happy chrimstas

decorating the tree (part 3)

the first part of the decorations to go on the tree was the bow at the top, preceded by the red string at the top of the tree and the hook on the ceiling--a preventative measure to keep the tree and the computer safe from one another at all times.



Rowdy helped with the lights.



a little garland goes a long way.



Jack helped us make this really long paper chain.



pretty lights... but missing something...



cards and presents add the final touches ^_^

kitties' first tree (part 2)

i don't suspect anyone will find the need for commentary here...

oh crimbo tree (part 1)

we went to Hyannis Garden Center after I called a few places who told me they didn't have any more trees left. This place had plenty and at all sorts of prices. We picked out a medium tree ^_^



Here's Liz and I walking into the store to pay for the tree. I was so happy to get one finally. We'd all been so busy with work and school and stitches and all sorts, we had to wait until the 18th to finally get the tree.



The tree didn't exactly fit in the car, but we made it home just fine.



Liz and I did all the tree putting up, which Ryan did exactly what I'd asked him to: take pictures of everything.



Liz loves the smell of pine, how cute ^_^



It took a little jiggery pockery...



... but we got the tree standing pretty straight in the end.

troubleshooting

to pin point the problem,
just let her cry.

hold her with big arms.
keep her warm and close

until the fire is drowned,
doused out with reason.

canadian pancakes

a fondly on the sofa, he
picked up at the airport

on his way home from the south.
so he chooses to catch her,

make her pancakes
while finishing the local brew

straight from the jug.

butter out, and syrup warming on the stove
along side the cooper bottomed pan

if he's going to make her breakfast
he's going to do it properly.




seduction is not an art,
it's a skill.

dear big little orange

dear big little orange cat,

two years old
and you still sleep

on my head at night,
slowly pushing

my head off the pillow
until i wake up, and reclaim it.

you've got a wet sniffer
and you're sneezing again

sleeping more because
of your kitty sized cold.

i am sick at home,
for the second day now

and i'm more inclined
to take you to the vet's

than i am
to take myself to the doctor's.

all my love, to my little bit orange monster,
get well soon

in a boy's room

we lie there naked under the blankets, but not touching

the ceiling is dark
except for the crack under the door

and the street light glow sneaking in
from under the curtains over the big window

i wish there was something to look at

i close my eyes so tight
that i can see colorful shapes

'will you tell me a story?' i ask

'what?' you must have been sleeping, you sound startled

'never mind' i say, and open my eyes again
and wait for the morning so i can leave

on "This Feels Like Normal"

step 1: get a free chapbook. 

step 2: read it over reheated ziti with marinara sauce. 

step 3: be grateful you're not still dating.



This Feels Like Normal is a little chappy by brandon scott gorrell, matthew savoca and colin bassett. it came in the mail this afternoon and i devoured the surprise poetry treat over lunch. i'd completely forgotten about the email i sent requesting a copy. 

unexpected poetry in the mail is always a delight.

even better, i liked it. i didn't love it, but i did like it.

brandon, matthew and colin are what i expect from boys who write poetry. boys who write poetry are analytical, self-defacing/praising, sad, unmetered and they make funny faces at the girls they love--girls they may or may not have told they love them.

there were moments, over coffee and fruit salad, where sincerity crept up out of the murky commentary on emotions as revealed through poems. the boys were center stage though. and the poetry proclaimed itself poetry despite any form or poetic tendencies to denote it, rather, distinguish it from angsty note-book scribbles or never-sent love-notes.

so the chap doesn't sound like it's done much really. but as i turned the last page, hoping for that "i love you too" to set me free, to love them poet-e-poet, there was no last page to turn to. i have been left wanting more. much like a girl might--a girl dating a boy poet.

i guess that's just what they do.

three out of three
get four out of five.

go google yourself

here i was, innocently at work in the writing center at umass dartmouth when one of the tutors beside me started to google herself and go on about it. i hadn't played the google-myself game in a little while, so i joined her.

only to find a mention of my work in an anthology i'd never heard of.

the link was to the loewak institutue, dating back to October 5th of this year.

i read, and followed the link to for godot where, after a little searching, i found myself giggling in the back of the center over the absurd array of sarcasm, wit, fury and disdain cluttering the comments section of this announcement.

