Saturday, August 21, 2010

i was so nervous to meet his mother
i had heard descriptions that were
intimidating to say the least.
i had heard of all the things she didnt like:
chipped nail polish,
fingerprints on the steel refrigerator handles.
so naturally i checked myself for chips or smudges.
i put my sweaty palms down carefully on my thighs
and sat very ladylike.
i wore a nice blouse
i powdered away the shine and sweat
from my after school face.
i shaved my legs,
i shaved my
keep it private, i'm dating her son.
i picked out the right earrings.
i toned down my sleaziness,
stuffed the swear words back in my mouth.
then she presented me with a test:
a box of donuts; glazed, chocolate, bearclaws.
and how am i supposed to be?
am i supposed to be demure to donuts,
as if i have never met donuts
and i could not formally accept the invitation?
i think of so many girls who would politely shake their head no in this situation.
and i thought briefly of this,
this sugar limbo.
"oh no thank you, im fine"
oh what a lady, she turned down that donut with such grace.
but despite this whole presentation of myself i have for her,
my initial reaction is "oh yeah!"
hear i come, you delicious bearclaw!
and later my boyfriend tells me, after all my fears
that she liked me because i ate the donut

Sunday, August 15, 2010


If I could tell you what the years mean to me.
If I could express the kind of love that ages with you,
that sees you when youre awkward,
when there was still a gap between your front teeth,
when your heart was first spat out,
when your father was harsh about art and what it means,
when people questioned your fashion, your sense,
your wisdom, your words, your scenes.
If I could show you you are so beautiful when youre vulnerable,
when you let it all spill out,
when the words youve locked away roll off those big eyelashes of yours.
If I could let you know that
that maze of a mind of yours still so amazes me,
you would probably say I have cheesy puns,
but I wont stop making them for you.
You say I embarrass you sometimes
and im so sorry for my oblivious mouth,
but I wont stop learning from you.
If I could tell you it is such a relief to see you recover
to see the light return to your eyes,
to hear your laugh climb back up your ribs
and bounce around in my ears, loud and alive.
It reminds me of all the years
of wanting to hear that sound.
Because I have known you a long time I know this means
that sometimes the world will wound you
and the laughter may be lost in your chest,
that sometimes we forget to say how much all these things mean,
but the bond we have, no matter how distant we may be in mind or miles,
makes me who I am and is a part of me,
it has helped me to be myself,
and even if I could tell you all this
you still wouldn't really know how much that means to me

Sunday, August 8, 2010

i am the mother of this heart
and i let it play
out in the sun
in the rain, in the mud
free to be dirty and to enjoy
i am not some overprotective parent
that sees the sky turning gray
and locks the doors.
it might be hard for me to stay put sometimes,
so maybe i enjoy all this running around, really.
im young
im naive
and strong for now,
but i do give in.
i give in to love everytime. i give it all.
i give it my soul. my speech. my anger.
my childhood. my mistakes. my looks. my light.
it takes so much strength
to share with someone else
to say okay, thats alright
i want
i think
i can
this is
i am
we do
we will
this is not it,
we are not through.

Thursday, August 5, 2010

when i hear people say "i'm not good at writing" I usually say something like: "Maybe you are and you just don't know it. If you write a little something everyday about whatever, something that happened to you, a memory, somebody rude you encountered, something that made you smile, or just what youre might be more interesting than you think. Just remember that whoever reads it or is listening is not inside your head so you have to describe it as best as you can with that in mind. The problem with writing is that most people try to force it into something before it ever is anything. You should let your thoughts flow, let the words build and grow, let the characters form a soul, let it all spill out first. It doesnt have to be poetry, it might just become it."

I'm not even following my own advice. I wanted to write more because Stacy told me she started to read my blog and it made me feel good. I forgot that kind of connection. I miss school mostly because I was forced to write and even when I had a massive foot noted beast to write, I wrote poems and other things about my life as a means of procrastination. Why do I lack so much discipline? I don't like being told what I should do. Even if I'm telling it to myself. My writing teacher last year told me I should never start a sentence like that last one I wrote. Well I like it. It's dramatic. D for disobedience for that.

It doesn't all have to be fucking poetry! I like a seasoned swear word here and there. It's like adding some pepper but if you use too much, it's not good. I would get so excited when my Shakespeare teacher would swear because I knew she really meant it. If every other word you use in your vocabulary is a swear word I'm not really sure what you mean...

I'm going to try to write something every day...even if I don't publish's for me...and it doesnt have to be doesnt have to be FUCKing poetry

but I love you. (You)

so I won't stop writing if you please won't stop reading