Wednesday, September 4, 2013

tree poem

lean into me i am
scabbed over so my strong neck
can support you

or you can go, remember me in
a few years and come on by;
i will have risen perhaps
a few inches

sap sucker i just wish to own your
face where i split

and i wish more folks
would pay attention to my
careful documentation of the years;
see i'm unable to practice sufficient divination
for being caught in
the suck

i'm the girl who was an auger.
and where did august go
here in my almost
twenty-seventh year

Friday, August 9, 2013

today i was feeling lost and
stood in front of a mirror masticating
a log of string cheese
watching carefully
and thought "i'm only a poet
because i can't live without
making a sad story out of
everything that happens."

Thursday, May 9, 2013

exercise

i'm no good
i'm no good
i'm no good
i'm no good
i'm no good
i am fiercely and emphatically no good

i'm a crouching lil devil girl inside a bigger devil girl
i am VIGILANT FOR TRANSGRESSIONS;
restrained in imposing and slippery ways

i once cut my hand on a fish it is one of the things i have
opened my skin on, fit some slicer
between the cells
this girl i worked with had scars striping all up her arms and
i wanted impulsively to snatch them for kissing

by the by
i'm a silly split-end scissorer
a princess who ate a poisoned ruby
and became a middle-class witch

balking at how spooky it is to be
fully plugged-in 
if i could just stay
behind my eyes

i've tried lately to seem softer
by filling my brain up with flowers
i look at your face area and think
my brain is a wad of peonies
i'm thinking
peonies, peonies, peonies


Tuesday, April 9, 2013

mettling

i'm forming a more complete picture every moment.

i'm foaming up thick fluids and slipping down between bubble membranes.

laughing, "i can dissolve at will."

i can't be outpaced if i don't exist.

or dog logic; try to cut each other off.

dog logic; gorge.

my organs aren't crying out yet.

i'm providing a hammock.

a detailed list of bearings.

a hand that could just grab anyone.

a tongue that goes on like a gray bird, "i could do, could do, could do."



Wednesday, March 27, 2013

sure don't post in this blog much anymore

i always hate when people do the vanity "i'm taking down this blog/twitter/webpage.... goodbye forever" posts and i will never.  it feels so withholding.  i think a major thing that irritates me in life is the feeling that someone i'm interested in is being withholding to me.  i am curious.  it is my selfish failing or perhaps talent about which i am most intensive; the way some people are so driven.  i saw a photo of a woman who danced on ballet pointe shoes atop a row of wine bottles.  the caption said her name and that "she practiced 8 hours a day to do this".  this is what i mean, the way some people have an aggressive want to focus so doggedly on a thing, which i often feel defective for mostly lacking.
i think when i was a child i was really bright and everyone around me said "do what you want, you can do anything", and i'm stuck having never grown out of that.  i'm here looking fleetingly from one thing that snags my attention to the next.  being not super comfortable interacting with people in person has only helped this develop the aspects of this into a distant, persistent curiosity.
or maybe it is just a seasons-changing, transient thing i am feeling lately because of the monotony of leaflessness on the gray sky.  the little pebble of bravery trembling in my deeps. like i always feel then forget i felt then recall.

i wish my mind was a cloud of knowledge that could settle gently over everyone and everything.
breathe me into your lungs and let me stay awhile in the lattice of cells.
i will not hurt you unless i sense some fear or weakness that i judge to be "lame."
i'm really sorry about this, it's just that i see how it poisons you.
and bores me.
and tell me all your
secrets.
sque
eze
me
in
to
your
inner
circle.

  

Thursday, January 10, 2013

mid-jan dream land

i dream i'm visiting my family but their house is a different one, dated heavy brick/wood and out in the country.  in my care are three small birds, each a different color, that i bring inside and say i need to look after.  at some point two of the birds are startled and fly away from me, and i scramble to catch the black and orange one on the mantle except my family's dog has seen it too, and beats me to it by inches.  i think, oh no, oh no, and there is a wet crunch in the dog's mouth.  i feel just terrible.  the dog keeps crunching my little bird's bones.  i try to be okay with it, and let it go.

