March 2011
21 posts
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Algonquin Coach Reaches Milestone →
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Poetry Friday
As a Dandelion
I was once picked
to rest behind a virgin’s ear
and whisper the things her mother
did not want her to know.
Removed by the wind,
I tumbled through a field
of faces matching my own
and hitched a ride on the bumper
of a Vanagon headed to California.
I rolled off at Mendocino Cliff,
the only bud on the crag
until the same shade of yellow
grew near, taunting me
...
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Game Day
Here’s a fun game for Thursday. You know that girl you met last weekend, but you were a little hammed and you’re not really sure what you said or if she even wanted to be talking to you? What about that girl from French class three years ago? You know who she is. She knows who you are. Why do we have to pretend that the class never happened? Is there a statute of limitations on saying...
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Midweek Cuddle
Trigger
My lips brushed the back of her neck
lightly enough that her knees
buckled slightly and her head
pushed back against my face
like a cat stretching its legs.
recent thoughts
bellaamb:
One day I started thinking; what if I make my goal to be the most confident person in any room? I mean, there are so many insecure people in the world; what if I make an effort to be just the opposite?
And it works. You stress a little less and enjoy a little more. Test yourself. Set a goal to be less concerned with outward opinions. I think you’ll be happy you did.
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The Poetry of Mark Zuckerberg →
Recommended Read
A poet’s take on the Facebook phenomenon
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“Pietak thanked God for every poem. He scribbled his thanks on the margins of his...”
– Anna Kamienska
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Poetry Friday
“Love Me Tender” at a Diner off Exit 22
The jukebox played something I had heard before,
a song Mom and Dad danced to on their anniversary
except when Dad left on his second tour
and I held my mother while her tears swayed with me.
At the time I could feel my mother sinking
through my hands like sand, shapeless
without my father, a compound linking
them. She could only...
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Midweek Cuddle →
Meet my friend Buster. I think you’re going to get along really well.
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Poetry Friday
My apologies for missing a week, but I was soaking up the sun in Punta Cana for one last spring break. This is a letter poem and Yusef, the speaker of the poem, is a fictional character.
To My Angel, the Mother of a Son Without Parole
I reminisce on the stress I caused, it was hell
Huggin on my mama from a jail cell
- Tupac Shakur
Dear Mama,
I read the books...
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Midweek Cuddle
Good Afternoon
She used one motion
to open the door
and pull me inside,
undressing as we exchanged
conversational glances.
The only noise emanated
from her refrigerator,
a 1990s holdover
stating its case.
When she draped
herself like a cloth
over her grandmother’s
refectory table,
I thought twice about pursuit,
taking in the scene
like a movie critic
before...
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Things I hate that you might not enjoy either
People who spell whoa as “woah.” Noah Webster says you’re wrong and he isn’t pulling punches. That guy was one bad mother shut-your-mouth.
Waking up panicked that I’ve overslept for class/work/test/baby shower. It’s not until I’ve pulled on one pant leg and have been looking for shoes, mismatched shoes, any shoes (goddammit where are my shoes?), that I...
