es, that is in the future, but sometimes the future is now, and I’m showing Katy some of the great features Word 2007 is going to bring, including, unsurprisingly, the ability to write your blog posts directly in word, and upload them in one or two quick clicks.
Friday, June 02, 2006
Thursday, June 01, 2006
the we could
we could think horrible thoughts together
tucked under the covers of a stranger's bed
touching parts in the dark, underestimating
the lure of breaking points and bending rules
our tangled feet in adjective rigmaroles
for all the world to wake up to on sunday
through stained glass window pains
in arch ways worthy of divinations and rituals
spear-wielding cherubs in new formula pampers
ring our wrists in a game they call 'rose garden'
and your right ear starts bleeding
from two of my eight teeth marks
tucked under the covers of a stranger's bed
touching parts in the dark, underestimating
the lure of breaking points and bending rules
our tangled feet in adjective rigmaroles
for all the world to wake up to on sunday
through stained glass window pains
in arch ways worthy of divinations and rituals
spear-wielding cherubs in new formula pampers
ring our wrists in a game they call 'rose garden'
and your right ear starts bleeding
from two of my eight teeth marks
yasmin rising
a siren of a poetess
emerges from the depths
beyond the mighty ocean
of men and boys
stirring above them
and their clever poetics
we have been discovered
now we discover her
emerges from the depths
beyond the mighty ocean
of men and boys
stirring above them
and their clever poetics
we have been discovered
now we discover her
ryan had a dream and...
...in the dream, another black and white cat was messing with Max and you chased him outside into the garden. You thought you saw another cat hiding in the bushes and pulled it out and it was a baby bear, and you got really scared because mommy bears get you when you mess with the baby bear, and there was this old lady and this child hid under a blanket afraid of the baby bear too, so you led them off home.
katy: can i put your dream on my blog?
ryan: Of course you may.
i only wish i could take responsibility for this little masterpiece. i suppose, at least, i was inspiration ^_^
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
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)
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.
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
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).
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).
Monday, May 29, 2006
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
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
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
Thursday, May 25, 2006
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
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.
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.
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!?
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 24, 2006
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
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
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.]
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
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?
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.
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.
Monday, May 22, 2006
=^_^= 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
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
Sunday, May 21, 2006
the troll
she let the guilt compound in her chest
like water buffaloswarming 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
like water buffalo
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
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
and so, please direct your attention to crunchy weta's
Robot Rendering at PKD
Saturday, May 20, 2006
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
...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
Friday, May 19, 2006
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.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
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
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.
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]
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...
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
Wednesday, May 17, 2006
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 $$ on top!)
how is that not fantastic?
asides (in techno-colour):
got another rejection email from a zine (can be found on the submissions page, scroll all the way down to the bottom and press the button, you like it).
"New Super Mario Brothers" for the DS is AWESOME!!!
am listening to majida al-roumi because she's beautiful
am reading "Only Human" by gareth roberts (the official dr who novel) and loving it
and if you want to know the weather where i am: happy, sunny, windy, partly birdy skies.
so i am officially enrolled in the master's program as soon as i send them this little grey card to confirm that i'll be attending in the fall.
now, for the plus part!! i have been "awarded" a teaching assistantship!! (which means a two-semester tuition waiver and some extra $$ 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.
Sunday, May 14, 2006
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
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
Saturday, May 13, 2006
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.
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.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
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.
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 10, 2006
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.
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
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
Tuesday, May 09, 2006
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
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
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
Monday, May 08, 2006
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!
Sunday, May 07, 2006
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.
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.
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.
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.
Friday, May 05, 2006
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/
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/
Wednesday, May 03, 2006
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).
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
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.
that's enough for today though. am going to go read the kite runner.
Sunday, April 30, 2006
silk
still breath across the vastness of some sugar-moss coated green river running past the inner eye of a man. hanuches spanning the blank expressions his neglected reflect. she wonders where the advantage lies. while feet of bears pace the composition of euphony and tragedy remarkable. the reunion was sprinting. she understood better. like tree bark his lips curled as he bled. mother's rug. the silken skin of a man in winter.
finale
the protest rests
at my finger tips;
dry, cracking skin
condition - spreading
across my grip.
making something
out of nothing;
the dry skin of
one finger.
at my finger tips;
dry, cracking skin
condition - spreading
across my grip.
making something
out of nothing;
the dry skin of
one finger.
Saturday, April 29, 2006
=^_^= kitty news alert =^_^=
dear readers and friends,
i would like to introduce you to the newest member of the acheson clan. his name is The Mighty Jagrafess of the Holy Hadrojassic Maxarodenfoe, but we call him Max. we've just returned home from meeting him; we can't bring him home for another 4 or 5 weeks, as he's still a wee little critter. nevertheless, i thought you might like to meet him and get to know him. he will no doubt start appearing in my poetry (as cats have a cunning way of manipulting the human mind).
p.s. sorry the pics are a little dark and fuzzy, we didn't want to upset his mightyness with the flash. his itty bitty kitten like eyes might have been hurt. (he's mighty, but he's still a baby!)
Friday, April 28, 2006
the misguided ramblings of
am not one to go off on long tangential outbursts on my blog (i reserve that behavior for my emails to ashraf mostly). though, on occasion i feel the need (excuse me, the urge) to do so. so am.
in any case, this is my blog and i'll do whatever i please. this has never been a poetry-only blog and will never become one. in part because i don't *just* write poetry. i also write long-winded useless prose about doctor who (wherein i lose just about anyone i write to about it, except ryan who loses me instead).
for all of you who did not follow the doctor who link in my previous not-a-poem post probably never will. you defiantly won't if you read michelle's comment about having assigned months worth of reading. so here i present to you and as-short-as-you're-ever-gonna-get-it version of the answer to "what is doctor who?":
doctor who is a british tv show staring a time and space traveling time lord (alien) who refers to himself as "the doctor" (hence the show's name) whose space ship looks like a 1950's british police box known to the knowing as the TARDIS. he travels with one, two and sometimes even three 'companions' who help him on his journeys through time and space saving this world or the other from universal evils.
now, why is doctor who so important? because it's very first episode was meant to air on november 22nd 1963. recognize the date? it's the day jfk was assassinated. the show was postponed one week. yes, you heard me right. doctor who is 43 years old!! the longest running tv show in the history of all history.
how'd they manage that, then? actors get old and rot and die like normal people, don't they? yes, but here's the key element to the show... it's SCIENCE FICTION. meaning, the doctor is an alien who can be and is played by all of 10 different actors to date (william h, patrick t, john p, tom b, peter d, colin b, sly m, paul m, chris e, and now david t).
interested in catching up on all the doctor and friends have to offer? borders seem to have the biggest selection of dvds, but be warned, it'll take you approximately 43 years to catch up on the episodes/adventures aired on tv. then there are the radio-plays, novelizations and picture-adventures (like comics but with real slides of the characters from lost adventures)... and guess what? there's a spin-off show now too! [personal aside: (i can't believe the guy from shark attach 3 has his own tv show)]
since the new series of doctor who aired in the spring of 2005, ryan and i have been watching the new series like it's our religion (staying in saturday nights for 13 weeks in a row in hopes that our diety (the internet) will be all giving and moving in order for us to watch the show as soon as electronically possible) meanwhile watching countless episodes/adventures of the old series. as of yet, i have only seen all the adventures of only 3 of the 10 doctors (including paul who played the doctor in the bbc american made-for-tv movie).
all that, just in case you were wondering, is what i am doing with my life at the moment. in very exciting news that you won't give two hoots about; I GET TO MEET SARGENT BENTON!!!!! and if i get the nerve up enough, am totally going to ask him to dance with me at the ball ^_^ (that's right, doctor who convention and a ball. because doctor who fans know how to do it up, mo fo.
onto my next topic. the other thing i am doing with my life is eating ice cream. no, not like, excessively. with the spring on cape cod, with the daffodils blossoming on the edge of every windy road, also comes the opening of ice cream parlors. ryan and my favorite place to stop in and get a scoop is called the polar cave. why it is our favorite: 1. the ice cream is from bliss dairy which use lots and lots of cream in their ice cream which makes it extra delicious 2. they make waffle cones to order 3. mark, the owner and patron, is a brit 4. his daughter kelsey is like 8 and runs the register 5. it's overall just an adorable and pink happy place. am secretly (it's not a secret any more is it?) hoping that we'll be going there this weekend at some point (ryan?).
