NOV PAD 2010 - Day 21

Start by saying "please..."
bite your bottom lip , pout, and flutter those lashes;
sucker punch the part of me the would say "no."

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 20

There are two lips, or four if we're technical,
they are pressed together
they are hoping for a spark, a hint, a clue; they are unlucky dreamers,
their hopes are dying in their throats.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 19

There is an emptiness you can't fulfill,
the minus you that fills the air completely.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 18

I lost you somewhere, I think; or you found me
written on the inside of your wrist, tangled
with your flawed veins
I was just damaged enough to be completely perfect.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 17

Tell Me Why the Toilet Tissue is Locked in the Trunk of My Car


And I'm sitting upstairs in the middle of this red brick building
behind the locked door of my loft
behind the open door of the bathroom
(because the space is nothing but air and me). I'm wearing a grimace
a palm thrown dramatically to slap my forehead. This is stupid,
and sitting here wondering isn't helping the tissue get here
not quicker, not sooner, not at all.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 16

Why Card House Always Topple...




Because it is midway through the 11th month and half the day is already over. Because the fall is not the season of love. Because everything around us is dying...including us. Because I have walls, but no windows or doors. Because you can't be someone's shadow without sunshine and it's been raining nonstop for weeks. Because your best friend hats me and frankly I'm not too fond of her either. Because I'm socially awkward and I haven't learned how to hide it. Because I can't trust in something I'm not sure exists and although you are the most tangible thing in my reality I can't allow myself to submerge in you.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 15

Peeking out the door
my breath comes in steady bursts. The quiet stretches
its legs and eases into warm comfort.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 14

I saw the bricks falling ahead of me
golden and glinting in the sun. Make me more promises
swear by things we can't keep; turn doughnuts
parking lot dragster, I can keep up. I don't look it,
but I prefer the asphalt
gravel and dirt roads. Simplicity to the complex. Silver
to a Golden road. I don't believe in Oz
or wishes or Ruby slippers. I believe in weed-wackers, machetes
and finger nails caked in dirt.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 13

Why so serious?

Tell me if it's so crazy to smile?
Hysterical, the irony of laughter. Chuckle
now. Cry only when it's appropriate. Come costumed, a clown
juggling the masks you have to wear to survive.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 12

The weakest point in the chain is where the kink is;
the part that keeps knotting in on itself. The ends are moving
away from the center towards infinity
and that kink just tightens, pressured
until it breaks. You couldn't care if it breaks. It's not you.
Not you breaking into pieces. You had the common sense to be steel,
and steel can't bend backwards to fortify nickel.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 11

No One Wants You...

I'm known to be mean, but not cruel;
not an ugliness that likes to tear things apart. And I could shred you,
toss you like confetti; but I don't
thought about it , but didn't. I can't find my pleasure
in your pain; the sight of you cracked and holding pieces of yourself in.
I am no longer a hero, but I won't be your villain either.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 10

To say my heartbeats is redundant;
of course it beats, hard, in my chest
but it's just because I'm alive
or it's Thursday
not because of your presence
it's never been you.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 9 (two for tuesday)

Not until death. Run as if life is something escapable.
No one gets out alive. Be a torch, burning. Be
the ashes, not the darkness. Be the light...
Be the only thing that shimmers
like a river bed full of washed over rocks. Don't stop.
Not until death.




Breathe. While the lights streak pass
like a carousel ride, a carnival of neon. There won't always be more time.
There will always be days you're burning at both ends. Days you are the wax
not the wick. Deeply, breathe
and step lightly, the stones are loose here.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 8

Can we agree you're a bitch? I'm willing to concede
I'm an asshole. We can agree that we're both bottled up issues.
Though you can't believe you're less than perfect,
and I'm pretty sure my mother still thinks I'm great. You disagree.
Which is fine, great, fan-fucking-tastic; let's just agree to disagree.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 7

Pro-bed

There is an empty bed
or not so empty their are clean clothes curled like a sleeping body
on the left side. Pillows tumble on top of each other, an unkempt mountain.
I shape myself, spooning the clothing. It's cold
and blankets call my name. I answer, a whisper with closed eyes.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 6

Looking for the Man...

Peering at me over her glasses she sighs--disappointment;
I am not the woman she planned on me being. Not the vision
of ladylike endeavors. She knows somewhere there's a "he" to make me more
"she"
less it. At least that's how she's always seen it. How she's trying
to teach me to see it; but I'm too old for secondary education. To set
in the comfort of my mold. Or maybe neither of us have walked
each other footsteps and maybe neither of us is ever going to...

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 5

I was born bare-boned, a skeleton. Threw on a bodysuit
of muscles, a coat of skin. I have been becoming,
not yet settled on been; growing into being.
I have swallowed a muscle built like concrete
and let it sink, weighing me as less than worthy.

NOV PAD 2010 - Day 4

Because veins are not highways
I cannot travel the tips of your outstretched fingers
the inside curve of your elbow
sloping under your breasts to your heart.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 3

It's easier to get warmer than cooler
add another blanket
or two. Cuddle with a pillow
or five and burrow into the mattress. Hibernate.
When you awake the sun will be half passed midday
the season will be in full swing.

NOV PAD 2010 - day 2

I can tell you about concrete. Tell you
about barb wire, about burnt bridges and bruised bones.
Love, is not something that can be deciphered
or explained; it has a language
my heart is just now learning...at least it thinks.

I can tell you about murmurs. Tell you
about holes, monitors and clogged arteries.
I can illuminate the tangible, the constant. I cannot tear
these foundations asunder and rebuild.

NovPAD 2010- Day 1

Taking cues from the Poetic Asides Blog I'm going to try to post a poem a day for the entire month of November...it may get a bit dicey at the end though because I'm moving the week after Thanksgiving. Anyways, here we go:


Stand still, stand perfectly still. When you look back there will be no footprints--
the trail you blazed will have been swept away.
Toss away your book of matches and curl into yourself.
She was always miles ahead of you, I was ever the omnipotent narrator.
I'm unable to write happy endings, so you can just stand still,
stand perfectly still
wait for her to run back while you watch her run away.