; however,

Weird, Surreal, Odd

2010-07-07T11:50:00.002-05:00

this is weird. weird: involving the supernatural. fantastic, bizarre. controlling fate, destiny! the drive was easy, smooth. the driving within portland and its outskirts is out-of-this-world. these people can't drive worth a shit! and, then, no one honks, yells, blares music. no one does anything to tell someone they are a shitty ass driver. do i confirm with my atmosphere or disrupt it and do it big rockford west side style?! disrupt.

the only person who had music playing loudly was some motorcyclist who just turned of the highway. and i have seen black people. i went to target yesterday and borders right now. i saw a total of 5. now what, flatlanders; ya'll racists. i sent out a few more applications last night via AmeriCorps. i edited and posted an old poem; i wrote a new one. then i'm gonna piss, smoke a cig, get a coffee, and work more on school stuff. oh, i also sent a bitchy email to my bank. i emailed yesterday about changing the address on my account; she emailed me back in an unnecessary tone about contacting customer support. i emailed her back and said i did contact customer support. if you aren't it, then why'd you reply? and how do i contact the "right" customer support. i think i may have banking issues very soon :)

On Leaving

the girlchild feigned ignorance, feigned intelligence, feigned love
lived secrets even gravity couldn’t hold onto
adolescence took way, mood swings ravaged mental stability
nourished the stagnant puddle.
she began jumping the puddle like: whowhatwhenwherewhy?!
soon it became a vast ocean of ideas;
people gathered, created.

a pyramid loomed in the horizon;
the sunrise painted the sky over our heads an
iridescent fire redyellow-orange! as the cardinals, the chickadees
greeted the world in morning calls.
earth rumbled, gravity unsteadied its
steadfast self. tree branches shivered, broke, tumbled
tumbled onto fresh topsoil. the oceans awoke with
ferocious waves hugging us madly.

an ocean stands like a puddle without shore
people fly between waves,
solid earth their destination. no pyramid, but
the ocean, the ocean
how beautiful in this beginning.
nothing like the beginning, like no end.

On The First Time I Buried A Student

2010-07-07T11:31:00.001-05:00

love can only go so far
it won’t reach six feet more or
before or after as though this whole ordeal is
about me and my sadness of
young lives wasted
to the streets, the drugs, the money
to things of little to no importance
to an upbringing so vastly different than mine

yes, this was always about me and my childhood
how i died in angst, flourished in creative depression
and when did his opportunities begin
at birth. WHY DID I HAVE A CHANCE
why should I be alive?
why should I be alive and not him? why at 17 should you be pronounced brain dead?

when did you die? when did you really die?
this shouldn’t be hard. not at all.
but somehow it is.

it’s raining outside. the sky looks clear. and the prospects vast.
you’re in the ground. a corpse.

Grief

2010-06-19T22:12:00.002-05:00

Grief
for Jody N.

how does one write about grief?
silence’s melody penetrates ear drums
leaving the hearer deaf, numb to its calling.
friends and family are blurred like a monet
masterpiece with colors swaying to and fro
engaging in love and memories.

the arms of strangers envelope the lost in
insecure tragedy. what to do. to say.
to think. how can I help? i’m sorry to
hear that.
…sorry?

do you hear that? there it goes again.
the melody vacuums your air and releases it
stunningly onto skin into throat between lashes
your lover has left you everything. gave everything.
took everything. and here, her silence, is everything.

how does one write about grief?
simple.
one doesn’t.

Savor

2010-01-17T12:26:00.001-06:00

savor

kiss fingertips savor its
writer’s bump, crooked nail
unpolished, mishandled.
hands roughed in experience
wrists widening, solid
rough elbows scrubbed scrubbed scrubbed
raw

bumps tread
the way to adjoining, imposing
disillusionment to another seems
smooth, humble.

grass tips play on neck’s ledge
run. run. run.
hair fondles knuckles grasp
rage. liquid. melt.
tears meet tips
meet lips, meet okay.
comfort comes as day breaks.