and in order to work off all that ice cream, i have started running/jogging/walkingwithalimbbecausethere'sastitchinmysidefrom-tryinglikeafooltorunupareallysteephill again. have been hauling buns for 30 to 45 minutes the past two days, hopefully i can keep it up. while hauling (let's just call it that, because it sounds like a lot of work, which it is when you've been a doctor who flavored coach potato for the past 8 months) i've been listening to ryan's psp which hosts an array of david bowie, blonie, andrew w.k., and other misc music. have discovered today that my absolute favorite david bowie song is miracle goodnight (which i would link here but don't have the energy or know-how, as in, i am not that clever so ask me and i will email it to you or something). this is the epitomy of david bowie as a sex god. he oozes sensual maturity, wisdom, provocative playfulness, oh, how i could go on and on...
but think that, actually, i have gone on way too much as it is.
consider this though, i haven't even told you about animal crossing, the tulips blooming in my front yard, roco loco... maybe next time ^_-
in any case, this is my blog and i'll do whatever i please. this has never been a poetry-only blog and will never become one. in part because i don't *just* write poetry. i also write long-winded useless prose about doctor who (wherein i lose just about anyone i write to about it, except ryan who loses me instead).
for all of you who did not follow the doctor who link in my previous not-a-poem post probably never will. you defiantly won't if you read michelle's comment about having assigned months worth of reading. so here i present to you and as-short-as-you're-ever-gonna-get-it version of the answer to "what is doctor who?":
doctor who is a british tv show staring a time and space traveling time lord (alien) who refers to himself as "the doctor" (hence the show's name) whose space ship looks like a 1950's british police box known to the knowing as the TARDIS. he travels with one, two and sometimes even three 'companions' who help him on his journeys through time and space saving this world or the other from universal evils.
now, why is doctor who so important? because it's very first episode was meant to air on november 22nd 1963. recognize the date? it's the day jfk was assassinated. the show was postponed one week. yes, you heard me right. doctor who is 43 years old!! the longest running tv show in the history of all history.
how'd they manage that, then? actors get old and rot and die like normal people, don't they? yes, but here's the key element to the show... it's SCIENCE FICTION. meaning, the doctor is an alien who can be and is played by all of 10 different actors to date (william h, patrick t, john p, tom b, peter d, colin b, sly m, paul m, chris e, and now david t).
interested in catching up on all the doctor and friends have to offer? borders seem to have the biggest selection of dvds, but be warned, it'll take you approximately 43 years to catch up on the episodes/adventures aired on tv. then there are the radio-plays, novelizations and picture-adventures (like comics but with real slides of the characters from lost adventures)... and guess what? there's a spin-off show now too! [personal aside: (i can't believe the guy from shark attach 3 has his own tv show)]
since the new series of doctor who aired in the spring of 2005, ryan and i have been watching the new series like it's our religion (staying in saturday nights for 13 weeks in a row in hopes that our diety (the internet) will be all giving and moving in order for us to watch the show as soon as electronically possible) meanwhile watching countless episodes/adventures of the old series. as of yet, i have only seen all the adventures of only 3 of the 10 doctors (including paul who played the doctor in the bbc american made-for-tv movie).
all that, just in case you were wondering, is what i am doing with my life at the moment. in very exciting news that you won't give two hoots about; I GET TO MEET SARGENT BENTON!!!!! and if i get the nerve up enough, am totally going to ask him to dance with me at the ball ^_^ (that's right, doctor who convention and a ball. because doctor who fans know how to do it up, mo fo.
onto my next topic. the other thing i am doing with my life is eating ice cream. no, not like, excessively. with the spring on cape cod, with the daffodils blossoming on the edge of every windy road, also comes the opening of ice cream parlors. ryan and my favorite place to stop in and get a scoop is called the polar cave. why it is our favorite: 1. the ice cream is from bliss dairy which use lots and lots of cream in their ice cream which makes it extra delicious 2. they make waffle cones to order 3. mark, the owner and patron, is a brit 4. his daughter kelsey is like 8 and runs the register 5. it's overall just an adorable and pink happy place. am secretly (it's not a secret any more is it?) hoping that we'll be going there this weekend at some point (ryan?).
and in order to work off all that ice cream, i have started running/jogging/walkingwithalimbbecausethere'sastitchinmysidefrom-tryinglikeafooltorunupareallysteephill again. have been hauling buns for 30 to 45 minutes the past two days, hopefully i can keep it up. while hauling (let's just call it that, because it sounds like a lot of work, which it is when you've been a doctor who flavored coach potato for the past 8 months) i've been listening to ryan's psp which hosts an array of david bowie, blonie, andrew w.k., and other misc music. have discovered today that my absolute favorite david bowie song is miracle goodnight (which i would link here but don't have the energy or know-how, as in, i am not that clever so ask me and i will email it to you or something). this is the epitomy of david bowie as a sex god. he oozes sensual maturity, wisdom, provocative playfulness, oh, how i could go on and on...
but think that, actually, i have gone on way too much as it is.
consider this though, i haven't even told you about animal crossing, the tulips blooming in my front yard, roco loco... maybe next time ^_-
Thursday, April 27, 2006
the 21st apocalypse
all the department stores have shut
on account of the emergency
the trash collectors are on strike
residents are fleeing their homes
like mice from sinking cruise liners
the clouds are turning black in the dim sky
ants are scurrying in mobs without order
and birds are flying in odd letter formations
(i saw a flock of sparrows flying in a G)
the chaos and tumult of a modern-day apocalypse
the end of the world
because someone has mistreated
their toaster for the last time
brought to you by machines with feelings
on account of the emergency
the trash collectors are on strike
residents are fleeing their homes
like mice from sinking cruise liners
the clouds are turning black in the dim sky
ants are scurrying in mobs without order
and birds are flying in odd letter formations
(i saw a flock of sparrows flying in a G)
the chaos and tumult of a modern-day apocalypse
the end of the world
because someone has mistreated
their toaster for the last time
brought to you by machines with feelings
the life of tammy
tammy started wearing nail polish when she was 4. her mom bought her a bottle of revlon at the local pharmacy; the one on belmont and river. she painted her own toes, let her mom do her fingers. she used the entire bottle by her 5th birthday. she asked for more colors, asked for glitter, asked for cotton balls and remover. a beautician was born.
tammy got her first purse when she was 7. she saw it at toys'r'us in the barbie isle. pink with a bright blue-and-yellow flower; glittery plastic. every girl's dream. she'd gone there herself, to get out of the rain, waiting until her mom go off work from the ihop across the lot. without any money, but with enough motivation. a thief was born. the bag stayed in her locker at school until school got out for the year. she told her mom a friend lent it to her for the summer.
more on the life of tammy later.
tammy got her first purse when she was 7. she saw it at toys'r'us in the barbie isle. pink with a bright blue-and-yellow flower; glittery plastic. every girl's dream. she'd gone there herself, to get out of the rain, waiting until her mom go off work from the ihop across the lot. without any money, but with enough motivation. a thief was born. the bag stayed in her locker at school until school got out for the year. she told her mom a friend lent it to her for the summer.
more on the life of tammy later.
Wednesday, April 26, 2006
am hoping to, one day, be the proud owner of this stupidly cool watch. i will keep you updated on the progress of this goal as it unfolds.
in the mean time, am going to go watch more dr who. want to know what the heck i'm taking about? start here.