when i'm not dreaming there's a chasm in my chest-area that i keep tumbling into unless i distract myself.  it's okay and it won't last forever.  all day i have random, vivid memories of rooms i was in as a child.  the kitchen of my family friends' grandma's house in ogallala.  i walk to and from work and around downtown lincoln like i have for the past few years.  i remember the auditorium of tri county k-12 school.  at lunch i sit in sp ce reading comic books, scooting my chair across the floor to keep my face in the sun as it moves across the wall in the afternoon.  i remember how my parents' friend cindy taught me how to get an eyelash out of your eye by holding the lid outward and blinking.  i think about what to do with my life, about what it would be to get a new job and move somewhere alone.  it seems terrifying but like a strength i could have if i needed to.  i write in my little red book and it's all dumb rambling.  i haven't tried to write love poems yet, because they feel too magical/powerful, but i will soon.  i try to tell people how i'm feeling but it comes out as "i'm crazy, sorry, i'm crazy, i'm fine".

in a dream i go to my childhood friend courtney's house, in the country again.  there are brown horses wandering outside, a sturdy woman lets us in and i go to the basement.  people my age are hanging out like a party.  some things are normal but in other places there are sloping pits in the floor with plates of bent metal, and metal railings on the stairs with a gap you have to squeeze your skull through to get by.  i cut off half of my toe on something on the floor and it bleeds and aches.  i try to bandage it.  the people i'm with frown at it but don't really help.  i keep going ow, it hurts, and looking down to see half of my toe flapping off, then hanging by a thin strip of skin, then the half separates from me.  these other pretty girls who are there happen to have packages of medical gauze and neosporin, which they give to me with drunken sympathy.  i dress the wound and go upstairs.  there are tabby cats and kittens on the kitchen table.  i go outside and cindy's husband pat is there, shirtless and very muscular.  they are castrating the horses, weirdly.  the screaming horses are tied down to the ground and they cut off their testicles, then dump wheelbarrows of smoldering embers and ash on the wound.  i leave to waking.




Thursday, December 27, 2012

12/27

for the past couple days i've been sort of jogging to/from work, in a fit of missing the exercise from and swiftness of my bicycle.  there is still so much ice everywhere.  the running is kind of awkward in my work clothes with a jostling backpack but it's okay, it feels like i might be starting on some kind of quest.  too soon the flesh in my mittens is wet and there is a steamy halo spreading under my fur hat.

today on my way home i startled a hawk a few feet to my left.  it was first just a curt whoosh of air and a cloud of gray feathers, from the pigeon he'd been eating.  he landed nearby on the overpass and regarded me sternly before continuing to eat.  where he had been was a patch of bright red blood and yellow corn spilled undigested from the pigeon's gizzard. 

that's pretty much all that happened so far today besides staring at tumblr at work (and working some).  i guess we'll see what else happens. 

Thursday, December 20, 2012

fermata to solstice & farther

do you remember how many moths there were last spring
someone said they blew up from down south
there's something off with the climate now
as we cruise gravity-less further from childhood;
last spring it was moths
and explosions of roses

my seasons are eating each other but not like
fish eat each other, in slippery gulps, more like
a lion eats his own cub

i have long found it
difficult to focus.

and everything
else is eaten by boredom.
i can steel my ribs well enough now
at least.

and i crumble now and then from
this lady body or
because of a typical dad-given unease
i don't know
do other dads give their kids eating disorders??

sometimes i can imagine
my spirit animal is a shark
when i put my black eyes in
smelling blood

bleeding like a stuck smiling
tell the world
i'm sorry it's so easy
to love me

because imitation
is no different from authentic
in the water

and it took/is taking me longer to learn
how a natural animal
should want to

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

spooky poem 1

a wet itchy dock and a bark-boat that
will maybe be our vessel bound

for seams, slots for my pennyfingers,
weeping botfly holes.

i've been accepting my death already in dreams,
mom hands me white handfuls of pills.

swallow gnats mouthing in your voice
the fine gentle names for me that settled from the silt-stir.

i've just been looking for
slits to dip my penny painted fingers in.

lashing on heavy bundles to
be fed to the portal.

