Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

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TMI Tuesdays #9

February 5, 2008

Q 1. by what nickname(s) were you known as a child?
A 1. ry

Q 2. do you have a favorite poem and, if so, what is it?
A 2. i’ve posted it before here

Q 3. what is your greatest regret in life, something that you failed to do that you wish you did?
A 3. i don’t believe in regrets but i do think that there were times in my life when i could have tried harder but didn’t for no other reason but sheer laziness.

Q 4. you are tired and hungry, but it’s too late to cook. if any snack food were available to you, what would you choose and why?
A 4. a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with doritos (in the sandwich, NOT on the side) would be a top five pick. other things on the top five list would be chef boyardee spaghetti and meatballs (heating in the microwave isn’t really cooking, right?), cheerios with whole milk and bananas, wavy chips and onion dip, and chex mix (the real homemade kind). but, i’m a good eater and haven’t had any of these things in any great quantity in quite some time. i would likely throw some pasta on the stove or heat up something frozen like quorn nuggets. for me, it’s never too late to cook.

Q 5. what is the oldest item of clothing (not jewelry!) that you wear regularly and what do you love about it?
A 5. my adidas shirt. i bought it at a thrift store when i was in high school. it was quite worn when i bought it but i could go bra-less in it ’cause the adidas logo goes right across the chest. now it’s so thin i have to wear a cami or tanktop underneath! but it’s so damn soft and i get lots of compliments on it and it’s vintage and i love it.

Bonus Q: name a movie or TV show that changed your thinking or behavior.
Bonus A: six feet under which started in 2001 – after my father’s death and before my mother’s. i was depressed and anxious and having a very difficult time dealing with my grief. the first episode, for those who don’t recall, introduces you to a family who runs a funeral home.  the father of the family is killed in a car accident and the family is forced to deal with their own grief. one of the brothers in the family starts to ask a series of questions about grief as a social construct, about how so many other cultures do it so much differently than we do.  why, if death is universal, do humans celebrate/mourn it in such varied ways?  it was all so simple yet so pedantic. i was really drawn into the theme of that first episode – grief as a (distinctly western?) social disease? – and i remember having one of those “ah ha” moments. i never watched much more of the show after that first episode but it really helped heal me.

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i like my body when it is with your…

December 15, 2007

i’ve recently rediscovered the poetry of e.e. cummings. 

i like my body when it is with your
body. It is so quite a new thing.
Muscles better and nerves more.
i like your body. i like what it does,
i like its hows. i like to feel the spine
of your body and its bones, and the trembling
-firm-smooth ness and which i will
again and again and again
kiss, i like kissing this and that of you,
i like,, slowly stroking the, shocking fuzz
of your electric fur, and what-is-it comes
over parting flesh . . . . And eyes big Love-crumbs,

and possibly i like the thrill

of under me you quite so new

that is all.

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whitman mashup

November 13, 2007

Loafe with me on the grass, loose the stop from your throat,
Not words, not music or rhyme I want, not custom or lecture, not even the best,
Only the lull I like, the hum of your valved voice

.
short sleepy breaths rise over the covers
adorned by a soft dream
remembrances of you
me
life

I mind how once we lay such a transparent summer morning,
How you settled your head athwart my hips and gently turn’d over upon me,
And parted the shirt from my bosom-bone, and plunged your tongue to my bare-stript heart,
And reach’d till you felt my beard, and reach’d till you held my feet

the nape of your neck
curving down to your back
a flicked tongue sets your sacrum a blaze
you awake to an explosion
steel laced with gossamer

Swiftly arose and spread around me the peace and knowledge that pass all the argument of the earth,
And I know that the hand of God is the promise of my own,
And I know that the spirit of God is the brother of my own,
And that all the men ever born are also my brothers, and the women my sisters and lovers,
And that a kelson of the creation is love,
And limitless are leaves stiff or drooping in the fields,
And brown ants in the little wells beneath them,
And mossy scabs of the worm fenced heap’d stones, elder, mullein and poke-weed

this is love
this is love
this is love
you scream from your slumber
and dream turns to reality
and we are home

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Venus and Adonis

October 24, 2007

Like a red morn that ever yet betokened,
Wreck to the seaman, tempest to the field,
Sorrow to the shepherds, woe unto the birds,
Gusts and foul flaws to herdmen and to herds

.

the alarm clock cackles

again

eyes open, gaze falls

halcyon mornings become you

stir and shift

bodies moor together

no longer two ships

adrift in scarlet morn sky

“Fondling,” she saith, “since I have hemm’d thee here
Within the circuit of this ivory pale,
I’ll be a park, and thou shalt be my deer;
Feed where thou wilt, on mountain or in dale:
Graze on my lips; and if those hills be dry,
Stray lower, where the pleasant fountains lie”