Q & A results
a special thanks to everyone who sent me questions and answers for this project:
michelle
jess
bryan
mom
rowan
keith
santosh
weta
drook
and
danielle
as it turns out, i didn't use everything single question and answer (and a spare few of them have been slightly doctored, but i didn't think you'd mind); though, i did use a lot of them. now, without any further muttering and yappy, i give you a what some might call a poem what other's might call a list; but both schools agree, it is all rather enjoyable.
what are three ways to fall down?
they are all the ways we get to the store.
what is cold to an eskimo?
it is love.
what are butterflies?
they are canned food donors seeking revenge.
what is the meaning of life?
it is splendid for the turkeys!
what are those mirrors doing there?
they are burning down.
what is her favorite ice cream today?
it is going to implode if we leave it alone.
what is the secret of soy and how do i master it?
it is filled with candy.
what are computers going to be like in the year 2100?
they are not going to get the message.
what is the answer?
it is part pekinese, part great dane.
what are those earrings doing in your car?
they are going to shoot the canary.
what is is?
it is what you do when you come home late at night.
what are you burying them for?
they are trying to make rope from gizzards.
what is the tapestry hanging just left of your mother?
it is made of people.
what is my shadow?
it is not really there.
what is the big deal with chthulhu anyway?
the purpose of his existence is to endure.
what are those holes for?
they are my stars and they burn.
what are we going to tell the piggies now?
they are unforgiving when it comes to the sea.
what is a dog for?
it is important when avoiding dodge ball.
what is the square route of fuzzy divided by yen and then multiplied by that bee's knee?
it is exactly like a bendy straw.
what are you pajamas doing on my sofa?
they are stinky.
what are the last things you see when you die?
they are all that remains from the all-consuming fire.
what is falling from the sky?
it is a simple flick of the wrist.
what is your worst fault?
it is the door behind the door.
what is with the price of eggs?
it is the window that is always open?
what are the magic words?
they are irony in a bottle.
what are yyour shoes for?
they are the things that make it work.
what is the motto of the mini eggs appreciation society?
it is what happens because of cows.
what, precisely, is the function of a man's nipple?
it is meant to be a mystery and in point of fact, not actually your business anyway.
what is the meaning of your wit-less expression?
it is, ya that's it, just is.
what are you parents going to say?
they are the finest nipples i have ever ignored.
what is love?
it is a bad attempt at mining minerals.
what are the fish doing in my pants?
they are unable to understand.
what is the gift you gave?
it is forever.
what are revolving eyes?
they are an entirely repulsive race of legumes not well-liked by the natives of the only area they grow, utah.
what is the leeward side?
it is the thing that oinks!
what are imaginary numbers?
they are what you get for being good.
what is it with the scarf on a snowman's neck; if he's cold shouldn't he be given a jacket as well?
it is quixotic.
what is the sound i hear under the covers at night?
it is moving things to a less crowded place.
what are the little black dots all over my car?
they are a very special way of making you feel good.
what is the color of an angry moon?
it is brainless and confusing.
what is at the end of this hallway?
it is a snow drop that alighted gently on my face, knowing the fate that my warmth would bring.
what are they doing in sheffield?
they are a musical group known for their whirls and twirls.
what is pain in the surrounding?
it is a tangerine-colored sweater-set, but only when purchased in new orleans at marti gras.
what are the dolphins planning?
they are full of themselves.
what are my toes doing?
they are running, running, running, running...
what is a rapscallion?
it is deliciously sordid.
what is the light taking up room?
is it called the green flower.
what are the sounds of all the words at once?
they are the keys to the fridge.
what is the big empty circle doing here?
it is much bigger than your ambition.
what is a hot heart?
it is time we did something about this.
what is the endpoint of a whalesong?
it is an ecumenical question.
what is inside that beautiful house?
it is the last thing you'd ever do.
what is with soap these days?
it is silly but necessary.
what are dreams for?
they are 3D-tastic.
what is the color of greenishpink?
it is a punishment for shoplifting in kazakhstan.
what is that thing and why is it bristling?
it is made of tuna.
what is your objective?
it isn't the floor that counts, it is the fall.
what are purple and bouncy?
they are mine, my demons, mine!!
michelle
jess
bryan
mom
rowan
keith
santosh
weta
drook
and
danielle
as it turns out, i didn't use everything single question and answer (and a spare few of them have been slightly doctored, but i didn't think you'd mind); though, i did use a lot of them. now, without any further muttering and yappy, i give you a what some might call a poem what other's might call a list; but both schools agree, it is all rather enjoyable.
what are three ways to fall down?
they are all the ways we get to the store.
what is cold to an eskimo?
it is love.
what are butterflies?
they are canned food donors seeking revenge.
what is the meaning of life?
it is splendid for the turkeys!
what are those mirrors doing there?
they are burning down.
what is her favorite ice cream today?
it is going to implode if we leave it alone.
what is the secret of soy and how do i master it?
it is filled with candy.
what are computers going to be like in the year 2100?
they are not going to get the message.
what is the answer?
it is part pekinese, part great dane.
what are those earrings doing in your car?
they are going to shoot the canary.
what is is?
it is what you do when you come home late at night.
what are you burying them for?
they are trying to make rope from gizzards.
what is the tapestry hanging just left of your mother?
it is made of people.
what is my shadow?
it is not really there.
what is the big deal with chthulhu anyway?
the purpose of his existence is to endure.
what are those holes for?
they are my stars and they burn.
what are we going to tell the piggies now?
they are unforgiving when it comes to the sea.
what is a dog for?
it is important when avoiding dodge ball.
what is the square route of fuzzy divided by yen and then multiplied by that bee's knee?
it is exactly like a bendy straw.
what are you pajamas doing on my sofa?
they are stinky.
what are the last things you see when you die?
they are all that remains from the all-consuming fire.
what is falling from the sky?
it is a simple flick of the wrist.
what is your worst fault?
it is the door behind the door.
what is with the price of eggs?
it is the window that is always open?
what are the magic words?
they are irony in a bottle.
what are yyour shoes for?
they are the things that make it work.
what is the motto of the mini eggs appreciation society?
it is what happens because of cows.
what, precisely, is the function of a man's nipple?
it is meant to be a mystery and in point of fact, not actually your business anyway.
what is the meaning of your wit-less expression?
it is, ya that's it, just is.
what are you parents going to say?
they are the finest nipples i have ever ignored.
what is love?
it is a bad attempt at mining minerals.
what are the fish doing in my pants?
they are unable to understand.
what is the gift you gave?
it is forever.
what are revolving eyes?
they are an entirely repulsive race of legumes not well-liked by the natives of the only area they grow, utah.
what is the leeward side?
it is the thing that oinks!
what are imaginary numbers?
they are what you get for being good.
what is it with the scarf on a snowman's neck; if he's cold shouldn't he be given a jacket as well?
it is quixotic.
what is the sound i hear under the covers at night?
it is moving things to a less crowded place.
what are the little black dots all over my car?
they are a very special way of making you feel good.
what is the color of an angry moon?
it is brainless and confusing.
what is at the end of this hallway?
it is a snow drop that alighted gently on my face, knowing the fate that my warmth would bring.
what are they doing in sheffield?
they are a musical group known for their whirls and twirls.
what is pain in the surrounding?
it is a tangerine-colored sweater-set, but only when purchased in new orleans at marti gras.
what are the dolphins planning?
they are full of themselves.
what are my toes doing?
they are running, running, running, running...
what is a rapscallion?
it is deliciously sordid.
what is the light taking up room?
is it called the green flower.
what are the sounds of all the words at once?
they are the keys to the fridge.
what is the big empty circle doing here?
it is much bigger than your ambition.
what is a hot heart?
it is time we did something about this.
what is the endpoint of a whalesong?
it is an ecumenical question.
what is inside that beautiful house?
it is the last thing you'd ever do.
what is with soap these days?
it is silly but necessary.
what are dreams for?
they are 3D-tastic.
what is the color of greenishpink?
it is a punishment for shoplifting in kazakhstan.
what is that thing and why is it bristling?
it is made of tuna.
what is your objective?
it isn't the floor that counts, it is the fall.
what are purple and bouncy?
they are mine, my demons, mine!!
Tuesday, April 25, 2006
the bay-state agenda
orientation towards the atlantic recovered coast
erratically misplaced glacial wash off
(aka all the rocks in your back yard)
we're better than you because we pay higher taxes
on everything; standard automobile insurance
even our trash is most expensive, more closet millionaires
per capita and we're dunkies' country with one krispy
and no cream but for the milk in our hard serve
who gave birth to the chaos of ben&jerry's,
the new food pyramid and cars run on flax seed oil
a university on every corner releases 'wicked cool'
to the notoriously bad drivers bred by conditions
designed by herds of witty cows licking oyster shells
the hills have their own seasons, but you
haven't seen this much excitement since your bar mitzvah
and the cape disguises it's hokey dozen behind
property you only dream about, the bog is red
the cove is green and your wallet is empty
before you step out of your car because the price of ketchup
has an 80% increase as soon as the daffodils bloom
-----
is not exactly a tribut to massachusetts.
erratically misplaced glacial wash off
(aka all the rocks in your back yard)
we're better than you because we pay higher taxes
on everything; standard automobile insurance
even our trash is most expensive, more closet millionaires
per capita and we're dunkies' country with one krispy
and no cream but for the milk in our hard serve
who gave birth to the chaos of ben&jerry's,
the new food pyramid and cars run on flax seed oil
a university on every corner releases 'wicked cool'
to the notoriously bad drivers bred by conditions
designed by herds of witty cows licking oyster shells
the hills have their own seasons, but you
haven't seen this much excitement since your bar mitzvah
and the cape disguises it's hokey dozen behind
property you only dream about, the bog is red
the cove is green and your wallet is empty
before you step out of your car because the price of ketchup
has an 80% increase as soon as the daffodils bloom
-----
is not exactly a tribut to massachusetts.
