September 30, 2014


I turned out these lines taking them from lines given for an assignment:

I slit my living room curtains to see

the other side. I’ve already entombed

your cawing, clawing masquerade. I thought

outside these walls we might finally talk,

but if one death makes room for another,

cemetery plots will become cliche

or archetypes if you like what they say.

These curtains hide the wrong faces but the

right embraces. A little begets a lot,

so your little death makes me distraught, yet

you hook me with whispers and fingertips.

And though less can be more,

you overdo it and strip away at us

like weathered paint on our one story house.


I like what I came up with. I’m not sure how to feel about it creatively. Is it mine? I suppose not. It’s just my version of another’s mangled ideas…as are we all.


I did an assignment today that was hard but fun. I was given the following lines to change:

I shut the black wings

from my heart. That bad, bad bird.  I slam the light.

Wrong love, it flaps, wrong love. I slit the curtains

of my eyes. If one more death makes room for one more death,

I’ve died enough.  I’ve died in rooms that bird screeched through,

the blood-tipped feathers of my hands.

The years of longing in its craw.  The little claws like dangling hooks

that ruined my nakedness for good.  Wrong love,it flaps, wrong love.  I wave my arms

to make it go.   As if the sky could take it back.  

As if my heart, that box of shadows, could be locked against itself.


Here are the other things of the day:

Wake up: 6

Get to work: 7

Work, work, work until 3, I mean 5.

Write, rewrite, and grad. school things between: 6 and 7

Eat something awful and drink a bit wine: 8

Write some more as I watch Californication and edit others’ work for class: 9 and 10

Go to sleep: 10:30, I mean 11, I mean…

Waking up is the worst, until you don’t do it. That has got to be awful. I hope I never have to find out, but I will. I don’t want to die. I always want to sleep more in the morning, so I guess the status quo is something we all try to maintain–what a tremendous drag.

Getting up and to work is annoying, but once I’m there its so much fun. Its only work when you do the things that other people complain about, which is more than enough to pull you into the societal cycle of loathing. I don’t watch sitcoms, but if I did I bet I still wouldn’t see people complain about making a new quiz or writing assignment. With the current status of education, there might be a new show that depicts the enraged reality of teachers preparing students for standardized tests and waiting for the results. Mr. Chapman wants to maintain his salary, and…he does! Ms. Dearborn hopes for a slight raise after having the same pay for fifteen years, and…sorry, Ms. Dearborn, your advancements have stalled, but don’t let that stall your effort.

I enjoy Californication, but I don’t enjoy Californication. It’s good background noise since the dialogue is snappy. It’s good background visuals since the ladies are pretty. Is it pretty sad that I care about that so much? I feel that it’s natural, but I grew up in a nature that assumed air conditioning and immediacy. My profound moments are spent realizing others’ misfortunes, usually years after they happen, rarely months after they happen, once or twice within a day or two…and I’m a liberal. What do these conservatives do? What are they conserving? I wonder if they realize that being a conservative means they want to conserve the status quo–what a scary thing to want. No offense, cons…sorry, not sorry. Fill in whatever mantra I’m supposed to say to apologize for my opinion here. Thank you.

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