October 2010
1 post
Day 281: Prose: I like writing about holding...
If we held hands with brass knuckles, it wouldn’t make it any less romantic. Just us. In our raggedy tshirts And calloused feet Trespassing over lines we didn’t think possible. Waited years to find them, And dove At the chance. We are young. Meeting somewhere in the middle of broken hearted And hearts on our forearms So much so, That we are rocking in rhythm. Shut up. I...
August 2010
33 posts
Dear Followers,
I went on vacation to Austin, TX about a week ago. It was quite the earned holiday. I have overworked myself this summer. I’m still taking photos, but never uploading any of them. I have a lot of catch up to do in terms of writing.
As soon as I got back, I started my Fall semester of uni. It is quite the overwhelming workload. And of course still working my 2 regular jobs.
I have not given...
Day 227: Prose: Hey Frickin Sweetheart.
I am not your key to alternative lifestyles. To groups of people with illustrations lining their body Or jewelry adorning their skin. I’m not some token white girl with an attitude. Or the girl I want you to take home to mama. I’m not your ticket to underground poetry scenes Or obscure music communities. Just let me be the cute girl With a dimple and curly hair.
Day 226: Prose: Conejos.
They let me call them mis conejos.
And the more I do,
the more they seem to like it.
Some of them call me colocha
Or corazon.
We know our boundaries.
But when they call me novia,
I get a little violent.
Day 225: Prose: Somewhere Someone
Somewhere someone is knocking on the last door they will every touch. Prepared with a speech they came up with in the shower that day. And little do they know they won’t say more than a few words, Before it’s all swept away in front of their faces. Their eyelids will be covered in soil, Shovel-full by shovel-full.
Day 224: Rhetorical Question: Have we evolved to...
This morning, after my shower, I got to thinking. If species evolve so that their bodies work to obtain only the things they need, and humans are attracted to other beings on chemical levels for different reasons- then have we evolved to have soul mates? Like, as a race, are we meant to be predestined to be with one person? While we don’t need others to survive, it does make life happier to...
Day 223: Prose: Waves.
He stood on the end of the jetty Waiting for tidal waves to come crashing in. Splayed his arms and winced his eyes As the salty winds blew about him. His tears were saltier still. Patiently idle.
Day 222: Prose: Clouds?
Tonight the clouds had a hard time deciding on whether to stay rain clouds or take a stretch break and float elsewhere. They were white and took up half the sky. Their contrast was magnified by the street construction. And I never felt so small before. I’ve stood in vast fields and I’ve watched meteor showers. But the fog clouds were huge. And they loomed over the houses in such a way...
Day 221: Prose: Bar top.
The bottle opener tapped its food on the mahogany counter top. Hands, though sweaty and nervous, remain dormant. Elbows tap each other innocently. House speakers blare past the TV announcers. Eyesight remains inconsistent. Tongues are continuously chewed upon. Feet dangle.
Day 220: Prose: Defeated.
Today felt like failure. Today felt like an actual day of work. I paced the Wegman’s wine section for 20 minutes. Checking alcohol percentages and mLs. A trip to the ABC store was better suited for a deserved night. I did my best not to think. Just pour, stir, slosh, and drink. Squash-buckle with my sister. Laugh with my mother. And go to sleep early.
Day 219: Prose: Glitter.
The shattered glass shone like glitter in the headlights. What was once part of a safely traveling family was reduced to rubble on the streets. The glitter looked mystical and pleasantly surprising as I pulled into my neighborhood. It made me smile. I pushed the thoughts of what part of the car it must have gone to. And how quickly it took for each passenger to realize they were thinking their...
Day 217: Prose: Lonesome Shopping.
I prefer the nights when I shop on my own. When I can feel like no one watches me. The humidity can fuck up my hair And the sweat can leave marks on my shirt. But who the fuck cares. I can pick up the most embarrassing CDs And still feel human. I can wander in circles without anyone asking when we’ll be done. I used to be too afraid to go out on my own. Until I realized it’s better...
Day 216: Prose: Whose Summer?
Saying it was a beautiful mistake would have taken too long. Instead, we just made sure we didn’t do it again. There wasn’t much to learn that summer. But there were certainly things we could have lived without. Like the nights when the humidity made it too hard to breathe and walk at the same time. So we walked in silence. Or the nights we could hear the frogs chirping from the forest...
Day 215: Prose: I Didn't Think She Noticed.