Sunday, April 23, 2006
samples
i know, anyone can do this and call it poetry... but then again, everyone can read it and appreciate it. i'm not boasting or proclaiming any profundity or superiority here. take it at face.
sample 4
refrigerators never lie:
carrots are better when they're cold.
sample 5
there's nothing to do but agree
talk about the daffodils
and swallow your hot tea turned cold
the milk lasting on your teeth
sample 6
i am getting better at lying
i am getting worse at believing
sample 4
refrigerators never lie:
carrots are better when they're cold.
sample 5
there's nothing to do but agree
talk about the daffodils
and swallow your hot tea turned cold
the milk lasting on your teeth
sample 6
i am getting better at lying
i am getting worse at believing
the stay awake
do i portray myself as another cup
of leaves steeped in temperate water
milked but with half the sugar
or write another poem about it?
judging by the viscosity of my stomach
i choose both.
of leaves steeped in temperate water
milked but with half the sugar
or write another poem about it?
judging by the viscosity of my stomach
i choose both.
just another something
just another something morning
writing poetry on white ceramic mugs
with his mother's pinkest lipstick
the cup empties onto his front
circuits buzz and hum and steam up
in his lap like a forest fire
he tries to cry but the voice box
is the first to go this time
he decides he should learn to cry
about things that don't break him
he cries when he leaves the repair shop,
says he'll miss eddy the repair guy
too much to stand it in the end
he cries until they take him back
because he's overclocked his battery
he gives up crying,
but perfects the art of sulking.
writing poetry on white ceramic mugs
with his mother's pinkest lipstick
the cup empties onto his front
circuits buzz and hum and steam up
in his lap like a forest fire
he tries to cry but the voice box
is the first to go this time
he decides he should learn to cry
about things that don't break him
he cries when he leaves the repair shop,
says he'll miss eddy the repair guy
too much to stand it in the end
he cries until they take him back
because he's overclocked his battery
he gives up crying,
but perfects the art of sulking.
Saturday, April 22, 2006
dirty laundry money
rummaging through her coach knock-off
searching for the kit;
a tube of strawberry lip gloss,
drosophila and lonely sequin
beside her g-string footwear -
and i watched this from the bathroom stall
beside her -
pushing aside the dirty laundry money
she made waiting tables
searching for the kit;
a tube of strawberry lip gloss,
drosophila and lonely sequin
beside her g-string footwear -
and i watched this from the bathroom stall
beside her -
pushing aside the dirty laundry money
she made waiting tables
the voting has begun!! (& other news)
to cast your vote for poet laureate of the blogsphere, visit here. our friend ashraf is way in the lead at the moment; the man who thought he was finished with poetry >_<
go cast your votes, my darling poet friends, and be responsible for the someone who represents you.
and in other news, i dreamt all night that i was protecting ryan from nightmares about silent hill (we just saw the movie, which was !!!). you see, i wasn't even brave enough to have my own nightmares, i displaced them on my husband.
also, i have recieved about 10 replies to the q&a's already, so will probably put together the list wednesday or not long after that. how very exciting, no?
and lastly, time for katy to geek out... new dr who tonight!{*^$►&*@*&*░#^&#^δ%^@%%%%^&!!!!!
go cast your votes, my darling poet friends, and be responsible for the someone who represents you.
and in other news, i dreamt all night that i was protecting ryan from nightmares about silent hill (we just saw the movie, which was !!!). you see, i wasn't even brave enough to have my own nightmares, i displaced them on my husband.
also, i have recieved about 10 replies to the q&a's already, so will probably put together the list wednesday or not long after that. how very exciting, no?
and lastly, time for katy to geek out... new dr who tonight!{*^$►&*@*&*░#^&#^δ%^@%%%%^&!!!!!
Friday, April 21, 2006
gloss
a set of full lips
and my somewhatdefined cheek bones
will never be or do
enough to show
just how much love it takes
and my somewhatdefined cheek bones
will never be or do
enough to show
just how much love it takes
Wednesday, April 19, 2006
Questions & Answers
bla bla bla commemorating national poetry month bla bla bla
dear friends (poets and non), i have been scratching my head the past few days as to what would be a good poetry-like project in which everyone could get involved with, would have fun contributing to and be proud to have been a part of based on the quality of the final project.
i resorted to the trusty experiments list care of UPenn (inspired by the glorious and magnific bernadette mayer) and have found this:
#23 Collaborative Surrealist Language Event (I) (for two or more people): One person writes down a question without showing it to anyone else; simultaneously, another person writes down an answer; poem is formed by a series of these questions and answers. Alternate form: One question: multiple answers; vice versa. For example: "What is the pink elephant? The reason why it is so cold this week.// Is the door locked? / I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion." (Cf: Robert Desnos's ":Language Events.")
i have participated in this exercise/experiment with other groups in the past and have not yet been let down by the result. overall, it is a simple game with fabulous results (how’s that for a sale’s pitch).
how i recommend we, as a group, approach this project is simple, here it goes…
step 1: write a series of questions starting with “what is”/”what are” (between 5 and 10 questions would be ideal)
step 2: write a series of answers starting with “it is”/”they are” (again, 5 to 10 of these)
-please note, these questions and answers should be as random as you can manage. do not answer your own questions. be enigmatic and lop sided.
step 3: email to me katy acheson
step 4: wait
step 5: laugh and be amazed
what i intend to do is compile the questions and answers at random, then pick out some of the better random combinations and post them. everyone who sends me questions and answers will be credited as a contributor to the final product whether your questions are used or not.
i will compile the final product once i feel i have received enough questions and answers. i expect i should get at least 50 of each before calling a close to the fun for you. and remember, email them to me (this one no one else sees them, makes it all the more random and exciting!)
now, ask me something!
dear friends (poets and non), i have been scratching my head the past few days as to what would be a good poetry-like project in which everyone could get involved with, would have fun contributing to and be proud to have been a part of based on the quality of the final project.
i resorted to the trusty experiments list care of UPenn (inspired by the glorious and magnific bernadette mayer) and have found this:
#23 Collaborative Surrealist Language Event (I) (for two or more people): One person writes down a question without showing it to anyone else; simultaneously, another person writes down an answer; poem is formed by a series of these questions and answers. Alternate form: One question: multiple answers; vice versa. For example: "What is the pink elephant? The reason why it is so cold this week.// Is the door locked? / I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion." (Cf: Robert Desnos's ":Language Events.")
i have participated in this exercise/experiment with other groups in the past and have not yet been let down by the result. overall, it is a simple game with fabulous results (how’s that for a sale’s pitch).
how i recommend we, as a group, approach this project is simple, here it goes…
step 1: write a series of questions starting with “what is”/”what are” (between 5 and 10 questions would be ideal)
step 2: write a series of answers starting with “it is”/”they are” (again, 5 to 10 of these)
-please note, these questions and answers should be as random as you can manage. do not answer your own questions. be enigmatic and lop sided.
step 3: email to me katy acheson
step 4: wait
step 5: laugh and be amazed
what i intend to do is compile the questions and answers at random, then pick out some of the better random combinations and post them. everyone who sends me questions and answers will be credited as a contributor to the final product whether your questions are used or not.
i will compile the final product once i feel i have received enough questions and answers. i expect i should get at least 50 of each before calling a close to the fun for you. and remember, email them to me (this one no one else sees them, makes it all the more random and exciting!)
now, ask me something!
