the thoughts that stick like gum
to the back seat of my mind, the tree outside ford theatre
i don't even know if it's called that.

there you have it kiddies. i didn't even adjust the line breaks (i want to, but i won't). and yeah, i did spell check (i apparently, had no idea how to spell erogenous, until now).

jiggery pokery

have given my original template a complete overhaul. again. and though i love the buttons, am thinking i may do something a bit more uniform, or put together an entirely seperate links page.

that's enough for today though. am going to go read the kite runner.