Monday, October 15, 2012

tenth month

i dreamed my cat dandy had kittens but something wasn't right and nobody would listen.  she had birthed two and i knew one at least was still inside but nobody would listen. i could see it through her belly skin which was milky semi-opaque like dough stretched thin.  eventually i could poke my fingers in through a hole in the skin and pull the gray mouse-sized kitten out.  things were okay then.

life is good.
though the day-job lately leaves me feeling like a half-thick undergrown fruit at the end of the vine that's decaying to a shriveled umbilicus.  stunted. 
i feel ready to feel the readiness to slip down another channel.
once i you know figure that shit out.

my energy is shunted elsewhere.
i meditate by cooking.
i day-dream about my good man.
i try to keep feeding my friends
as we meet in this day-waning landscape
amidst a variety of simulated warfares.
us vs. them in high definition.

how many good days do you think we'll have.

Sunday, October 7, 2012

Wednesday, September 26, 2012

anemic dreamnotes

i dreamed that a small leopard owned by my sister came in my apartment through the window, intent on attacking my cats.  i was sluggish and couldn't stop it in time and it mutilated one of their hindquarters before i grabbed it by the neck and hurled it back out [the way wild animals are solidly muscled under skin].  i dream about my cats when it feels like i have a lot to take care of, life-wise.  or i dream about kittens or birds, dozens of them in fantastic colors that i am now in charge of looking after.
when i have a fight with close friends i dream about my sister.  when i fight with a close friend i usually dream i am beating the fuck out of my little sister, except my fists are slow and mushy.
i guess i'm writing about dream things.  i have not been dreaming much lately, but it's starting to pick up again and sometimes leave me feeling a terrible implacable sadness that lingers into the day like smoke.  these are autumn feelings maybe.
i dreamed the apocalypse again the other morning, it started in the rocky mountains and a widening hole opened up in the earth that grew.  when you're on top of a mountain the rest of the world feels impossible to grasp; the chasm was like that but a black anti-finality plunging downward, growing.  you're with packs of people [the way eyes look in disaster scenarios]. at the end it began to rain, and the rain turned to a soft white slush and the only sound was the hushed pat-pat-pat of precipitation over the dull throaty wind noise of the chasm.  i woke feeling sad and accepting about the end of the world.

it took me a month to get my car fixed.  this was a discouraging mental block i'd like to avoid more, seeing an easy solution but being paralyzed by some unnameable sluggishness.  i am checking many things off of many lists with tenacity.  i am really "manifesting" in ways i find pleasing, i like to think.  i am turning twenty-six years old very soon, this is mostly just fine.  things are pretty eerily great and i feel pretty solid in the world.  just great. 

  

Wednesday, September 12, 2012

HI IT'S ME // SOME KIND OF BANDIT

i am writing more.  it's autumn/september when my poembrain starts crackling into focus.  i am going to post some of the "chain of thought" type things i've been writing lately to get me going.  it's been a push for me to like begin describing in expressive ways how much these past months have changed/grown me.  and how pleased i am with life in gen.  for this writing however i could not be more humble/shy regarding the quality hi welcome to my blog.  here they are, here i go.

i want
rough paws
I want to always like myself this much this
goddamn much
I want everyone to know
I am frequently thinking of them and ways to make
them happier.  I am
trying hard to shake off
my hubris; jealousy. It
has not been too hard I just
have to keep saying "quit
having hubris" or "quit having
jealousy." IT FEELS SO FREE

I also found one of the
only things that has really
helped has been to stare at myself
in a mirror and repeat
the words
AUTONOMY
FREEDOM
RESPECT
until i feel better

Less REAL TALK.
More nonsensesense.
Sandwiches.
Eyewhites.
Mand shaking a jug o veg.

Smoked cigarettes for
five years.
Obsessively hated my body
and threw up a lot of food
for 8 years. 8 8 8
hated me. so strange.

It feels nice not to have
to carry anything so heavy.
The years i lost
went by troubling swift.

and it's still hard.
recently I ate too much cheese
or talked about eating
too much cheese.
Last year I started
Chinese class. There
is not much cheese in
China, but they do like
rotted bean things --
fulfill our human love
of the unctuous rotting
food thing.  Lactic fungi.

My hair is at least
doubly long.  Lightest
blonde at the ends where
it was once dyed black.
I have let several people
touch my hair and mouth.

I have learned some measure
of patience, tho suspect
it is a middling measure.
a patience on a short leash.
OR this may be a
summer that stretches
pinging through my decades,
like a novel with many
misunderstood wives.

I can calmly accept
change sometimes,
firm myself in calmness
for the wringing I'm
undoubtedly set to face.

Either i will be crushed
or I will crush myself
with wanting.