the 4000 ish page anthology, free for download, can be retrieved from either of the two sites above; though, i reccommend you save it as a file, otherwise it takes an age to open.

my name is on page 299 under a little poem.

ashraf is on page 1450
craif perez is on page 2664

there are almost 4000 poets (most, i assume, with internet presence). some of your friends are probably listed in this massive anthology too.

and so? well, so, i didn't write that poem. ashraf didn't write the one he's been credited with. craig, i'm pretty sure, didn't write the one above his name either.

check out all the comments on for godot. this is beautiful controversy at work.

i can't wait for the next issue ^_^

genre heart ache

a brooding demi
takes well in small doses

to the breaking habbits
to the fickle measures

of a bored Canadian man
in a raised collar



she escapes the dimensions of her portrait
leaves the wall behind

-the frame and distances of light-

to betray your fantasy
the export of lust on a canvas built for two

love and religion

everyone is talking.



the gay rights issue at large right now is one i have no trouble taking a firm stance on - unlike many political issues wherein i don't know or understand the full scope of the issue. there isn't much to understand here: the right for same-sex couples to marry in the state of California has been rescinded. and the cause is even more audacious... what place does a church have in lobbying for a vote one way or the other? there's that good old saying "separation of church and state" composed by the men who fought to secure the human-rights of all men and women governed by this country. blah blah, you've heard all this already, i know.

it may be too late in the day for me to shake a moving passion from the bones in my fingers, but that's no reason not to make a small stand in favor for all of those who plan on attending peaceful protests on Saturday to defend the rights of their fellow men, women, straight and gay.

to think, that in one day, we as a country made so much progress. we elected a mixed-race president and a little town in Oregon elected the first trans-gendered mayor. and on that very same day, we as a nation reminded the world just how bigoted and backwards we can be with the several gay-marriage ban election questions. bans which people agree. it makes my stomach turn.

cnn is awesome

i just saw a hologram, a real one, on cnn during the election coverage. am very pleased. technology is cool. ^_^

to address

i want to address the absurdity
of a measurable pleasure

the length of your tongue
against the width of time

and what we use to cover it
when we're not active

in a winter worn room
stained mugs on dusty book jackets

follow the parade of mire
murk and muddle through literature

manuscripts a friend sent
in a big brown envelope

before a late birthday wish
to an artist in Manhattan

Muwi the Amazing Lawn Mower

i want one

crocodile in my lunch

bento boxes are insane



people with far too many spare minutes.

and too cute to eat.





flicker source

i thought this was cute

mccain and palin picture

waste not

and how.

MSN.com had an amazing article today... ten best ways to waste your time on the internet and some of them actually looked like checking out... (click on the images to go to the sites)

such as the failblog:



a website called "Stumble" which allows you to randomly discover (via stumbling) new and interesting sites you probably never would have heard of or seen before such as Iron Dog Studio's "Tater Titan":



and the third one i really liked was this... the spirograph amazingnessness. reminds me of this ridiculous spirographic pen thing i had when i was a kid. i remember using it to write letters to my cousin Molly oh so many years ago. the pen would spin by itself and draw these kinds of designs... spirograph here

wanting

for the want not more than a simple beauty
to life and a sweet love along the trim

the seams of birds flutter by the cat
humble on the window ledge

a pink cake and too few candles
with two friends whose families you don't know

redirect

since my blog isn't that interesting right now, check out Karl Pilkington's Blog

amazing. it's the only word.

satisfied fool - karl pilkington

part 1


part 2


part 3



if you don't know who Karl Pilkington is, I suggest you download some of the Ricky Gervais Podcast (there are old episodes floating around) or youtube the phrase "monkey news".

Karl is a funny man when paired with Ricky and Steven. in this little documentary though, he's somewhat pathetic and uncharacteristically likeable.

Drill, Drill, Drill

Eve Ensler, the American playwright, performer, feminist and activist best known for "The Vagina Monologues", wrote the following about Sarah Palin:

Drill, Drill, Drill

I am having Sarah Palin nightmares. I dreamt last night that she was a member of a club where they rode snowmobiles and wore the claws of drowned and starved polar bears around their necks. I have a particular thing for Polar Bears. Maybe it's their snowy whiteness or their bigness or the fact that they live in the arctic or that I have never seen one in person or touched one. Maybe it is the fact that they live so comfortably on ice. Whatever it is, I need the polar bears.

