lucille clifton

"adam thinking" she stolen from my bone is it any wonder i hunger to tunnel back inside desperate to reconnect the rib and clay and to be whole again some need is in me struggling to roar through my mouth into a name this creation is so fierce i would rather have been born

"eve thinking" it is wild country here brothers and sisters coupling claw and wing groping one another i wait while the clay two-foot rumbles in his chest searching for language to call me but he is slow tonight as he sleeps i will whisper into his mouth our names

waiting for inspiration is an excuse not to write - kevin prufer

paste flowers on ambitious pavements.
photocopy the distance between us.
i’m borderline bipolar
and concrete taste similar to hell.
photocopy the distance between us.

my limbs are too short
and concrete ash taste similar to hell.
needles scratch at stained windows.
my limbs are too short

you kiss like glass
needles scratch at stained windows
just borrow my spleen if it’s that important
you kiss like glass

i can count the cuts by the frown lines
just borrow my spleen if it’s that important
everything’s falling apart now
i can count the cuts by the frown lines

i’m borderline bipolar.
everything’s falling apart, now.



my version pantoum

runaway.

take me back to that place, i’ve forgotten the way.
to marvel at the tree blossoms
and say, my how beautiful. the air is so sweet here.
your hands were so big my face became lost in the
lines. I miss those times. I miss that place.
we ran away together, but you’re a liar.

i know these people

S: I know how to sign the alphabet.
A: I know how to stack!
S: You would.
A: My best friend growing up became a blood and I started theater.
M: I like how those seem to be the only choices. Theater or be a blood...no middle ground.
Me: [laughing]

#pjm with 17-5

just a little touch

they say waking up
with a bruise means
a dead person touched you.

well, i hope heaven
sent me an angel.
and the aching-red
means even in after
life, those dear
have not forgotten..
        come down
                come back
leave impressions
on skin
that leave impressions
on waking eyes.

dear hands that score skin
tallying away the lines
that continue to divide

when i sleep
        come down
                come back
let us remember
that mortal and you
contact may ache and red
but so gentle the embrace
        come down
                come back
now unmarked skin will leave me lonely

liberal arts college. we don't need a starbucks. we got a swing

[ring ring] hello. i'm in class, i'll call you back

i feel bad for people that sit next to me in class.
this stumbling, constantly fumbling fool.
no desk can ever quiet contain
me. my folder. my two notebooks. whatever overpriced book required. my phone. three pens at least.
it's always

→ take out folder and open it (like a base)

→ then both notebooks (they should be open as well, one on top of the other)
[one notebook for notes; the other for the chatter in my head]

→ then look for a pen (MAKE AS MUCH NOISE AS NEEDED)
[roll is being taken by now]

→ find pen! (oh, there was a pen in my notebook)
[class lecture begins....]

→ pull out phone to function as paperweight

→ take dedicated notes........SOMETHING RANDOM....other notebook
[45 minutes later...blah blah blah]

→ check phone & one notebook falls

[someone else pulls it up..not to be helpful i serve as a perfect excuse to distract from lecture]

class ends. i'm a mess. stuff is everywhere. time to put it all away again. sheesh.

things i want to do tomorrow but probably won't

1. tomorrow, i want to walk into roy cullen and hear "bottle pop" by the pussycat dolls come on and successfully perform a choreographed dances with strangers.
2. i want to say something profound in class.
3. in the 15 minutes between my two classes i want to write down everything i've been meaning to write for the past year.
4. i want to stand up in my creative writing class and confess my love for the only white guy in the corner, the other asian (not the one with the mohawk) and my teacher
5. i want t osay something in class.
6. wake up on time and find the "perfect parking spot"
7. tomorrow night, i hope i remember all my lines and deliver the best performance of my life, i want to make the audience cry like on the first night of my performances.
8. oh, and also want to be hungry for breakfast. and someone will have made me grits and i'll meet joshua bennett even though he's in london, but that doesn't matter cause things can happen. and they can happen to me

if only..

who in the hell knows

it's the 3rd
and the taste of vomit has
carried over from the day before.
images of whataburger. watermelon. water and bile
in the sink. in the toliet. in the bathtub.in a shoe box.

and all i really want is a hoodie.
and not feel as if my insides feel like i'm a misfire
and want to make a run for it.
i want me, inside. thinner but that sickly.

picture me in death's corner.
mixing stomach acid and tears
as if to create a gumbo of yesterday seemed so much brighter.
pushing, in a world where wishing means nothing.

those days when fairly tales pages are stuck together
and tile floors chill bones
a hoodie would be helpful

my creative writing teacher remarked i have odd punctuation.

uhh oh,

i have an obsessive pull towards
stripes
nothing we should be too worried about, just yet
i mean stripes are nice people.
they don't vote in major elections
..and them can make you look
like a bubble bee or an inmate
but they are essentially harmless, right?
i hope.

somedays i'm only present in body. absent of mind, of course. most days i'm not really here. most days i'm not sure how i get anywhere.