Resolutions in Full Swing

2010-01-04T19:15:00.002-06:00

i said i would write 4 times a week. i think this may begin to seem like homework, but, when i recall my JuneBug experience, this will do me good. i may have to venture into my writing prompt book once i locate it. watts?!

today was the first day back from break. remarkably, it was a decent day. i'm just that much closer to an acceptance letter and that much closer to being gone. okay i'm done and this counts.

if you venture to this tonight or in tomorrow's time, i miss you. i will stay up until 11:30 to talk with you. yes, 11:30 IS tremendously late.

i can do a dance that will make the sky cry blood.

On Dying

2009-12-30T21:24:00.002-06:00

On Dying

the embers shiver, whisper
sentiments on lust, lessons
on passion-nostalgia deepens
as life stagnates, bowing
to the angels.

vulnerability looms over the
horizon, mother earth smiles, and
the dance provokes the sky
to cry blood.

an infant baby wails
disturbing peace, disrupting order,
creating chaos in the air, in the
comfort of our home.

precarious puberty too good
not good enough too good
not good the scales teeter on
an oak’s branch listening to the wind
for, surely, she knows the way.

panic is mistaken for adrenaline
adventures are taken for stupidty
plan b’s are nonexistent
we’ll all be beautiful today
together.

you have to go a little crazy before you go anywhere. i need to practice taking that insatiabile, dire urge to be free and somehow mold it into a poem. this just isn't working. no, not yet.

New Year's Resolutions

2009-12-30T00:24:00.002-06:00

it's damn near 2010. you know what that means: resolution time! i did fairly well with my '09 ones. i "bought" a car. i moved out. saving money and getting out of debt...*scratches head*... this is america. c'mon, people.

for 2010, i resolute to...

make a monthly budget and stick to it
cut back the amount of sugar i consume
worry less
write four times a week, at least
go on an adventure

i'm putting these in writing because i tend to take things more seriously when they are written down. they become concrete, a promise held in the highest regard, a revelation of my hopes and dreams, a challenge to do what i wrote.

On Programming The Coffee Pot Just For You

2009-12-30T00:18:00.002-06:00

On Programming The Coffee Pot Just For You
(that one morning that feels like today)

classic roast stealthily intrudes on
mid morning slumber (timothy! the sun shakes you)
the body moves vicariously, the mind
remains in bed comforted in warmth

in bed, she remains moaning
“uuuggghhhhh” (erica! the sun shakes her)
the stream of liquid hit a washed
cup that looks more like a handled-bowl

tink, tink, tink the spoon taps the side of the handled-bowl
two full of splenda, three of creamer (the love shakes you)
the cup sits on the glass to cool slightly
you check your internet things that you check in the morning

the bed springs creak slightly as she moves
directive to the bathroom, agenda one
hands rested on your shoulders, a kiss on the cheek
followed with good morning wishes (the love shakes her).

This is one of those poem's that isn't for the world. It's really only for him, but I wanted to post it as a record. Ummm...in case some scandalous record recorder is out there recording scandals that appeared on a weblog of some foreign looking woman. I'm going to bed now in hopes of having tomorrow's morning as planned. But who sticks to plans anyways? The wind will whisper the way.

Modest

2009-12-24T09:45:00.001-06:00

for timothy

melt into me love … like the mouth of a river
naked, oblique, lingering
with mixtures of freshness and life.

ogle me love … like da vinci paintings
gazing, judging, appraising
lonesome persons with artistic inclinations.

dive into me love … like scuba gear
enclosing, serving, sustaining
adventurers and livers of life.

eavesdrop on me love … like children for holiday
hoping, faithful, anticipating
the jolly and wild aspirations of no school.

soothe me love … like vicks on chest
frigid, fragrant, calming
relaxation of tension of worry of tenderness

teach me my love … like gravitational anomalies
modest, meek, humbling
strangers for friends for lovers for partners.

You’re Everywhere

2009-12-13T15:39:00.000-06:00

snippets, samples, symbols
frequent around corners
in cars, lyrics, scenery
where physicality sparks a memory.
visuals evoke sensations of:
cigarette smoke blown in the opposite direction
hurried lyrics of songs leaving lips seconds before singer’s
shared paper in passing hoping words hit it off
intoxicating eyes gazing at a new magic world
peeks at body imagining its purely naked state
coffee consumption to relieve farmers of potential job loss
polos and shorts or polos and pants or t-shirts and either or
but always socks and always shoes and always always clean
curled with butt rubs and deep slumber with love and protection
dirty jokes, haphazard noises, glares from strangers
for expressive muppet, cart of chips, and just because

sentiments clog airwaves, encase brainwaves, and stifle new thought
in anger or rejection
with love or hostility
on days or nights beginning badly good
between tangent comments or dedicated speech
except jagged or unfinished, at times
when seeing you would be better
and hearing you would be better
and everything would just be better
if you were here or i were there.

