create

person: I would do anything to make you happy. You're a good person and your smile is a reward for me.

Mon, 09 Apr 2012 00:14:49 -0400

person: I would do anything to make you happy. You're a good person and your smile is a reward for me.
person: you deserve to be happy
me: how are you a real human

this will be my new personal blog

Wed, 28 Mar 2012 18:21:59 -0400

i intend to write here every day. i hope its worth it.

your poems are really inspiring, don't ever stop

Thu, 15 Mar 2012 14:28:52 -0400

woah. thank you… now i’m flattered & paranoid o.o

(goodnight poem)

Sun, 03 Jul 2011 18:53:00 -0400

tonight, we are happy little things

spilling love

on the 24th floor

on a fold-out couch bed

candy & red bamboo leftovers

careful kisses on my stitched lips

on the subway

i can lean my head on your shoulder

like those other couples i watch when i’m alone

but you are here and you tell me to close my eyes

because its bright and

you brought me disco-lights & smiley face rings

a funeral.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:22:24 -0400

a funeral.

Photo

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:21:31 -0400

Photo

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:21:08 -0400

found piece, text messages.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:21:00 -0400

found piece, text messages.

childhood.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:20:40 -0400

childhood.

a memory, an artifact

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:20:00 -0400

a memory, an artifact

collaboration with debbie a. written via facebook chat. stylized...

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:19:29 -0400

collaboration with debbie a. written via facebook chat. stylized + reformatted.

for rebecca black, for the lulz.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:18:28 -0400

for rebecca black, for the lulz.

found piece, crafted using only prepositional phrases from...

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:18:06 -0400

found piece, crafted using only prepositional phrases from various texts

found piece, crafted out of lines from various books.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:17:29 -0400

found piece, crafted out of lines from various books.

for lady gaga, given to her may 2011.

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:16:43 -0400

for lady gaga, given to her may 2011.

rhythm experiment, written to the pace of regina spektor’s...

Mon, 20 Jun 2011 02:03:56 -0400

rhythm experiment, written to the pace of regina spektor’s song “a cannon”

silly poems & revisions

Wed, 24 Nov 2010 11:09:00 -0500

the blood of my prey no longer sustains
this beast, lying in the sun
trapped, i life my eyes to
the clouds. i need you
can you come down here?

white and fluffy
you are my polar opposite
shifting shapes like piles of snow
dancing across the sky
i struggle across the ice
my tired blackened claws clunk
as i try to find my next meal

sometimes, when i’m resting
you play tricks on me
and i think i see myself in you
flying with you

how i wish i were
white and weightless
to float, to die, in one effortless breeze
my lungs ache to breathe you
carry me away
in one painless swooping flight

white and soft
you look like my mother
my mother who drowned in the sea - she left
me all alone - i watched her
majestic white fur disappear
and the sun laughed

but you defended her
i watched as a cub
you fought to obscure the rays
the fires that opened up the ice beneath her

won’t you come down here?
let me become you
i cannot live in this land
forever dissolving

i am trapped
you are all that i have
a sea surrounds as the sun destroys
all i’ve ever known

o clouds, where have you gone
i need you
my heavy limbs have cracked the surface
the ice is melting
the sun is laughing

a place

Wed, 24 Nov 2010 00:30:12 -0500

i needed a job so i took it. i tried to forget where it was.
the empty school ground stuck in time, dead wood chips, purple slides
- - even the air smells like 2005

for two months i watched little bodies play with ghosts.
5 year olds, they were born when were were
when we fell so in love, when this brick building,
this silent playground became our world

i tried to stop them i shouted girls! you must not go outside
the playground is filled with ghosts, they will attack!

but they ran ahead of me, out the red doors that were left unlocked one night
where we ran through the dark dark halls dragging our fingers across clanging lockers
and drinking nesquick from the teachers lounge.
where we spun in circles on gym floors stars sparking in the windows
sparking in our stomachs holding each other and speaking in romantic movie quotes

