30 days has September, April, June, and November. I'm not posting every day this month, but I will be writing every day and sometimes sharing.
One too many layers
two too many accessories
creates a thickness on her,
a scum of cheap calculation;
the sweat of mannequins.
She is RossDressForLess,
she is JCPenny and Marshalls and Target
all exploded and crammed back
together with a fistful of hairspray.
Yes, this girl will get into your RV.
Yes, this girl will date in minutes for dollars
and take out the spite of losing on the camera lens
as if it's his balls.
I've got some poetry videos up on youtube!
One video was taken by the amazing Jill Greenseth, one is from when I was the calibration poet at VanSlam, one from the night I won the Eugene slam, and a few (more on the way) from the night I featured with Johnny No Bueno at Kitchen Sessions in Bellingham, WA.
I found this poem in an old folder and thought I'd share it:
We are all supposed
To transeverse the valley of our hate,
Is that not correct?
Worry away at seams,
Has been traded for dreams,
Closing fast closure
Is an ugly sprite,
unbound with spitting delight
and chasing chasing chasing
all we are trying to keep shut
So I also have a tumblr now too.
And a poem for your troubles, gov'ner;
[a Ghazal is a form poem, you can read about what makes them tick here, on wikipedia.]
Something inside me aches.
What makes me ache?
Shhh, we'll be very quiet.
It wont be your ears that ache.
There is something empty about this place;
emptiness that leaves space for an ache.
Running is miles and miles!
There is no muscle in me that does not ache.
I don't get why you don't want me!
Not knowing, I nurse this ache.
Go as far away as you can go;
even in the next room, your absence leaves an ache.
I have been reading all day and my eyes are tired;
soon, they will begin to ache.
I resolve to be firm and independent
until I see you. Then I become small, and ache.
The clovers cover you until you are made of luck.
The dirt covers me until I am made of ache.
If I punch your teeth through the sides of your cheeks,
then will you tell me it only aches?
When you left my love, dearheart, it throbbed
and died. It's alive again now, but aches.
Lover, come back to bed.
There is an emptiness in me that aches.
Every time you smile so Cheshire
I want to make you ache.
Get a little bolder;
it's the only way to end the ache.