When I told him I wrote a poem about him, he did not ask to read it

2009-12-13T15:38:00.000-06:00

Slithering in syntax
I stall for a moment.

He charged passed an inquisitiveness I desired
And full-forced to defensiveness.
The why’s and what’s; the when’s and but’s.
Always the…
But I didn’t say that
But you misinterpreted
But if you hadn’t said this and that, I wouldn’t have been a this and a that.

But sometimes I think it is my poetry
that keeps me with you.

Systematic muse of predictability
But I stall in this moment because I mis
-interpreted syntax

Torment

2009-12-13T15:37:00.002-06:00

I
twice a life lived on
needs and desires.
the body is overwhelmed
in want-for substance,
for touch, for fulfilling.
ask not specifics, they are
an unacquainted love.
shadows loom the pit, hand
slides, slips, slips
slips
slip
tumbles
to substance.
yearning subsides, fixation
fulfilled; be content in
dying: basic need.

II
the reflection
taunts the soul into
believing it is all
that requires all.
requited fantasies
force beauty on brain,
tongue in cheek,
memories alive in five senses.

III
blink silence blink silence blank silence
hair unmoved, clothes unfixed
posture unstirred. the
image shows life in tomorrows
back of brain hides what life
is to live in remorse.
strength to avoid to stun
the system of nothing
persistence being in
no
i can’t
it’s my need
no need no need no need no need
no need no need no need no need
the morning gets you down

Days

2009-12-13T15:37:00.001-06:00

Days like today with 69 and sunny
As a cat nibbles on my arm as affection as desire as
Leap
Leap leapt from thigh to floor in adventure;
Attention diverted.

Websites concluded ambitions as reasonable,
Tomorrow as possible, and
Forevermore as not always as so they say today may or was or is to be.

Ungraded papers flood my bag, weigh heavy on my brain
Money scarce, affection scarce, words scarce.
No poems. No reassurance. No love making.
Where have we gone? What have we become?
Adult is unfriendly. Too abrasive.
Co-habitation is treachery;
Cats get more attention than me.

Facebook gets more attention than me.

That Idiot

2009-12-13T15:35:00.001-06:00

For W.C. Williams

I didn’t like him for the same reason I didn’t like Milton.
Misogynistic pricks.

But there is something so tempting
Alluring to being controlled.
And the freedom to rebel. Sucking clitoris
Of Stein under the rules of a patriarch.

Williams and his rain. Williams and the plums. So cold.
So delicious to please him.

I didn’t like him for the same reason I didn’t like Milton.
Misogynistic because I let it be so.
No ideas. Only things.

Sites

2009-12-13T15:34:00.002-06:00

i will spend the day preserving your love on my lips;
it will transfer throughout muscle tissues and
magnify finger tip force on
pleasure sites.

Scrambling for Books

2009-12-13T15:34:00.001-06:00

The dead weight of wood
Would cease to support every dangling modifier
And metaphor giving ideas meaning.

My unforgiving finesse lines cover to cover
Of dangling ideas and meaningless meanings.
17 books of poetry and young adult fiction consumed the airspace
Of the cardboard Harry Potter box. Aligned in horcrux hunts and diving in wrecks;
A wheelbarrow on which nothing depends, honestly now.

Today, it all depended on if I could locate the thousands of sounds
On the thousands of pages of the 17 books of poetry
and young adult fiction.

Anxious. Worried. Hysterical almost.
The airspace displaced into my lungs leaving frantic breaths and madness.
Where has the box gone? In the shed to be destroyed with water? She gives us life,
She destroys a language whose meaning is never known.

Heaving breast and goose bumps. NO! The boiler room.
The warmth of our house streams from here. The warmth of a soul resides in dangling
Airspace between text and thought. Lost in translation
A Harry Potter brain ravages.