Tuesday, April 18, 2006
2 years
at times i feel i should let this be poetry and poetry only. other times i feel as though the people that read this blog are friends and are just as interested in what's going on in my head as they are in reading my poetry. i'm feeling the latter today and am feeling like a wordy post is needed right now (for my sake more than yours).
first and foremost, today is ryan and my two year wedding anniversary. last night we celebrated by going out to plymouth where we had a lovely little walk around, got some english goodies at an import store and had a nice mexican dinner. it was a perfect date.
actually, it's been a perfect two years ^_^
i'm not sure what we'll do today, but one thing is for certain, we will not be having cake. reason being: the dining room still smells like cake from the dalek cupcakes we (my little bro, friend danielle, michelle & johnny, ryan and i) made on easter. which was all in celebration of the new season of dr who airing in england.
dr who is fabulous, no, fantastic. david tennant is proving an entirely different and wonderful doctor with some unmistakably colin baker esque characteristics (such as raising his voice, going a wee bit over-the-top on all accounts, as well as his smug 'i'm the doctor, i heel people' parade of glee and joy at the end of the first adventure of the season... all that, and he knows how to drive the TARDIS quiet well, we think).
i won't get into too much more on dr who as i'm sure far too many of you have NO IDEA what i'm talking about (read: no idea how effing cool it is to be a dr who geek).
what i will go on about is poetry. now that's something you can all get into, right? (that is, i suppose, if you've made it this far into reading this long winded and unnecessary post of mine). saturday and sunday i wrote a total of 9 poems. granted, they were short... but that's still a lot of poems. there isn't much to say about them, really, that isn't already apparent in the poetry itself. one thing i do want to make clear though, is not to expect that all the time. no, i know you wouldn't. however, i have come to enjoy writing my poem-a-day and have come, in some way, to expect myself to write at least one poem each day.
i took yesterday off. i spent the day, instead, doing my job. yeah. i actually kept myself busy enough the entire 8 hours at work as to not warrant getting bored or anxious enough to set myself up for writing a poem.
i might take today off too, on account of having written this massive post as well as having a few other tasks to do. oh yeah, and IT'S MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY.
a last note: poetry month is into its second half now. i've got some catching up on my sumission mission, i know, but am more concerned with getting everyone together for a group project, what do you think? i will arrange a mass emial and post within the week to get everyone involved with something fun and exciting.
until then, thank you for reading through all my wittering.
first and foremost, today is ryan and my two year wedding anniversary. last night we celebrated by going out to plymouth where we had a lovely little walk around, got some english goodies at an import store and had a nice mexican dinner. it was a perfect date.
actually, it's been a perfect two years ^_^
i'm not sure what we'll do today, but one thing is for certain, we will not be having cake. reason being: the dining room still smells like cake from the dalek cupcakes we (my little bro, friend danielle, michelle & johnny, ryan and i) made on easter. which was all in celebration of the new season of dr who airing in england.
dr who is fabulous, no, fantastic. david tennant is proving an entirely different and wonderful doctor with some unmistakably colin baker esque characteristics (such as raising his voice, going a wee bit over-the-top on all accounts, as well as his smug 'i'm the doctor, i heel people' parade of glee and joy at the end of the first adventure of the season... all that, and he knows how to drive the TARDIS quiet well, we think).
i won't get into too much more on dr who as i'm sure far too many of you have NO IDEA what i'm talking about (read: no idea how effing cool it is to be a dr who geek).
what i will go on about is poetry. now that's something you can all get into, right? (that is, i suppose, if you've made it this far into reading this long winded and unnecessary post of mine). saturday and sunday i wrote a total of 9 poems. granted, they were short... but that's still a lot of poems. there isn't much to say about them, really, that isn't already apparent in the poetry itself. one thing i do want to make clear though, is not to expect that all the time. no, i know you wouldn't. however, i have come to enjoy writing my poem-a-day and have come, in some way, to expect myself to write at least one poem each day.
i took yesterday off. i spent the day, instead, doing my job. yeah. i actually kept myself busy enough the entire 8 hours at work as to not warrant getting bored or anxious enough to set myself up for writing a poem.
i might take today off too, on account of having written this massive post as well as having a few other tasks to do. oh yeah, and IT'S MY WEDDING ANNIVERSARY.
a last note: poetry month is into its second half now. i've got some catching up on my sumission mission, i know, but am more concerned with getting everyone together for a group project, what do you think? i will arrange a mass emial and post within the week to get everyone involved with something fun and exciting.
until then, thank you for reading through all my wittering.
Sunday, April 16, 2006
rebuttal
where i find myself is
slowly walking past
apparitions
over red carpeted bridges
the mask i wear is
wearing me more
formal function than
the surface of the koi pond
reveals
before i lean at the sun
we recognize the trembling reunion
of our fingertips
around daffodil stems who
do not fear them
slowly walking past
apparitions
over red carpeted bridges
the mask i wear is
wearing me more
formal function than
the surface of the koi pond
reveals
before i lean at the sun
we recognize the trembling reunion
of our fingertips
around daffodil stems who
do not fear them
resurection day
a yerning for basic erosion
or my nails should be longer
to pick the scabs off your cheek
or my nails should be longer
to pick the scabs off your cheek
hotel rendition of easter sermon
gather in the pool, followers of faith
let the fruit loops dissolve under your tongue
and listen closely as i lecture you on hotel etiquette
happy _______ easter
let the fruit loops dissolve under your tongue
and listen closely as i lecture you on hotel etiquette
the woman stole my pen. i watched it unfold. she eyed it, clicked it closed and dropped it in her purse. i said nothing; just watched in awe as she zipped her bag shut and walked out the door. she was professionally absent minded.
happy _______ easter
i am okay today
ignoring the holiday i
send people to the wrong establishment.
the blood on my knuckle
is a homage to the box of light bulbs behind the counter
and you.
send people to the wrong establishment.
the blood on my knuckle
is a homage to the box of light bulbs behind the counter
and you.
Saturday, April 15, 2006
silhouette
attention
_______set against me
are the words like butter
pouring fat deposits over
violated corn kernels
we suck to the point of
there is no where left
but right in the way
of the mirror escaping
rotting as though we
were figurative language
and this a love song
for a mysterious voice
_______set against me
are the words like butter
pouring fat deposits over
violated corn kernels
we suck to the point of
there is no where left
but right in the way
of the mirror escaping
rotting as though we
were figurative language
and this a love song
for a mysterious voice
double
let me break your milky skin
& rush your breakfast coffee/muffin combo
this is me, your favorite
_____haveaniceday
with sugar on top
& rush your breakfast coffee/muffin combo
this is me, your favorite
_____haveaniceday
with sugar on top
[...go mindless for a day]
let me go mindless for a day
cartoons in pink and blue
why i insist on putting two dominos
in my tea
when there is milk involved
computer simulate my drowning
at the age of xena
then grace me with my final wish
we all want our favorite poets
molded into action figures
with removable clothes
let me play barbie again
use my imagination for greater lessers
pieces of mind and paint my toes
-----
was inspired by bryan and my cup of luke warm tea. i would highly recommend you go have a gander at some of bryan's work. have been reading his NOO collection.
oh, and the fact of the matter is: i don't care about your weather.
cartoons in pink and blue
why i insist on putting two dominos
in my tea
when there is milk involved
computer simulate my drowning
at the age of xena
then grace me with my final wish
we all want our favorite poets
molded into action figures
with removable clothes
let me play barbie again
use my imagination for greater lessers
pieces of mind and paint my toes
-----
was inspired by bryan and my cup of luke warm tea. i would highly recommend you go have a gander at some of bryan's work. have been reading his NOO collection.
oh, and the fact of the matter is: i don't care about your weather.
out of order
feeling plastic
eroding at joints
circuit broken spatula
palm carrying eggs
locked in styrofoam crates
opening trigger - a face
wrapped in paper
gold leafed
my thermostat is broken
the button is stuck
happy sequence -
growing more complicated
please standby for further instructions
a poem by robot girl
eroding at joints
circuit broken spatula
palm carrying eggs
locked in styrofoam crates
opening trigger - a face
wrapped in paper
gold leafed
my thermostat is broken
the button is stuck
happy sequence -
growing more complicated
please standby for further instructions
a poem by robot girl
Friday, April 14, 2006
fruit spore
a grapefruit
& spoon will tango
so
the juices squirt in onlookers' eyes
from a table away
we look on, glaring over mocha
then robot boy will ask
if i were a duck what would i see
when i look up at the moon?
we had been discussing
the human ability to see faces
in rock formations
& colonies of pink mold spores
& spoon will tango
so
the juices squirt in onlookers' eyes
from a table away
we look on, glaring over mocha
then robot boy will ask
if i were a duck what would i see
when i look up at the moon?
we had been discussing
the human ability to see faces
in rock formations
& colonies of pink mold spores
cracked
the remaining eleven residents of centralia PA are a bit ...
but what an amazing, and as ryan put it "prophetic", story: the fire that burned for 100 years.
tingles, doesn't it?
but what an amazing, and as ryan put it "prophetic", story: the fire that burned for 100 years.
tingles, doesn't it?