I don't like raging at women. I am a Feminist and have spent my life trying to build community, help empower women and stop violence against them. It is hard to write about Sarah Palin. This is why the Sarah Palin choice was all the more insidious and cynical. The people who made this choice count on the goodness and solidarity of Feminists.

But everything Sarah Palin believes in and practices is antithetical to Feminism which for me is part of one story -- connected to saving the earth, ending racism, empowering women, giving young girls options, opening our minds, deepening tolerance, and ending violence and war.

I believe that the McCain/Palin ticket is one of the most dangerous choices of my lifetime, and should this country chose those candidates the fall-out may be so great, the destruction so vast in so many areas that America may never recover. But what is equally disturbing is the impact that duo would have on the rest of the world. Unfortunately, this is not a joke. In my lifetime I have seen the clownish, the inept, the bizarre be elected to the presidency with regularity.

Sarah Palin does not believe in evolution. I take this as a metaphor. In her world and the world of Fundamentalists nothing changes or gets better or evolves. She does not believe in global warming. The melting of the arctic, the storms that are destroying our cities, the pollution and rise of cancers, are all part of God's plan. She is fighting to take the polar bears off the endangered species list. The earth, in Palin's view, is here to be taken and plundered. The wolves and the bears are here to be shot and plundered. The oil is here to be taken and plundered. Iraq is here to be taken and plundered. As she said herself of the Iraqi war, "It was a task from God."

Sarah Palin does not believe in abortion. She does not believe women who are raped and incested and ripped open against their will should have a right to determine whether they have their rapist's baby or not.

She obviously does not believe in sex education or birth control. I imagine her daughter was practicing abstinence and we know how many babies that makes.

Sarah Palin does not much believe in thinking. From what I gather she has tried to ban books from the library, has a tendency to dispense with people who think independently. She cannot tolerate an environment of ambiguity and difference. This is a woman who could and might very well be the next president of the United States. She would govern one of the most diverse populations on the earth.

Sarah believes in guns. She has her own custom Austrian hunting rifle. She has been known to kill 40 caribou at a clip. She has shot hundreds of wolves from the air.

Sarah believes in God. That is of course her right, her private right. But when God and Guns come together in the public sector, when war is declared in God's name, when the rights of women are denied in his name, that is the end of separation of church and state and the undoing of everything America has ever tried to be.

I write to my sisters. I write because I believe we hold this election in our hands. This vote is a vote that will determine the future not just of the U.S., but of the planet. It will determine whether we create policies to save the earth or make it forever uninhabitable for humans. It will determine whether we move towards dialogue and diplomacy in the world or whether we escalate violence through invasion, undermining and attack. It will determine whether we go for oil, strip mining, coal burning or invest our money in alternatives that will free us from dependency and destruction. It will determine if money gets spent on education and healthcare or whether we build more and more methods of killing. It will determine whether America is a free open tolerant society or a closed place of fear, fundamentalism and aggression.

If the Polar Bears don't move you to go and do everything in your power to get Obama elected then consider the chant that filled the hall after Palin spoke at the RNC, "Drill Drill Drill." I think of teeth when I think of drills. I think of rape. I think of destruction. I think of domination. I think of military exercises that force mindless repetition, emptying the brain of analysis, doubt, ambiguity or dissent. I think of pain.

Do we want a future of drilling? More holes in the ozone, in the floor of the sea, more holes in our thinking, in the trust between nations and peoples, more holes in the fabric of this precious thing we call life?