And sitting on the dead weight of wood, heavy with ideas
that french kiss similes…
A box. Poetry books. And young adult fiction.
All 17 displacing airspace and replacing ideas
With shapes.

My books: They are safe. The ideas
They are forever hidden
Buried with Dumbledore
Outside the closet but in
my poem.

Say

2009-12-13T15:33:00.001-06:00

What I really meant to say
In angry words, flaming tempers, and
Abrupt departures is I’m pained
Upset with life’s directions.
Our possibilities remain endless in
Real-world fashions while the mind
Shatters destinies and fates.

I need you selfless; I need you
Possessing brainwave transmission
Thoughts shared and acute sensibility.
I need you to remain patient; I need you
Mind-in-mind, mano-a-mano with
Tender emotions, stagnant motives
Bathed in a child’s purification.

What I really meant to say
In angry words, flaming tempers, and
Abrupt departures is that I need you
Curled around my body embraced
In my pain providing comfort in your touch.

What I really meant to say
Is I miss you, I need you.

Ridiculous

2009-12-13T15:32:00.002-06:00

I
in some past life
existed

II
a yeti savaged the earth in search
of a doppelganger, a dominatrix
with hair like air balloons and feminine eyes
perched between black peaks and frosty skin
in some demon-like bliss, she resided.

III
folding the day’s laundry of 3 children
an average life in an average town with an average America
dreams decayed with painted faces
thrilled screaming sirens of ice cream trucks
white picketed fences, with no “are you happy”s
and “mom, let me help.”

IV
in some present life
existence is questionable
and reasons abundant
in tortured earth soil and
florescent light from Hollywood.

Lovely

2009-12-13T15:32:00.001-06:00

sin flores y con amor
entiendo nada pero tu
in romantic horrors peel layers
reveal peace of mind
wake up and be free

luz no es necessario

If I Were A Writer

2009-12-13T15:31:00.001-06:00

i would commit suicide.

this suicide would speedily follow
the slow death I
structurally suffer by tracing
a pen’s life onto the page.

but i’m not a writer;
poets are never writers

Elusive

2009-12-13T15:30:00.001-06:00

hands didn’t shake though heart
veins vibrate with lightening brain waves
aphrodite peered through the sunlight sighing
paradise and placate melodies of a
job well done while the remaining gods
drank of the fountain of youth transmitting
their approval in reception grandeur

stately peons cleanse preparations with
dignity pride gravity leaving
motivation lingering between word exchanges
package swaps and hidden pupil peeks
gazing solitarily in death
we walked for the gods through
adoration and solid oxygen

interviewing the coy is no easy task in
starlight and traffic
settle with experiencing body and mind
we’ll all float on smiles of remembrance
for life commonalities and companionship rocketing
towards childhood dreams and hope

neglected touch respecting the gods
postponed stalled haulted increasing
desire and necessity
nose tips placed side by side in
feather touch as the peons wonder
whose tip is whose and if anything
will ever be distinguishable

in the moment lips flirted only
centimeters apart tongue swelled in
moisture lips parted grazed the other
breath inhaled to save your soul
for the day you may need to find
yourself i have a portion for safekeeping
stored in emergency times for lonliness
oneness

the gods understand
albert approves of time manipulation labeling
love as blackholes and gravity
dissipates into human subconsciousness
for new lovers and long time
strangers turned companions

Education Vanishes from 11 to 14

2009-12-13T15:29:00.000-06:00

{brainstorming ideas in the classroom is
like asking a deaf man to listen—on a literal level.
in both cases, no one knows what words derive
no one knows anything anymore}

their answers included things such as:
Writing
{simple enough and to the point, but something
told me laziness ate their appetite}
BUT how can we tell it from a novel
or, perchance, a billboard?

A stanza that evokes emotion
{but she didn’t use emotion or stanza}
An expression of your feelings and how you feel about someone.
Art; it’s just art.

{now this one was quite interesting}
Drawings and Shapes
{and i considered what he meant, my IEP prodigy}
Triangles and Curve Roses are it too.
{or rather symbolized utensil movements and
throat-tongue alignments of creativity in conformity}
The tie that brings people closer together: soul and passion

and from the depths of the classroom, a lone
scholar shouts “well, ms. vega—you tell us.”