Wednesday, April 12, 2006
the complexities of being wife
i give names to each full basket of dirty laundry
_____of all that is blue
_____greenwich monster of brownin
_____lusty pants collected
i speak to an imaginary tv crew
while i dice four potatoes
imagining how rachel ray would do it
loving the sound of dried garlic in a glass bottle
rattling, trying to escape
i leave useless flyers in the mailbox
i leave it something to read
__________i consider this a generous gesture
i loose my breathe around the bog
then lie in the yard with my legs stretched skyward
for children in a passing bus to laugh about
i forget about the laundry until the last minute
but i have no problem with cleansing the bathrooms
_____of all that is blue
_____greenwich monster of brownin
_____lusty pants collected
i speak to an imaginary tv crew
while i dice four potatoes
imagining how rachel ray would do it
loving the sound of dried garlic in a glass bottle
rattling, trying to escape
i leave useless flyers in the mailbox
i leave it something to read
__________i consider this a generous gesture
i loose my breathe around the bog
then lie in the yard with my legs stretched skyward
for children in a passing bus to laugh about
i forget about the laundry until the last minute
but i have no problem with cleansing the bathrooms
touch my omlet
michael craig wants you to touch his omlet
so why don't you?
michael craig's short collection of poems is the second float in the bear parade and will only take you 15 minutes to read; perhaps even less time to fall in love with.
here is my michael craig source poem:
stolen from, inspired by, etc
michael craig was at a barbecue.
i want him relaxed fit. and wrinkle free.
michael craig spat lightly all over me.
i think i can eat him.
master chang opened the door to his cottage--
it was michael craig.
you can leave it to him to describe your world.
i could not stop this insane michael craig.
so why don't you?
michael craig's short collection of poems is the second float in the bear parade and will only take you 15 minutes to read; perhaps even less time to fall in love with.
here is my michael craig source poem:
stolen from, inspired by, etc
michael craig was at a barbecue.
i want him relaxed fit. and wrinkle free.
michael craig spat lightly all over me.
i think i can eat him.
master chang opened the door to his cottage--
it was michael craig.
you can leave it to him to describe your world.
i could not stop this insane michael craig.
creeture feet-
[left]
discomforted she lies with time
________and again
spreading her heal into the crux
___of his back
her ball jointed gentle disposition
________is a stomach ache away
from spoiling.
[right]
gluing blue gems to every hello
her magic fingers stitch heart strings
________to fabricated
rolling in props and squibs
discomforted she lies with time
________and again
spreading her heal into the crux
___of his back
her ball jointed gentle disposition
________is a stomach ache away
from spoiling.
[right]
gluing blue gems to every hello
her magic fingers stitch heart strings
________to fabricated
rolling in props and squibs
Tuesday, April 11, 2006
bad mana chic
as if i don't owe her enough thanks for my beautiful lucy-avatar [ah, and never mind the fact that i've totally ripped off her signature smiley ^_^], michelle has gone and flattered me to no end by attributing her regained appreciation for poetry to me and mine.
i would like to be able to, right now, write michelle a little dedication poem; however, am feeling rather restless at the moment (like i told a. 'spring is getting under my skin' and alls i want to do is 'go outside'). so, will have to do one of my public promises here. an iou with at least 3 witnesses.
i would like to be able to, right now, write michelle a little dedication poem; however, am feeling rather restless at the moment (like i told a. 'spring is getting under my skin' and alls i want to do is 'go outside'). so, will have to do one of my public promises here. an iou with at least 3 witnesses.
Monday, April 10, 2006
four poems
my thunder fists:
this man was birthed by fire
a woman from water that falls from dark clouds
is it together that
they storm through
reject:
spider woman stole
and raised four corn children
under the purple canyon
our resolve, our journey:
ended at the foot of the red fox
an empty turtle shell
and the heart of a buffalo beating
in our naked hands
drums:
the hurt of a loon on clean water
echoing through our footsteps
the bear leaves no fish for us
on the shore is bird and fox
they linger together
the fox knows fire
the bird knows water
we are hungry
but we are not foolish
this man was birthed by fire
a woman from water that falls from dark clouds
is it together that
they storm through
reject:
spider woman stole
and raised four corn children
under the purple canyon
our resolve, our journey:
ended at the foot of the red fox
an empty turtle shell
and the heart of a buffalo beating
in our naked hands
drums:
the hurt of a loon on clean water
echoing through our footsteps
the bear leaves no fish for us
on the shore is bird and fox
they linger together
the fox knows fire
the bird knows water
we are hungry
but we are not foolish
Sunday, April 09, 2006
poetry sampler
was not able to concentrate enough today to write one cohesive poem out of the three parts that appear below. i was trying, but have had no luck. therefore, i present to you, katy's special poetry sampler:
I
in a bodiless act of faltered
the phone rang discrete as a subway track
through your backyard.
II
my ear hurts, she said.
this rampage of an angel effect
is wearing your socks again.
III
my low nickel lined stomach
swallowed your security pills
for a raven view of your innards
I
in a bodiless act of faltered
the phone rang discrete as a subway track
through your backyard.
II
my ear hurts, she said.
this rampage of an angel effect
is wearing your socks again.
III
my low nickel lined stomach
swallowed your security pills
for a raven view of your innards
Saturday, April 08, 2006
on april 8th i...
i wrote a poem on piloteye
saw v for vendetta. think i will let it inspire me. tomorrow.
and in other news. brian posted two poems on the boarding house (would link it, but there's a button in need of some fondling).
saw v for vendetta. think i will let it inspire me. tomorrow.
and in other news. brian posted two poems on the boarding house (would link it, but there's a button in need of some fondling).
Friday, April 07, 2006
what's Norther, then?
is it prince george / fort st john b.c. like it says on page three?
perhaps that's part. but from what i've just experienced Norther is a new kind of canadian hit. something leonard cohen could be proud of, for sure.
i was going to do a blown out review--which i may still do later--but i've decided that for the moment a plug will be jsut as effective. i have only read the journal once through (though i have read many of the poems on the contributors' blogs); therefore, don't feel like i've allowed the material to really seep in. i will say, though that it is a beautiful little e-jounral and am proud to boast about it here on my humble corner of the blogsphere.
so kiddies, to get your copy of the first ever edition of Norther please email either rob or hardy and request your copy.
perhaps that's part. but from what i've just experienced Norther is a new kind of canadian hit. something leonard cohen could be proud of, for sure.
i was going to do a blown out review--which i may still do later--but i've decided that for the moment a plug will be jsut as effective. i have only read the journal once through (though i have read many of the poems on the contributors' blogs); therefore, don't feel like i've allowed the material to really seep in. i will say, though that it is a beautiful little e-jounral and am proud to boast about it here on my humble corner of the blogsphere.
so kiddies, to get your copy of the first ever edition of Norther please email either rob or hardy and request your copy.
medusa*
my lips meditate over the rim of a cup
brimming with hot tea milk and sugar compounds
my solitude is in the voices
leaking through the unfinished ceiling
my heart is deep in his cheek
and my barrier is an invisible telephone line
my medicine is ill itself
with stomach aches and a sore throat
my medusa is winning me over
who will carry me on his back
when i am made of stone
*see sister poem at arch.memory
brimming with hot tea milk and sugar compounds
my solitude is in the voices
leaking through the unfinished ceiling
my heart is deep in his cheek
and my barrier is an invisible telephone line
my medicine is ill itself
with stomach aches and a sore throat
my medusa is winning me over
who will carry me on his back
when i am made of stone
*see sister poem at arch.memory
am needing your help
Octopus Magazine are accepting manuscript submissions. they're looking for 16-32 pages of poetry (which i totally have). the problem lies not in whether or not i have enough poems to put together a chapbook, the issues is with which ones... do i go for the domestics side of my poetry, the happy little wife; or do i unleash the poetess?