Eve Ensler September 5, 2008

decorative fruit

to challenge the patriotism of fruit flies
we play with the plastic of labor
on the day we closed the blinds
to avoid the sun

arranged in patterns then scattered
the flies flutter in the air above,
desperate for sweetness,
fooled by the shape and color of the ground

and we are at their most
the gods that pretend to love them
playing with creation and testing faith
or scientists desperate for entertainment

on a warm weekend in september
on the east coast of a large coffee table
where the fruit is rearranged every four years
with the intention of growing something real

on a wednesday in new england

i'm hearing things
violent cows mooing in the woods
and i can feel the big toe
on my left foot
creaking as i walk
nonchalant
in the opposite direction
from the disturbed bovine festival
between trees and bramble

foux da fa fa

Zombies Are Coming

be prepared.

a discovery

i could share the words and meanings
of every song in a dream

to

my love, my loves. lovers, my dreamers and wanderers.

amongst city blocks and foreign whispers
in culling and cooing accents

to a dance

to a cadence and a sculpted

episode, scripted to warrant all of our secrets.

new fruits

plucked from the watering hole
the light weight posture
of diversity and collage therapy
through mesh wire netting and fairy-tales

we sat silently watching
a movie play off dvd

egg shells

a tough outter skin
cracked and worn

with the fatigue
brought on by responsible

nature and throughful gestures
towards underserving wonderers

marching to a proverb
of inditerminant origin

in my sleep we dance
to the emptiness left

when all the sound
is in murmurs

super hero hair

hair hair hair hair hair

NEW HAIR!

strawberry giver

there's an american indian tale,
a story,

of a woman and a man who find themselves
in a heated argument one cold night.

the woman is so upset she leaves,
storming out of their small home

into the thick woods surrounding.
worried for her safety,

the man decides to follow his wife
into the woods.

he was unsure of where she'd gone
until he looked down and saw

small strawberry plants
in the shape of her feet.

where she'd stepped, a plant had grown.
so he followed the foot shaped plants

and found his wife,
cold and cowering in the woods.

he thanked the strawberry plants
and they vowed to fight no more.

they kept a strawberry plant
in their home at all times

to remind each other
of that horrible night.

and so, this particular tribe
of american indians

who believe this story
keep strawberry plants in their homes

to keep from fighting.

in my dream, i emerged
as a monster made of strawberry plants

i would hear yelling and arguing
i would follow the sounds

until i found the people shouting
and trade them a clump of my being

a small strawberry plant
in exchange for one of their valuables

i would ask them for something
that symbolized their love

i traded with every couple that fought
until i was made of jewelry,

photos and old appliances,
toys and tokens of gratitude.

i traded until i could,
before all the strawberries were gone.

teehee

a new world

it's little stories like this one that give me cause to reflect on the probability of human change. of growth.

twins of a different color

am reading

poetry at Diode

a Review of Origami Shipwreck

Review by Derek Motion at Galatea Resurrects

jolly oh.

on the corner of Cotuit and Pimlico Pond Road

eight twentysomethings walk
uncoupled and sober
around the corner towards the lake

where they discuss the likely hood
of leeches, seamonsters and cereal killers

it's 12am and windy, but the water is warm
and their feet find the slippery rocks
a worthy challenge against balance

their laghter can be heard across the lake
in the neighboring town

by two retired marines
fishing off the side of a dock
remembering what it was like

at twentysomething and single

in the Canterbury Plaza

four leaf clovers grow in excess
behind the local pizza place

two teenagers make out
in the back seat of an accord

as lightning strikes the light post
beside them

and the clovers are nourished
by another summer shower

on Great Neck Road

a young man falls in love
with the busty brown beauty

behind the farm stand

selling local fruits and vegetables
she touches your hand when she hands you your change

and cradles each vegetable
with the compassion of a mother

who watches her first born
ride away on a big yellow bus on the first day of school

the sound

as i changed out of my bathing suit upstairs
into dry clothes that soon turned wet in my haste to return
to the laughing crowd accumulated in my living room

i could hear the laughter and chaos of 8 wet bodies
shuffling in through one door
the cats scampering away, looking for a safe hiding place -

the sound of happiness and comfort.

reoccuring

the bandwidth of neighbors around
an illegal fire. baking in the hidden
life of a forest. seeking kin.

an anthem or march for disunity
for class structure and servitude.
we sing at different volumes. but we all sing.

in our own tents, pitched with pegs
of different metal make,
we consider ourselves resolute and beautiful.

like poets. writing about blossoms
and death, within the same clumsy stanza.