I shielded my eyes as the ghosts flew at me
I knew this job would kill me, I knew it would take me back back back
our tangled teenage bodies left on the rooftop
forgotten sizzling in thick august air.
like our hands, when we first climbed up there
like our eyes, slightly closer to the sun, hinging low in the lavender sky
shooting fire and tongue into each others mouths
when you kissed me for the first time and said
is this how we’re supposed to do it?

for two months i watched little bodies ignore the ghosts
ghosts on the swingset where we pumped higher and higher
til the rain clouds moved in and sent us running thru the
gray fields filled with geese, huddling us together under willow trees
carved with our names, “forever forever”

for two months i watched little bodies trample the ghosts
less and less they flew at my eyes.
sitting on the wobbly blue bridge, staring at the same sky same roof
my eyes filled with tears, they float off my skin and dissolve for the last time
i knew this job would kill you would make you
just a building.

illgresi

Wed, 24 Nov 2010 00:27:18 -0500

this song is my minute on the silver screen, when everything slows, when the camera zooms out and shows my car, a silent blot moving up and across, along the same road as before, as in the opening scene, the simply named ocean avenue with green jersey waters out to my left, floating back out of view, thick fog of hot summerstorm sweet honeysuckle fills my mouth as the night sets in the orange moon rising in a panoramic view with the clouds sped up for dramatic effect as they scurry off screen leaving the moon to glow…i appear at the corner, my car stops and the engine slows i exit like a mermaid on to the same same street named neptune, the navy sky inhaled through my nostrils. by the way i walk the audience can see i have been here before i walk to the edge when the moon is out to see if you are there to sit on the same flat rock above the sea with the rushing crashing atlantic filled with trash and seagulls swimming screaming and there, i see him, the camera focuses in on a shadow - down on the rocks further out, he squeints at me through the fog “is that you? “its me” “i’d recognize that foofy hair anywhere” this song filters in as the soundtrack plays a slow background track spinning behind our skulls this song was our moment it meant so much now and now it appears like a breeze, like nothing at all. we smile at each other with no tears and no love and the audience cries.

in the dark theater

we watch from afar the band

plays in soft soft blue light

it sounds like us

and i f l o a t

my head drifts slow slow to your shoulder

my eyes drift to sleep

i feel the warmth of your blood, glow into my skin

i see your mouth curl into a tiny smile

i hear your quiet laugh at my

tangled curls stuck on your stubbly face

you brush the hair away from my eyes…

the smiling tears that come with such peace

family

Tue, 29 Jun 2010 01:12:00 -0400

my family and i drove around town on a rabid search for an ice cream store so my mother could get a “baby-size” vanilla soft serve cone with sprinkles. she wanted it and we had to find it. While I stared out the backseat window, through the trickles of rain, through the layers of clouds into the setting sun - the car stopped. “Go ask them if they have vanilla custard”. “Its not called custard, Mom - its soft-serve.” My brother exits the vehicle in a huff. He didn’t want to come with us on this “family outing”. He returns with a large cup of ice cream. I hear my mother whisper “Where’s the cone? If there’s no cone I’ll die”. I continue staring at the beads of rain on my window, noticing each car that passes through its distorted lens.

It always feels like a strange dream…sitting in the back of my parents car, seat-belted & knees stuck. my legs don’t fit anymore. I feel like an oversized child. On the way to school. Always on the left side of the car, my side since I was a baby. Ikey sits on the right. It was like that in our baby carriage too. I feel pulled back in time.

“He didn’t get a cone”

My mom throws a fit. Ikey runs back and transfers the melting sprinkled covered blob into a cone.

He returns: slams the car door, scoffs heavily. I watch and realize there is no way to express anger or frustration while handing someone an ice cream cone. It was a comedic transfer of food. A slightly held-back yet forceful shove of the cone in my mothers general direction. “HERE!” he rolls his eyes.

All for nothing, the sprinkles taste weird

My brother eats it.