you'll have to excuse me for not hyper-linking everything here. but those of you who do read my blog (anyone who recognizes at least half of the titles listed below), which list do you think would work better in an octopus chapbook? which group of poems have i got a better chance of selling?
note: these lists of poems are not in the order which i would arrange the poems in a chapbook.
domestic bliss
the puzzle bird
not a sex poem
the undoing
husband & wife (as edited by brian)
the hotel science series (as selected by brian)
room service
domestic bliss
pneumonia boy
the imaginary me
and i the poet
dear salamander
and then i wrote this poem
[i am the cat]
eggs
the laundry matt princes
[not writing poetry is not easy] (as in an introduction, perhaps)
what do you get for the fish who has everything?
or
poetess complex (am not sure i would actually call it this, though)
he & she
a different
[i know you]
foul
fish into six [prose form]
halogen (as edited by brian)
playgrounds' romance
blasphemed (not sure about this one to be honest)
[my heavy eyelids shut the light out]
this is february
the giver
you thought as though
angels do (another one i'm not really sure about)
nice to meet you
graces (edited version)
without your sex
stage hand
doll
the act of being fruit
almost all these poems are available on this blog. the few edited by brian are not here in the form in which they would be submitted but they are here.
so, what says you? or should i not bother with a chapbook and go back to my one-poem-at-a-time submission spree? if you like a particular group of poems are there any you would add or take out? let me know, even if i don't end up submitting, at least i'll have an idea for a collection brewing!
you'll have to excuse me for not hyper-linking everything here. but those of you who do read my blog (anyone who recognizes at least half of the titles listed below), which list do you think would work better in an octopus chapbook? which group of poems have i got a better chance of selling?
note: these lists of poems are not in the order which i would arrange the poems in a chapbook.
domestic bliss
the puzzle bird
not a sex poem
the undoing
husband & wife (as edited by brian)
the hotel science series (as selected by brian)
room service
domestic bliss
pneumonia boy
the imaginary me
and i the poet
dear salamander
and then i wrote this poem
[i am the cat]
eggs
the laundry matt princes
[not writing poetry is not easy] (as in an introduction, perhaps)
what do you get for the fish who has everything?
or
poetess complex (am not sure i would actually call it this, though)
he & she
a different
[i know you]
foul
fish into six [prose form]
halogen (as edited by brian)
playgrounds' romance
blasphemed (not sure about this one to be honest)
[my heavy eyelids shut the light out]
this is february
the giver
you thought as though
angels do (another one i'm not really sure about)
nice to meet you
graces (edited version)
without your sex
stage hand
doll
the act of being fruit
almost all these poems are available on this blog. the few edited by brian are not here in the form in which they would be submitted but they are here.
so, what says you? or should i not bother with a chapbook and go back to my one-poem-at-a-time submission spree? if you like a particular group of poems are there any you would add or take out? let me know, even if i don't end up submitting, at least i'll have an idea for a collection brewing!
Thursday, April 06, 2006
he & she then
he eases towards
she speaks softly
they share
they want each other
in
and everyone knows
they want us to know
but it won't happen here
and no way for it to
then
he
it was perfect.
she speaks softly
they share
they want each other
in
and everyone knows
they want us to know
but it won't happen here
and no way for it to
then
he
it was perfect.
i love it (when you say my name)
a genuine - good morning katy
___hello sweetie
_____hello dearie
_______hello katy
_________hey katy
___________ikhteh
i love you too, katy
___my katy
katy did.
katy will.
katy has.
katy, have i ever told you...
this is for katy
katy says
___thank you
___hello sweetie
_____hello dearie
_______hello katy
_________hey katy
___________ikhteh
i love you too, katy
___my katy
katy did.
katy will.
katy has.
katy, have i ever told you...
this is for katy
katy says
___thank you
a different
my poem about oranges is this time:
i was trained, like all americans,
to eat oranges the right way;
two hands and a stack of napkins.
but mine come with predetermined
thumb nail prints in the peel.
and i
i break the case of each slice
squeeze the pulp with teeth
trained to break the flesh on men's backs.
thinner skin and half moon slices;
frank, give me your finger and suck.
i was trained, like all americans,
to eat oranges the right way;
two hands and a stack of napkins.
but mine come with predetermined
thumb nail prints in the peel.
and i
i break the case of each slice
squeeze the pulp with teeth
trained to break the flesh on men's backs.
thinner skin and half moon slices;
frank, give me your finger and suck.
broomtookhandlebra
temporary wife complete with doll avatar
at your doorstep; 8am with broom took & handle
her with your bare hands for a cup of something hot
or cut stems in pink socks and green all stars
fraught with an accident waiting to happen
lucky pinch of salt, for good luck after all
the robins have been fed cake and dried wheat meal
dinner is at 7
at your doorstep; 8am with broom took & handle
her with your bare hands for a cup of something hot
or cut stems in pink socks and green all stars
fraught with an accident waiting to happen
lucky pinch of salt, for good luck after all
the robins have been fed cake and dried wheat meal
dinner is at 7
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
gloss
conducive when wet, a window shop dummy
modeled after me cup for cup, fold for fold,
she is wearing my lip gloss too.
but mine are fat from kisses.
_______________________________we linger at the brink
of cotton sheets dyed purple to thank the arabian genius
who invented it.
before he kisses the cut i let a canadian
slice my ring finger open with his poetry.
easily distracted by glossy finishes, we sift
our eagerness into powder, sprinkle it on
lightly. with raspberries and mint twigs as garnish.
your butter is sweeter then.
modeled after me cup for cup, fold for fold,
she is wearing my lip gloss too.
but mine are fat from kisses.
_______________________________we linger at the brink
of cotton sheets dyed purple to thank the arabian genius
who invented it.
before he kisses the cut i let a canadian
slice my ring finger open with his poetry.
easily distracted by glossy finishes, we sift
our eagerness into powder, sprinkle it on
lightly. with raspberries and mint twigs as garnish.
your butter is sweeter then.
Tuesday, April 04, 2006
On Birds for Example
(a chapbook by Jess Mynes)
I was going to start this with a disclaimer about how I’m not really qualified to do a chapbook review. Then I started drafting, started thinking and came to the conclusion that when it comes to poetry, the qualifications are hazy at best and should be altogether ignored in this instance. The reason I am doing a public review of Jess Mynes’ chapbook (available through Carve Press) is because a: I told Jess I would elaborate on my response to the chapbook in one form or another, b: I like Jess as an individual and c: I really dig the chapbook.
I found out about Birds for Example on Ron Silliman’s blog where “Orange” had been posted in full. I loved the poem and decided to splurge on the $5 chapbook. Now I have a confession: Birds for Example is the first chapbook I’ve ever bought and read. I honestly had no idea that there was such a huge market in chapbooks. So, thank you Mr. Silliman and thank you Jess both for opening me up to the idea after all my unintentional avoidance.
Upon receiving my copy of Birds for Example I had no idea who or what “Jess” was—old, young, boy, girl, liberal, academic, conservative, alien. All that I knew about Jess was that Jess was a poet. With this blissful ignorance as to who my speaker was, I prepared myself to sit down and learn. Upon finishing the lovely little book, I still had no idea who or what Jess was other than a damn fine poet.
I still wasn’t even sure of Jess’s gender. This feat was absolutely astounding to me. Anyone reading my poetry is, I’m sure, to figure out how much of a girl I am within a few poems. How could it be that a poet could so magnificently elude gender? To some advantage, the name “Jess” doesn’t give much away, does it? The only real clue is that the chapbook is dedicated to a one “Sarah”.
I tracked Jess’s blog down via Carve. It wasn’t until visiting fewer & further that I learned the true nature of this elusive “Jess”. As it turns out, he is a friendly bald guy living in western mass, working as a librarian. Okay, so I’ve spoilt the experience for anyone else who didn’t know who or what “Jess” was and was thinking they might indulge in the chapbook (which you should anyway). It’s not an experience I think many people would have had, nor one that I think many people will have, and not just in reading Jess’s chapbook, but in reading any collection of poetry.