It is spontaneous yet calculated
{such as in the fission in a nuclear reaction}
Formed by expansive, diligent work {OR}
Instantaneous nonsense far beyond you in nature and measure.
they just stared and i went on

A breathing body:
The monstrous hurricane and tranquil sunrise
The thump of your heartbeat breaking silence
The beam of sunlight--the division of i
A forceful pound of a new-born greeting our world
blink. blink. blink. blank.
It is the how and why of life.

Says he: but fo real tho, what is it?
{...anything labeled as it in our book is it}

A Train Station on Elgin

2009-12-13T15:27:00.001-06:00

He stood 5’ 9” hunched over
Like Roden’s the thinker.
But he was not contemplative. Life hung too heavy
He was scared to jump.
And so I jumped first.

A smile. Hesitation molded my face; I was scared.
He smiled. Fear gripped his eyes and I his hand.
Come, my love.

A pendulum ticks the time I control you.
Hanging on each wall you touch
With each lover you caress.

I’m not the jealous type.
However jealous this sounds.
Its just that it is what it is
And no matter how or why or when or what

The day will never come. This
Truth goes unstated in fear
Of jumping alone.

The shampoo bottle was orange-red
For thin hair
To add volume as though my naturals
Were lacking in volume; you loved big hair

And gripping my hips when I walked
You are much too simple.
Attracted to child-bearing hips and a mini sway
Left-right-left-right

And it is you who taught me the world wasn’t filled with
Colors. Colors filled the world. Worm holes
Lingered. My doppelganger exists because
My mind exists; therefore, I think.

Passionate kisses.
drip
drop
drip
drop/ seeing you stand and swing and slam and scream
Chemistry they say
Fuck me, deeper please.

This is the first poem written for you
Because of you.
And somehow it all still feels fresh
I’m 17 again-dramatic. Zealous.

And so it read:
I don’t know how to react to
It’s just making things--uncomfortable.
I don’t want to hurt your feelings, erica.

It was just one message; Uncomfortability is natural.
As though ever situation in life will make sense.
As though everything is okay. Must we consider all our actions?
Must we
Criticize
and
Evaluate…

definitely
beautiful.
definitely
beautiful.

i
al(l)
ready
jump
ed.

Disappointing the Prophets

2009-12-13T15:23:00.000-06:00

I
maidens gather around cobblestone fountains depicting
da Vinci’s man of science—
carefully scriveners listen and scribe: scribe and listen
nothing is yet said so he says cleaning
phlegm from throat and the maidens wait distracted.

“following American laws governed by
western philosophies: marriage before kids, co-
habitation before though proceeding and educating
minority citizens is crucial to idealism,
equality, and social responsibility.”

the Asians remain bewildered in culture-
shocked assimilation while Mexicans nod
in agreement professing the biblical cohesiveness
and Arabs claim the same God, the same purpose.
all three argue and chant bickering volumes disturbing
the children’s integrated play dates.

II
middle-class education remains liberated
to ask questions, demand responses not answers,
and never settle for mediocrity. in talents
unwavering beauty demolishes standards of
idealism with contradicting diction; the children
mature into puberty. girls resemble women in
body, boys fetishize the size of their dicks
displacing their fears as manliness.

penetration distracts skill ability and dreams are
mudded in someone else’s hope. some are
pregnant other moral-less, most enter
college to discover loneliness and self-reliance:
or co-dependence and loneliness but always some
in science and art and always questioning.

III
unprepared in fortune, decisions are halted
as degrees are disposed into hands.
accomplishments and success: American
freedom rang brazenly disturbing foreign maidens in
legitimate coordinates where rights are slayed.

IV
the college-babes wander empty corridors
looking for signs of future possibilities.
the prophets sit and wait: america will win.

An Apology for Hope

2009-12-13T15:22:00.001-06:00

Let us go then, you and I
to the exact spot where ravens fly.
In that moment, repentance is offered
and counter-offered with yearning.

Stagnant moments, dried worried dreams…
the real worries of life will never trouble
my worried little mind
until blindsided some idle Thursday afternoon.

Life’s sorries and that’s not me and
that’s not what I meant at all
at all costs offer repentance
for dying expectations and yearning aspirations.

