Popcorn Day

Silent in this coffeeshop
mocha-infused nostrils
smoothing hands on the wooden table
waiting for life to unfold

for life to make sense again.

the buildings slouch together like siblings on a couch
watching the same television show

the locals shiver in flip-flops and overcoats
smoking their cloves
blowing their words into the air

the children march in school uniforms,
teachers and parents bobbing beside them
brown bags of popcorn bunched in their hands

the children toss their laughter in the air
one kernel at a time
their handfuls of chatter
thrown fast at each other

the adults munch solemnly
some staring ahead
some staring down to observe
to envelop
the chatter decorating their faces
like strings of lights on an evergreen

and I remember what it was like to feel
in my hometown.


Orion straddles the rooftops

The underside of night
and I am throwing away boxes
that held pieces of my old life

and there you are,
as I’m tiptoeing back from the dumpster
careful to hop over the puddles that gather
to the terra cotta steps that lead me to new.

You are straddling the rooftops
bringing to me a punchy light
watching me as I stare up into your vulnerability.

Now you are the action hero
sandwiched between two buildings
risking your life to save the victim

Now you are the kitchen maiden
holding up her skirts as she walks to the privy
squatting over dignity

Now you are the normal
the everyday warrior

toppled from your pedestal stamp on the sky
shoehorned into the sliver I can see.

Now you are again my Orion

a constant backdrop to my altars
a wink to the fathers of my youth

peeking in to check on me
and watching as I stare into my vulnerability.

The swingset

Unable to resist
the crunch of the mulch
the slinky whisper of stones
or the coughing of sand
beneath my feet.

Unable to resist
the chapped lips and chafed hands
the rusted stink and slivers of wear
the chain link of swing and rubberband seat

Unable to resist
the reach of shoes to sun
the ignorance of gravity and gloat
watching the uncemented posts of the swingset float

Unable to resist
the back and forth
the universe showing me off like a yo-yo
practicing me to go “around the world”
but stuck on “walk the dog”
and “you are getting very sleepy”

When I was swinging at 7
I used to wonder about someone else
swinging just like me
at just this moment
at just this point in the world reversed

I now walk to each pair of swings
and look for the holes in the mulch where the set would come apart
and wake the world to my knowledge
that it was me I was wondering
me who would be swinging just like me
at just this moment

unable to resist
that the world reversed
was just a reflection
of time.

Cover Me

Find the quilt, the brown and orange and plum colored
blanket of ancient
musty scent of laughter
the late nights of tv and the sound of mother.

Find the plaid shirts, the chenille
the green hoodie, the purple socks
find the bright highlighter yellow hat
bury me inside.

Find me in the bottom of a slide
the hot metal ones they banned
so kids don’t burn their flesh
find me sliding down on my knees to entertain
bald knees and enjoy the pain
of knowing when a mistake has been made.

Find me a rope tied to your wrist
one I can grab onto
find me a sprained ankle bone as I skip over railroad ties in the road
only to catch my heel on the curb.

Find me in your words, your crystallized gems
your piles of shit-soaked linen lines
your Starbucks dirges where you wish you had not drank the milk

for fear of irritating the membranes of your flesh paragraphs.

Find me a suit of grey silk, wrap me in one of those purple scarves
I can’t seem to find a need for
bury me in my Zara coat, the black one with bells of elegance

find me a snowdrift in the midst of this heat
this gorgeous weather any autumn would be jealous
any winter storm would follow in any other time zone
find me in the weather.

Find me the means to keep my flesh hidden
my pink and raw
my nipples flaccid and belly flopping
my wrinkles spilling into my nubile longing

my arms seeping with aching and knowing
my insides churning in my stomach.
Find the means to keep together

find me the keep
find me the cover.

4am Ponderings on Text Messages Received at Noon

Lying in this moonlight
I am flooded with images

Why the night can’t be too dark
the moon refuses to let the night pitch
into complete blackness

and I am grateful

as my thoughts pour in to try and stamp out the light.

Why can’t you understand I am a different person now?
What is keeping you in this way of life?

What is the point-

What is more upsetting
that you thought I had always been honest
or that you still read into what I say?

Nevermind, I know the reason
I reacted this way to your statement

because I was staring into a picture of me
when I heard you say it.

But I don’t know how

I want to write you this poem,
but I don’t know how.

In the undercurrent
of sticky situations and unfiltered guttural rambling,
I am still that woman.

I am still looking at you from behind the mirror,
still tracing the skin on your body
still wishing I could make it all disappear.

I am still looking at your eyes, still pinching the eyelids back
wondering what you would look like
without those skinbags hogging all the eyespace.

I want to love you more now than I ever have,
but I don’t know how.

I know you irk me, and you constantly say things that I wish you wouldn’t.
You behave in a way I don’t understand
but I’m still here.

We will never be alone this way,
but that’s not really the issue, is it?

Long Live the Con

Since August, I have been working for a startup where my editing and writing talents can be utilized appropriately. Applying to work with a company that is extracurricular to my paying job doesn’t seem like something everyone would do. But when I found it, I was looking for a more fulfilling role than the one I currently have. I was looking for a purpose, trying to carve a little spot in the internet world for myself. I haven’t had the easiest time dong this in the past, and especially recently, I have been feeling like my worth and purpose were dependent too much upon others, and not enough on myself.

Enter this role. I have been given a chance to let my natural talents shine, and I felt after the first few weeks that my outlook about myself was improving, simply because I was given a chance. I have made new friends and business contacts, and feel like being part of something that could potentially be explosive fills me not only with inspiration, but the courage to keep making my own dreams come true. To give myself another chance.

I have seen the effect it has had on my life, and how funny it can seem to have one swift slam of a door be enough wind to push another wide open. How funnier when I then can turn around and find the slammed door was never locked in the first place, and perhaps could be opened again, letting in the sweetest smelling breeze my house has ever known.

This weekend marked the first of three comic-cons where we will begin promoting our startup. We are halfway into the first, and I am learning so much already. I am feeling that the public interest garnered over these weekends will be invaluable, and I can only hope that the now shared dream of ours can be fully achieved.

Stay tuned.