The experience of reading poetry and negating, not just the poet, but gender altogether, was something remarkably refreshing for me. I was left alone with the words and the words were amazing. Having had read Frank O’Hara and Marie Howe just prior to my exposure to Jess made the whole experience of unknowing that much more dynamic. Both O’Hara and Howe are poets motivated by sex (not exclusively), whereas Jess’s poetry seems to be driven by observation and admiration.
While his works are playful in tone and energy, there is a maturity about the content of Birds for Example which lingers just above the sex-line. The relationships are built in and do not warrant further exploring—it feels, to me, as though these characters have been living here for a very long time. You’d think, though, that such a characteristic in poetry might cause it to feel stagnate or stale. However, Jess manages the antiquity of his characters by placing them in a myriad of historical particulars such as in “no fly zone” where we are exposed to allusions to grandiose “port arrivals”—picture sailors in white caps rushing off a battle cruiser at a New York port in 1918—migrant workers, and has-been cowboy icons in dulled-down uniforms or playing Mexicans in made-for-TV-movies.
One might be wondering now, as I had wondered, if Jess was avoiding the matter of sex altogether. As Mr. Silliman has not-long-past brought to the proverbial table, there seems to be a lack of sexuality in academic poetry written by straight men. I can’t say either way what Jess’s sexual orientation is, and I wouldn’t go about trying to guess. It does seem, though, that there may be some suppression at work in his poetry.
The opening poem, “in West Virginia, in 1938”, is a fine example of everything Jess isn’t saying:
Fortunately, having had the rare opportunity to read the collection without any awareness as to who was speaking to me, such moments as the one above presented themselves to me not as suppressed love making but as genuine moments of care that supersede the need for male and female parts to be present at the moment of impact. I don’t think, within the reality of the collection, that Jess was trying to hide anything. Instead, I have come to understand and appreciate Birds for Example as a collection of moments in poetry worth aspiration.
I found out about Birds for Example on Ron Silliman’s blog where “Orange” had been posted in full. I loved the poem and decided to splurge on the $5 chapbook. Now I have a confession: Birds for Example is the first chapbook I’ve ever bought and read. I honestly had no idea that there was such a huge market in chapbooks. So, thank you Mr. Silliman and thank you Jess both for opening me up to the idea after all my unintentional avoidance.
Upon receiving my copy of Birds for Example I had no idea who or what “Jess” was—old, young, boy, girl, liberal, academic, conservative, alien. All that I knew about Jess was that Jess was a poet. With this blissful ignorance as to who my speaker was, I prepared myself to sit down and learn. Upon finishing the lovely little book, I still had no idea who or what Jess was other than a damn fine poet.
I still wasn’t even sure of Jess’s gender. This feat was absolutely astounding to me. Anyone reading my poetry is, I’m sure, to figure out how much of a girl I am within a few poems. How could it be that a poet could so magnificently elude gender? To some advantage, the name “Jess” doesn’t give much away, does it? The only real clue is that the chapbook is dedicated to a one “Sarah”.
I tracked Jess’s blog down via Carve. It wasn’t until visiting fewer & further that I learned the true nature of this elusive “Jess”. As it turns out, he is a friendly bald guy living in western mass, working as a librarian. Okay, so I’ve spoilt the experience for anyone else who didn’t know who or what “Jess” was and was thinking they might indulge in the chapbook (which you should anyway). It’s not an experience I think many people would have had, nor one that I think many people will have, and not just in reading Jess’s chapbook, but in reading any collection of poetry.
The experience of reading poetry and negating, not just the poet, but gender altogether, was something remarkably refreshing for me. I was left alone with the words and the words were amazing. Having had read Frank O’Hara and Marie Howe just prior to my exposure to Jess made the whole experience of unknowing that much more dynamic. Both O’Hara and Howe are poets motivated by sex (not exclusively), whereas Jess’s poetry seems to be driven by observation and admiration.
While his works are playful in tone and energy, there is a maturity about the content of Birds for Example which lingers just above the sex-line. The relationships are built in and do not warrant further exploring—it feels, to me, as though these characters have been living here for a very long time. You’d think, though, that such a characteristic in poetry might cause it to feel stagnate or stale. However, Jess manages the antiquity of his characters by placing them in a myriad of historical particulars such as in “no fly zone” where we are exposed to allusions to grandiose “port arrivals”—picture sailors in white caps rushing off a battle cruiser at a New York port in 1918—migrant workers, and has-been cowboy icons in dulled-down uniforms or playing Mexicans in made-for-TV-movies.
One might be wondering now, as I had wondered, if Jess was avoiding the matter of sex altogether. As Mr. Silliman has not-long-past brought to the proverbial table, there seems to be a lack of sexuality in academic poetry written by straight men. I can’t say either way what Jess’s sexual orientation is, and I wouldn’t go about trying to guess. It does seem, though, that there may be some suppression at work in his poetry.
The opening poem, “in West Virginia, in 1938”, is a fine example of everything Jess isn’t saying:
Whereas I may have written similar lines as similes, Jess has created an extended metaphor in which a tomato replaces a potential lover to the projected voice of the narrator/poet.“O cherry tomato
kiss me full on the small of my back
____And all the quivers
of summers renew”
Fortunately, having had the rare opportunity to read the collection without any awareness as to who was speaking to me, such moments as the one above presented themselves to me not as suppressed love making but as genuine moments of care that supersede the need for male and female parts to be present at the moment of impact. I don’t think, within the reality of the collection, that Jess was trying to hide anything. Instead, I have come to understand and appreciate Birds for Example as a collection of moments in poetry worth aspiration.
[i know you]
resting your hand on my leg
just above the knee
as we sit in traffic
i know you
want to comfort me but don't
know exactly how to
yet
the subject shifts to
which game should you trade
in
your hand tightens around
my leg as i start to cry
leaning down you try
to catch my line of sight
with yours
i want to kiss you but don't
know exactly how to
yet
just above the knee
as we sit in traffic
i know you
want to comfort me but don't
know exactly how to
yet
the subject shifts to
which game should you trade
in
your hand tightens around
my leg as i start to cry
leaning down you try
to catch my line of sight
with yours
i want to kiss you but don't
know exactly how to
yet
Monday, April 03, 2006
ode to a little blue skutter named bob
in order to read
"ode to ... bob"
please hover your mouse over each picture
(left to right)
Sunday, April 02, 2006
defect in
he did not understand
why the birds did not sing
or why the sun rose later.
he did not understand
if the hands on the clock
read 8, then why
were they all acting
as if it were 7?
he did not understand.
his insides told him the time
but the birds were late.
he had learned the truth
that the birds are never wrong.
this contradiction worried him.
could he be wrong?
or was it the birds?
what defect was this?
a defect in time, perhaps?
he accepted this.
he was correct,
the birds were correct,
but time was all askew.
he let the birds wake him
for the rest of his warranty.
why the birds did not sing
or why the sun rose later.
he did not understand
if the hands on the clock
read 8, then why
were they all acting
as if it were 7?
he did not understand.
his insides told him the time
but the birds were late.
he had learned the truth
that the birds are never wrong.
this contradiction worried him.
could he be wrong?
or was it the birds?
what defect was this?
a defect in time, perhaps?
he accepted this.
he was correct,
the birds were correct,
but time was all askew.
he let the birds wake him
for the rest of his warranty.
Saturday, April 01, 2006
it does not have a title.
the purple coat with a scarf
says hello, i am looking for coffee
her and he are best friends
this time of day. but what she
doesn't know about coffee...
... has got nothing to do with me.
[[eerrgg i had another something something going on in my head. it wasn't just about that woman, there was something... lost. those stupid people had to come interrupt me, didn't they? and just to make me talk lots about stuff they won't remember. my throat hurts, see this lump in my cheek, it's a cough drop. my throat hurts, so go away. i do not want to talk (to you). grrr and on top of that i lost the other half of the poem.]]
says hello, i am looking for coffee
her and he are best friends
this time of day. but what she
doesn't know about coffee...
... has got nothing to do with me.
[[eerrgg i had another something something going on in my head. it wasn't just about that woman, there was something... lost. those stupid people had to come interrupt me, didn't they? and just to make me talk lots about stuff they won't remember. my throat hurts, see this lump in my cheek, it's a cough drop. my throat hurts, so go away. i do not want to talk (to you). grrr and on top of that i lost the other half of the poem.]]
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