Saturday, August 28, 2010

our princess is in another castle

for matt

the princess you are looking for
is in another castle, sir.

oh, don't believe me do you?
just think about it for a minute...

would we keep a princess
in a big dump like this?

the walls are crawling
with owl-faced limpets

and the rooms are as cold
and smelly as a yeit's armpit.

do you really think a princess
would live in a place like this?

Friday, August 27, 2010

chocolate chocolate macarons


seashells on a mountain

a poem for adelaide

we were bigger then
staring down at the world

served millionairs' bars
and hot milky tea for breakfast

by long legged brunets
in ruffled uniforms and heels

speculating the odds
of one terrorist related to another

holding back laughter
at unhappy weddings

and spitting out seeds
at the local merchants' stands

all the while taking for granted
our uniquely granted positions

angels abreast mountain tops
turned to rocks and dust and coral

the ending of the page

a poem for brian

everyone knows that the page is flat
and if you go too far, you'll fall right off

but they've invented endless scrolling now
so photo bloggers can let go and go and go

those reckless bitches

Thursday, August 26, 2010

i did steal this line from a book so

for michelle

Part 1: Corpse Lasagna

the recipe calls
for unicorn hooves

and octopus suckers
baked at 350 for half an hour

Part 2: Miraculous Infinite Accidents

i burned my wrists
on the oven door

which is why i dropped the whole tray
of mythical creature corpse lasagna

so we're having bread
and salad for dinner

Part 3: How Do You Explain the Dead Unicorns

i didn't know what else
to do with the bodies

the recipe only called
for the hooves

Runner Up: No One Ever Explained the Octopuses
you act as though
you've never seen one before

i like cheese

for johnny

Barry the beast of Brighton beach
met a sweet babe named Cheeky Cheddar

and they started dating and making plans
but it all went sour when Cheddar discovered

that Barry the beast of Brighton beach
was wanton with a Wenslydale behind her wedge

then things got much worse when she then found out
that Barry was going steady with a Stilton every Sunday

and for an excuse all Barry could say
to his extra sharp lover

when she called him out
on all his whey-ward love affairs

was "i can't help it honey,
i like cheese"

aardvark sleeves and the virulent bees

for scott

in the land of tragic coagulations
where reboots pumble the innocent

there lived a wise old sleeve
wide at the wrist and elegant

it was carved out of the finest hairs
off of an aardvark's soft underbelly

and gently it spoke of horrible futures
for the flying ants of casablanca minor

but another prophecy worries us today
that of the mystical bees of yore

the legendary sleeve once waved it so
that all bees might one day unite

to form a giant mechanical beast
and ravage the native lands of the east

we have heard from the news bots
that this proof has come to pass

but no harm will come to the owls
or the turtles of beagle island

because our top scientists
wear sweet designer lab coats

and solved the puzzle of wading in the ocean
without getting wet up to the knees

desire for change

a poem for angela

the alarm sounds at 5:45am
she needs to leave the house by 6:45
to beat the heavy morning traffic

it takes 23 seconds to pull a sweater
over her head and push her arms through
and 16 seconds to take it off

there are not enough sweaters
in her walk in closet
to make her late for work

but once she finds the right sweater
she has to match the rest of the outfit
and that could take all morning

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

beguiling sea beast with spoon of lipids lost in tanzania

a poem for Dan

they're called beguiling sea beasts
because there are no seas in tanzania

but we have no idea where they got the spoons
or what poor animal the spoonfuls of fat are from

lenses without caps

a poem for jason

so what you're saying, said the man in the overalls,
is that no matter what size cap i buy, it can be fitted to my dome?

the man behind the counter concurred
that every hat could be adjusted to fit perfectly on any person's head.

so what you mean is that if i wanted to buy, he said, say
this cowboy hat with the blue stitches that you could fit it to my head?

the man behind the counter concurred
that every hat could be adjusted to fit perfectly on the man's head.

the man in overalls told the man behind the counter
that he would like to purchase a hat, if it could in fact be fitted to his head.

the man behind the counter concurred
that any hat could be fitted. 

it would take two business days.

cheers to 6 great years

Snoqualmie Falls, WA
where Ryan and I went on our honeymoon in 2004

melody over madness

a poem for tara

we're a new breed of weed croppers
cutting our edges on dull days

and filing away cherry pits
by weight rather than color

drooling in our sleep
we're like cats with bad teeth

and miracle grow only seeds
our ambition to dance

singing melodies of chaos
over the fire in our lungs

a field filled with wonder
or the madness of summer

here thar be splinters

a poem for JM

under the deck,
thar be splinters there.

inside an old boat,
thar be splinters there.

on an old picnic table,
thar be splinters there.

on the floor of a factory,
thar be splinters there.

inside flower boxes and window ledges,
thar be splinters there.

between book shelves painted or not,
thar be splinters there.

in a carpenter's shop,
thar be splinters there for sure.

and in my poor heart,
here thar be splinters too.

40 sheets, if you please

for liz

at the port of pirates
big and burly

sailors come and go
with the tide

dropping booty on booze
and burgers and babes

but not all are out
for a quick romp, you see

and not all are
so brutal, so manly or unshaven

some pirates are nice,
polite little men

who say please
and thank you

when picking up
their dry cleaning

but alas, those are rare,
the pirates who care

about fresh linens
and clean shower curtains

so keep your ears open
the next time you're there

for a little pirate fella
asking, "40 sheets, if you please"

and buy him a pint
of a low calorie beer

chafing on a sunday

for ryan

saturday nights are sexy,
but sunday morningss can be rough.

i forgot my umbrella

for jenni

ellie the elephant left for work
at seven am on wednesday morning

waterproof wellies covered each toe
and a pretty hat reached over each ear

she was protected from the rain
from top to bottom in fashionable wares

but unlike the saying, elephants can forget
even the most essential rainy day accessories

zombie dinner party

a poem for maggie

the chef waded in to the dining room
and the smell of garlic suffocated the guests

he came out of the kitchen to address a complaint
from the swarm of guests awaiting their meals

black ties, pumps and stunning gems, unimpressed
by the perfumes disguising the scent of the meat.

they all wanted their meat raw and undressed
but the chef insisted in his gourmet standards

so the guests all agreed, right then and there,
that the main course should change

from made by the chef, to made of the chef.

Monday, August 23, 2010


i have been completely without poetic ponderings for a few weeks now.  but i still try.

Monday, August 16, 2010

Ryan's book is complete and FOR SALE!

my husband, Ryan, has been working hard and pouring his heart into his first big writing project since 2005.  his collection of short stories, named Tropes, is available for sale on  pick up a copy today for less than $20 (i'm including the shipping here), and let us know what you think of it!

ryan is really interested in knowing which stories people like, and which ones they don't.  there's an email address in the book.  please, we encourage you to buy, read, and respond.  i mean, how many times do we get the chance (outside of blogs) to give significant feedback to an author or artists and know that he or she will actually read our replies and take them into consideration while working on his or her next project?  especially someone we don't now personally.  Tropes is a dialogue between writer and reader as much as any blog space we can provide.

looks at perfect

our lives are perfect, you say.
then why do we cry at night?

the girl that will become

i am straining my voice
to be heard

i am the voice of my generation

i am going to be famous
i just haven't chosen my medium yet