present only in body, deserted by rational thought. always daydreaming. always leaving my brain. and nobody ever notices, and i can never wake up.

i want to write a book titled
The Mission: Return the Dress for Store Credit

it's a drama.

daddy's parking lot sermon

you know the saying?

teach a man to fish, right?


teach me how to french braid my hair, and save me anymore hair disappointments

THEY ARE TAKING OVER!

just breathe.

why hadn’t I
thought of it before?
this body,
remembering yours,
is the keepsake you left.
— izumi shikibu [untitled]

my reaction:
#POW
(in my professor’s words: exit wound
to be absorbed so deeply in another,
literally, giving yourself to them,
that once they leave
your own self
serves as a constant reminder of the seperate person.

how devestatingly beautiful and (un)contrive [depending on the person’s feelings.

mr. perfect

The Niceguys "Mr. Perfect" from Evesborough Films on Vimeo.

SO,
i guess it is time to wash off
summer
&&get ready for school tomorrow.

ya. not even the least bit ready for this..

i remembered school started monday

...and this is what happened.

fall 2010: blazers and white nailpolish

this song is stuck in my heard, thanks express.

You wait three days till you call my number
And you take a week to ask me out.
Let the game be a mystery,
And we wait two weeks to hit the town.
Then, I pretend like I don't want you back so,
You'll come running after me...
I'll play it cool and turn down your offer
So your burning at the center of the sea

Baby won't you come to my house sir.

get me out the galleria.

the remains
left over
from a day that never existed.
a place never seen.

i want to be there,
desperate to go there.

to go on in the wind

obsessed!

new job!

so i googled-houston writing jobs.
and the examiner.com showed up...
long story stored i was hired!!
&&i write stories about accessories in the montrose neighborhood

it's exciting and scary, i'm more like terrified.
and now i have to do all this stuff to advertise and then do research and after that think of quirky ideas.

and i can feel myself trying to sabotage this opportunity.

argh,
i'm trying to convince myself i'm filled with words and ideas. and i love shopping! so it can't be too hard, eh?

Montrose Accessories Examiner. (click above, it's a link:subscribe, help!)

houstonians do it best!

montrose has the best art pieces from local artist

the woman that painted this let's her kids add their handprints
but they are all so beautiful

after all i've heard/seen in the past 2 weeks.
i'm sure there are only 2 straight men left in the city.
welp!

my reply to obama sucks stickers

Johnson SUCKED
Nixon SUCKED
Ford SUCKED
Carter SUCKED
Reagan SUCKED
Bush SUCKED
Bush SUCKED

analogy time!

woman’s shoes is to a man’s __________.

hint?


hat
it’s been said women get dressed for other women.
well, guys wear hats for other guys…cause i don’t notice.
flipback.team logo.city sign.
it all goes over my head [excuse the pun]
if it goes with what you’re wearing….great!
does it pass some logo to jean to belt ratio or is making the right statement.
uhhh……suuuuuuuuure….it’s black with white writing [grins walks away]

sometimes the best way to see the world
is with one eye closed
and the other looking through a lens
seeing forever
too bad i continue to buy clothes
and not my camera

so for now i’ll remain in this altered reality
realizing i’m not seeing the whole picture

american woman: fashioning a national identity

wish i was there

creoles
as if they'd all come in one car ride down i-10e

yayaya for today!

today was a great day

traveling a city-ours for the taking.
friends and food.
rain with joy.
as we watched the rain trickle down from the sky,
landing on stone tables
we ate together. sharing stories and sushi roll.
laughing, celebrating my birthday.
my friends are the bestest.

happy 20th birthday to myself

i can usually find a cute cupcake or balloon picture for everyone else's birthday,
but i couldn't find any i liked for my birthday.

until i looked through my computer
and this picture has the best people and cake

happy birthday

things i liked as a nineteen-year-old

welcome,

this is my city

and meet my roll dog.

the mind of a sick person.

settling never tasted so good.

so i was one of the first mall testers to have a yogurt fruz
&&it was free

everyone knows i wanted a pinkberry
well, berripop and this are close enough
plus,
they set up shop right outside express
but
i won't go now though
they have a major line.

sickness. it's a disease.

day two of body aching, head pounding
when i sit still, i fell me throbbing.

in a way it's kind of inspiring-
enlightening.
when i get sick, i want to remember what well feels like.
and how i don't know a day without a headache
until i have a headache.

like sometimes when i go shopping. i stop. and ask myself.
what do i like. and then it becomes impossible for me to find anything else to buy.

i confuse myself.
ouch. my chest is tightening now.

makes me wonder if people denied love feel this kind of sick, this kind of aching.

july is for birthdays sneaking into bars

who knew i'd miss html?!

i don't get to manipulate text. alignment. nada

happy birthday constance.

today is my eldest sister's birthday.
i would have given her a picture of cake or cupcake or balloons.
but she's a diva. so i had to do something different.