left out

she dreamt of meeting him
in a grocery store

debating over a tea choice
the perfect bag of chai

or a blend of green and white
leaves embedded in silk

a blend of two colors
in a bed of cotton and down

One Eyed Jack in a Box

on a level

the plain taste of gone
simmered in this humidity
leaves an idle wanderer
to learn how to french braid her own hair.

a quiet

for lizzy






some gentle purr and nuzzles from fur
orange and white and catered to by

an empty bottle cap and sweet sighs of affection.

replaced by the sentiment of cool metal.

yellow tape

easy going coupon processor
the way a boy can be just so

a desperate measure of attraction
through unsubtle manners

he is sing song in present tense
under the bath of nervous, sick and haunted

by her, who thrusts her need
across the counter top in waves and bubbles

sick to the scent where he was

hoola hoop score

1,853

just unlocked 10min duration time. not sure i'm up for that just yet.

an ode to two 17 year cicadas

you flew into my car

i thought you were a bird

cicada a, chip chirping away
in the back seat of my malibu

cicada b, catching the breeze
you strode up my arm, ambitious

i took you both to starbucks, even though
you don't like coffee

the swan at 45

today, i helped a swan find water from the road.

as i was driving home from the grocery store, just slowing down to turn into my road, there was a swan. it was waddling down the middle of the road as if it too were a car.

lots of people were swerving and honking, all avoiding hitting the swan.

i unloaded a few goods that need refrigerating then called animal control. they sent someone down and three of us coerced the savvy bird towards the lake across the street.

if you're ever trying to get a swan to move, approach it with a couple of trash can lids to make yourself look a lot bigger. that swan will move.

unnecessary cupcake

for my wife

little and parasol adorned
the mop swept checkered floor reflecting
feelings and fat cells

tingle to the pink on a burnt belly
and the melting, rising to the temperature
of early summer in a little shop

on a small sunday afternoon with company
of four around a french table
with wire-knit chairs

the spray painted white sticking
to bear legs sticking out of skirts
and tongues minted in sweet, patient molecules of cake

hoola hoop score

773 and rising.

Ryan's Lemon Dogs

Back Story:
you know how carnivals and fairs have lots of junk food stands? and they usually have really big banners listing all the things they sell? for example, ryan, ashraf and i were at a book fair in Philly a couple weekends ago and there was a food stand with two signs, one on top of the other, which read "Lemonade" and "Hotdogs".

now, imagine you're ryan and your brain makes games of taking things too literally. "Mmmn, lemonade hotdogs!" then ryan continued by musing out loud about how a lemonade hotdog would actually taste.

and so, as we walked to fogo de chao to meet don and elanine, ryan and i worked out the ingredients for lemonade hotdogs, or what i now call Ryan's Lemon Dogs.


Recipe:
you will need the following items to make your own Lemon Dogs...

-hotdogs (all beef franks by boars head are the bestest)
-lemonade (something simple, made with real sugar and as few additives as possible)
-soft hotdog rolls (or hoggie rolls of bread, or whatever you like to put your dogs in)
-a sweet vidalia onion
-swiss cheese (ryan and i go for the real stuff, know in most grocery stores as Emmental (imported from Switzerland))



use a fork to poke lots of little holes in your hotdogs then marinate in the lemonade for at least half an hour. the more holes, the better.

after marinating, cook the hotdogs as desired (we broiled ours in the toaster oven, but outdoor grills are the best, i think)

while the hotdogs are cooking, brown the chopped onion in a skillet (we used cast iron, tastes nicest). once onions are cooked, add slices of Swiss cheese to skillet. cook until cheese melts and you are left with a yummy gooey cheese sauce.

place sauce-e-goodness on roll and place the cooked hotdog ontop.

enjoy!