Half the time she comes to camp, She’s too shy to say hello. Whether she is my student or not. Some days she shows me her flower she picked, And others, she crumples it in her hand. But once, She gave it to me. Today she was shy. I thought I’d hold out for the next day. But on the playground, She remembered she liked me. She lifted her hands to the sky and said, Up! So I placed my...
Day 214: Prose: Public Restrooms.
As I used the trashcan in the public restroom, I noticed the pregnancy test with the purple cap on the end. I looked around. Wondering if it was anyone of my coworkers, Or one of the young teenage volunteers. And I remember those days. Skipping last class To hop a bus downtown to the Planned Parenthood. Buying pregnancy tests in other states, So as not to leave any trails. The fear and shame are...
Day 213: Prose: Gems.
My body wanted me up at 530. Thirteen hours later, after pre-schoolers and 2nd graders, I was standing in front of a cash register. Asking people if they wanted their food for here or to go. I kept up my energy as much as possible. Just using inflection. Lying to myself and my customers about my disposition. A man got his food to go. And I assured him we would put his rice crispy treat in his to...
Day 212: Prose: Timezones.
I saw the sun coming up through your window from across the world. Mine was sinking harder and harder into my side. And you were starting to stir, I was just climbing into bed and pulling the sheets around my neck. I’m sure in our unconsciousness, We tossed and turned simultaneously. Maybe even dreamt too.
[This wasn’t supposed to sound creepy.]
Day 211: List: Childhood.
Car tents. Transformer tents. Pear trees in the back yard. Stray cats. Sticks as swords. Sticky nights with sirens. Ramones on the radio. Barbecues at the lake. Beating each other with toys. Stuffed tigers. Setting the table. Smiles. Kiss-tag. Hot chocolate. LA Light shoes.
July 2010
64 posts
Day 210: Prose: Glass in my eye.
I’ve got glass in my eye. And I’ve been trying to tell you since middle school that toe rings weren’t cool. And even after every cup of coffee, When we said we wouldn’t smoke much longer, We found every reason to sneak out of the diner and puff in front of the trash can. And after the SATs And every shot of Crown and juice, Circle of death on New Years Eve, We still managed...
Day 209: Prose: The Moon Hung Lower.
The moon hung lower tonight than it has in a while. And I told it to mind it’s business. To not ask questions of where I’ve been, who I’ve been with, or how I got here. It pushed the clouds out of the way, faster than tornadoes develop in the flatlands. Sinking lower and lower til it was staring me in the face. And I stuck out my tongue, flipped it off and said, “Quit...
Day 208: Prose: 6am
The alarm clock is in full uproar fashion by 6am. Rolling out of bed has never been enjoyable. Til I started working with kids. Now I don’t waste time. My coffee is steaming in my sore hands by 730 and my shoes are on by 8. By 9, I have tiny, warm, fidgety bodies in my arms. Sometimes flailing. Sometimes clinging. But by the time they leave my grasp, always smiling. It’s not easy....
Day 207: Prose: The Girls in the Front Row.
I stood in front of them in line. Noticed their cynical comments And decided at that point That those girls Were worth sticking by. They were young, Still dressing in shorts a bit too short And tops that didn’t really go with them. I quietly laughed at all their remarks And finally let them in on the secrets of the trade. I stood next to them inside. Made sure no one in the crowd Was...
Day 206: Prose: Pea Pod.
Put me in your pea pod. But I want it all to myself. Zip it up the seam And place me in a plastic bag On a wet paper towel. Watch me wrap around And grow. But when I’m pushing at the top Let me out And grow elsewhere.
i shouldnt write when i’ve been up for 20 hours.
Day 205: Prose: Their Feet.
They can’t believe their feet as they step on to the grass. Side stepping through boulders, Letting the grass glide between their toes. They cried. Laid near the sand And tossed their way to the sea. Dodging sea shells by the sea shore. Doing hand stands on coral reefs.
massive headache and camera battery dead. doesn’t seem meant to be. will update tomorrow.
Day 204: Poem: Wine and Music.
We sweat out all of our moisture And replenished it with wine. We swirl Charval in our glasses As the sun berates our skin Making sure we don’t dance too hard Or sing too loudly. The bugs cling to our sticky skin As we sway in the inconsistent breezes. Tapping our feet And twirling in sun dresses. Letting the moonlight and music Entangle our hair.