All life is but a figment.
Etched in the pigment of smooth summer skin
lives the depths of you and I
where our life is in-between: you miss each other.

Wrapped in sorries and I didn’t mean
that was me. Real worries are apt to
cross between me and you. Considering
A raven flys by in this night sky.

Convincing

2009-12-13T15:17:00.001-06:00

your silence is deafening.
screams, stammers, soliciting advice
looking everywhere but inward
selfishness prevails and
the selfless commit suicide.
accidents, mistakes, regrets flee
adult vocabularies where
lessons are learned, nostalgia deepens,
and meanings are rendered.
bleed with life; cry with stings.
fail once and call it success.
die in everything: be brave.

Dancing

2009-12-13T15:13:00.000-06:00

you were trying to be sweet
and said you were thinking about me
but—let’s face it—you don’t understand me.
and so i was honest in saying i hadn’t thought of you.

and i swear your heart p-p-p-puttered a bit
and you gasped for stagnant air
in closet spaces.
but i had to be honest because

you don’t appreciate my poetry.
in turkey the poems still rhyme
the stanzas in perfect structure
stress unstress stress unstress
stress to me how you really feel

and my heart p-p-p-p-puttered a bit because
my poetry is more than a poem.
it lives in me—it has become me.
every word--every last word--every fucking last word is me.

so let me be honest…
no, i wasn’t thinking about you. and it really doesn’t matter either way, now does it?

In Harlem

2009-12-13T15:12:00.001-06:00

‘An astronaut’
he says
‘is what you need to be to make a real difference.’
An astronaut he says …

The sting of artificial lights
brighten a suburban seclusion.
As we pass by I sit and consider
at what point an astronaut decides to Be
an astronaut.

I scratch my itchy teeth with sandpaper tongue
and sink down
and down
and down …

convinced the dream explodes.

Beautiful Like

2009-12-12T13:48:00.001-06:00

I want to be beautiful
Wrapped in scant swirls of sapphire pearls
Soaring, gliding on Seraphim torches.
Beautiful like kisses in the rain
Love-making at dawn’s break among rooster
Crows, cat hops when the earth brings
To the new day greeting life with a smile
Memories with a smirk.

Be beautiful like crying babies in
Dangerous adventures of genuine exploration.
Intensity guiding a wobbled stride. Beautiful like
Cackling as strangers look stranger everyday.

Beautiful like jungles in Africa, animals
Run wild, heartless, healthy, happy, run as life.

Make me beautiful like freedom thundering
Moon shine, drowning near lighthouses.

Beautiful like friends returned in
frequent melodies of days. Moments.

I want to be beautiful like the present
State of being. Alive with beauty.

I’ve come alive

Tangible

2009-12-12T13:41:00.001-06:00

i wonder what Scent seafoam
is on a starry shoreline with
campfire desires watching as voyeurs do
vaginal birth canals, blood, and lady juices
this pungent procreative sweet, sweet sensation
cherries and honeysuckle uncorrupted
with perfumes and colognes
i wonder what you smell like in your skin

even amongst strangers, wind Touches
shivers and divides nuclei; antimatter
gravity peers over the edge of the horizon
p-p-pulling unabusive fingertips and
golden skin against one another as feet
horizontally positioned, aware of energy
and sidle smooth, smooth on a cliff

tongue turbulence, vibrations to T-t-ta-ta-taste
bounds of lips, inside of wrist, dip of back,
silk of scrotum. jubilee of body: uninterrupted
unexamined unquestioned. outlines of a sunrise
with palatal preferences outside you

if Sound doesn’t make sense nod in agreement;
if it does make sense argue it
and if you don’t care either way, just fuck
but if-if perchance you care both ways
carve poems in skin with your nails
use bite marks as punctuation and
never, ever, ever, skip lines because
neglected skin remains unscented and naked.

i hope there’s intensity when i See you, not butterflies but rather
lightning bolts striking veins, electricity brain waves and
skipped beats of the hearts
when vomit reaches the top of my throat
and comes out as s-s-st-st-st-stuttering
word never existed and our physical
languages are all that’s left when st-st-stuttering
falls for voice and eyes are ears;
i hope i die when i see you