Taste?
surprisingly delicious. i had trouble tasting the lemonade flavor at first because i was also drinking lemonade with my hotdog. there were definitely moments, though, when my hotdog suddenly tasted extra sweet and tangy. we're thinking, next time, more pokes with the fork and longer marinade time. ^_^

wii fit

so, got wii fit, to get fit. started yesterday afternoon, continued this morning. so far the following parts of my body ache like never before: everything between my upper arms (shoulders included) down to my knees. did you know there are muscles in the side of your stomach? *itaaaaaiiii!!!*

wii fit is wii fun and i am actually looking forward to playing agian tomorrow! more updates to come.

wii-mote cocktail

promise #18

a bike ride on the sea, through the streets of
your Beirut

the humid spring air is scented with orange blossoms

it reminds me of the perfume you wear
and the box of precious teas you sent
on valentine's day

if only the mud on the tires didn't cake
and force us to stop
to rebuild

(thinking of the family)

two

inanimate eyes locked
in the purge of lust

two poets, behind masks
return to form together

they are bound

the waltz

the waltz was invented yesterday
by two Japanese mechanics in a speaker box

with lock clock punch cards
and times in all three strands
of season and affair

the women they loved wore fans and feathers
like birds fit for stage and tragedy

we love the men that make us and break them
over our knees like children
with the will of our eyelashes

panda tales

||
||
||
||

||
||
||
||

||
||
||




the panda bear sings

sink tactic bamboo
thatched on the backs
of rice patty clouds

scolded in the shape
of Buddha and pests alike

no beads to speak of
and no bread to chew on
but leaves and leftovers

for dinner with the president
of Alpha Centauri or Russia

where the elephants are mighty
in art and masters of ceremony

the panda bear dances

tree story

a sun beats down
on the sorry brow
of a young boy
trapped inside
the body of a tree

five hundred years old
and twisted
with toes and thorns
and knots that beget
all real pain and grief

his heart beats
pumping veins of water
to ill branches
and dying leaves

but in his purgatory
he sees the world
as a king upon a kingdom
in all of its brilliance
and all of its turmoil
and beauty

and wonder.

promise #17

today, the first of may,
i work on self identity and imagination

for the balance of realism in music
and the poetry of scrap metal robots

working to dispense the electricity and character
a replica of love--their hearts made

out of recycled foam cups, shaped
in the shadow of young men with long hair

and plastic guitars strapped over their shoulders
super stars in their living rooms

while i think about planting more bulbs
in the front garden come september

exchange

the toothpicks are all wearing party hats
your cheeks are pink with drunkenness

the dim light suits you, when you smile
against the music in my direction

hair in your eyes and sand in your shoes
separating into the carpet fibers

from that kiss on the dune
with that other girl--blond, tall and beautiful--

that i watched from someone else's car
his hand on my the jeans hugging my thighs

summer is almost here for exchange
of goods and our partners' tent beds

creepy looking dude with awesome voice seeks listening audience

first, a little something live:


this is my fav song of theirs, possibly because it was the first one i heard.




there's a bit of a lynchian feel to some of these videos. i'd love to see what david could do for a nick cave and the bad seeds song if he directed a video for them.

the poetry reading at gallery x

at the poetry reading at gallery x
in downtown new bedford
to hear neeli cherkovski talk
about his friend, charles bukowski,
i stared at jose's hair the whole time

i didn't know his name was jose
until john landry asked him to get up and read
and he read a poem from temper
with a thick accent, in a white t-shirt
that read P.E.Z. on the front

his hair looks best from the back
but it didn't look that bad from the front either
black, straight locks the flaired out
at the ends between deltoids
or whatever you call the muscles that rest on shoulder blades

promise #16

to smile whenever you bring my cut flowers

filling the empty space on the island
in the kitchen

with joy and forgivness

and other warm feelings that come with this
kind of love we share

for karl

promise #15

not to drown you out
when my the beat between my thoughts
crescendos

into the back of the room
where Dead Bird's ghost dances

and sings

into the night, dark and unwelcome

not to drown in your voice
like the dependant child i crave to become

wrapped in strong arms and warm
with memories of love

promise #14

to stop putting sugar in my black pearl tea

humming the infusion of silk
and hot water in boiled ceramic

the therapy we speak of, with chocolate and dill,
sweet mysteries, our bellies

that sing us to sleep and dream
of far away sea shores and bicycle spokes.

promise #13

my addiction to
your chaos

if i could not see, nor dream

the fourth dimension folding upon itself
like our blanket in the moments after

we make sense of it together
the math of infinity and the

weight of anti-matter

you wait and i trouble through
in the dark, towards you, at the speed
of your sound
flickering off the unpainted walls

i promise, i love you

Dear BBC

First, make Plush Figures of these little fatties:



Then, send 12 of them to my house.

Please and Thank you,
Katy

promise #12

longer poems will come later

promise #11

the papers will not read themselves

a list of things you're allowed to put in meatloaf according to John Landry

for john landry, poet laureate of new bedford

bread crumbs
plain oatmeal
chicken noodle soup
marinara sauce

promise #10

for michelle

if i get one, you can borrow it.

promise #9

your messages on the bathroom stall door

saved a life

destroyed a relationship

and helped someone on a biology exam

-thank you.

promise #8

the market share
for your simple idea
will increase with testing

performed by Germans in laser-protective goggles
on the shores of two landlocked countries

promise #7

i promise not to stare
at the new way

you think about

promise #6

the affection of a feline
is manifest on the pillow

when he wants to be fed his morning milk

promise #5

that every time you apologize
you mean it

that every time you hold me
you want to

that every time i need you
you'll be there

i know you will.

promise #4

in the middle of the day
as you drift
in and out of every corner of your small office
with too much space
for other people

he will come
all smiles and with
a gift in a paper bag
where a paper napkin absorbs the grease
from a sweet cake he bought you

at a deli with a name
you can't pronounce

i want one!

promise #3

someday, on a fishing trip
you will catch a fish so large
that when you tell people how big it was
without lying
they still won't believe you

because no one tells the truth
about fish

except you

promise #2

someday your horoscope
will be true.

promise #1

someday, how
allen ginsberg will turn around
and spit in the other direction

save the muffin bottom for you, when
at the invitation
to the birthday party for someone you don't know

don't forget to bring a card.

"candy is not supposed to make you sadder"

nataliedee.com

i totally agree. and someday i will write a poem about how sad bad candy can make a person.

naps are awesome

especially when you're supposed to be doing something else. something useful. like cleaning the laundry.

^_^

my first dread central review

i helped bring poetry to the horror community by reviewing Let's Just Agree to be Gay".

i'm surprisingly proud of the fact that my name graces a dread central page beyond a photo caption.

though, be warned, this isn't for the faint of gut.

a more perfect union

this is a long video, a long speech. but one worth sitting down for all 39 minutes of and listening to with as much attention as you can devote.

nine am

underwhelmed by the grayscale of morning
and the thin veil of sugared fruits for taste

Asking for your Support

Dear Family and Friends,

I've decided to take action against cancer by participating
in my local American Cancer Society Relay For Life® event.
Relay For Life® is about celebration, remembrance, and hope. By
participating, I am honoring cancer survivors, paying tribute to the
lives we've lost to the disease, and raising money to help fight it.

Please help support me in this important cause by making a donation.
It is faster and easier than ever to support me by making a secure,
tax-deductible donation online using the link below. If you would
prefer, you can send your contribution to the mailing address listed
below.

Whatever you can give will help - it all adds up! I greatly appreciate
your support and will keep you posted on my progress.

Sincerely,

Katherine
Acheson

To make a donation online, visit my personal page

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RelayForLifeNewEnglandDivision?px=5274004&pg=personal&fr_id=7227

.

Double Your Money
Many employers offer matching funds programs. For example, if you gave
a $50 donation it could turn into $100. Please inquire with your
personnel/HR department to complete the paperwork required to get your
gift matched. Visit our Matching Gifts page.
http://www.matchinggifts.com/acs/

American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network
You have the opportunity to fight back against cancer year round by
joining the American Cancer Society Cancer Action Network. For a
donation of $10, you will become a part of a growing organization
dedicated to eliminating cancer as a major public health problem.
Through issue campaigns and voter education, ACS CAN works to
encourage lawmakers and candidates to support laws and policies that
will help people fight cancer. You CAN take action. We CAN save lives.
Join CAN today, at acscan.org.

https://secure3.convio.net/acscan/site/Donation2?idb=744320452&df_id=1220&1220.donation=form1
Mosaic Of Hope
You can also memorialize your loved one by creating a Mosaic Of
Hope. Visit the American Cancer Society Mosaic Of Hope web site to
build your own memorial site dedicated to your loved one.
http://www.cancer.org/docroot/DON/DON_2_Mosaic_of_Memories.asp?from=RFLFooter

in Tejas for the weekend

AT FEAR FEST