HEMORRHAGE
a fly on the
leaflitter.
cashew gingerbrew
soon you'll know all i
know about trees and
what then.

Only speak in fingers.
I once knew some shit
Once only I knew
some shit I knew, there
were thousands in red.
We couldn't compete
but kissed fondly instead.

I only speak in orgasm.
the others
wasted me.
Yes okay so I needed
rescuing but if you
show me how to
shoot I am sure to
be invaluable to the
rebellion effort.

Nobody taught me about
machines but I can
see how they work if
I look I just don't
know the names.

expecting to be
disappointed
may be cruel.

I am cruel.
No.
I am self-centered.
I want a story.
I want to get off.

DO I DESERVE
KINDNESS?

caught the first of the
winter screams these
past 2 days --
put me down more.
I want to hear
my faults and fix them
with love
I am fatalistically
calm.

I need to be coddled
sometimes especially when
I am feeling jealous
and anxious.  I try
not to feel these things.

I am enraged by
the failure of others
to be as attentive as
I am.
I am enraged? idk.
I want to hurt
them to make it
"fair"
because i hurt
exquisitely.

I can eat you
so slowly you won't
even notice.

Swaller. er.

I am cold hands playing
in yr noodle stew.
Clinical excision
on a whim.

by January I
am astride the roaring
king dragon
of feeling too much.

Super stuff it down
time.  A red fly eye.
Young girl thighs.
Competition, Alpha
bitch.  Love me please.
Magnolia leaftongue.

There is no thing more
maddening than
a fly who keeps landing
on legs.

Like a fly.  Like rubber
colored flies with red
eyes tonguing the
magnolia leaves of my
legs.

Like get up,
Sorry these bitches don't
take your subtle
neuroses into consideration.
Sorry some stuff about
you sucks and yr bored
bored bored as a kind of chronic
affliction. 

Be less careful.  Care
more.  Consider
how many girls had
young hard thighs
under magnolia trees
with a jay sing-songing
above, two notes, high-low.

Was it a windy day
when. When. When.
When. When. When. When.
When. Can you let go
of who
mishandled and crushed you

Have you stayed too long
in lincoln? did you not
get taught how to pursue
an exciting and fulfilling
career being cool?

HEY LONER

Hair and flies tickling everywhere
in the winter i want
to be clean of these

bench bush. bare asses.
the wind magnolia
skitter leaves. splinter.
you killed yr brain with
drugs and computers.
you suck at everything now.

Everyone will only ever crush and bore you so keep
yourself entertained.
it's not a fault.

The earth wad.
Sick hilltop orgasm.
Months go by.

There's probably a song
about it that does a
better job of explaining.

Seek further inspiration.
Be so confused by yr
femaleness.  Ask for
help but not really.

Give and give and give
and give and give and give
and give and give and give

what sticks anymore
ya lint logged.
Stuck a fur of splinters
in.
Easy like ***

I am so bored with being
self-obessed
I am bored by the
limited imagery
available to me when
I seek it in my
head space.
I approach gathering new
imagery as a translation
of sensation to language.

i want to write beautiful and true things
but don't know if i ever have or will.

how do i outsmart myself.

series or gears
smells of rain
should go

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

Friday, June 29, 2012

the only pornography i've ever paid money for was bad hentai on vhs when i was 13

you've been given
a hival outcasted mound lobe
to gut around in

this foundling
reached up to an udder,
blighted rosegold rimmings nipped
all swum eyeball-deep
down access channels
sniffing for a kind of chemical
an unmother sourness
that you once suckered
in little solip clusters

start a feisty beg and chew 
you deuceface
muster a caterwaul of
how now to produce
who am i in a clench
and sowing and sow
or go bust

Sunday, June 10, 2012

hotel california

cher with her mother in nelson, ne, looking out the window of her mother-in-law's kitchen after planning larry's funeral.  i don't know why i took this on my phone but she had been standing there for awhile and it was very still. 

these are strange days.

Monday, June 4, 2012

whet

i blister prettily,
delineating 
who i used to be
 
chew down to verbs,
a lot of itchy shedding,
icy cabochon eyes under
unclouding meltwater

tried to
trust in my mouth parts,
tap accept, accept
on the window milk,

so eschew me,
chameleonness  
sink holing or swole

under young leafs i
sat and sang O give me
a home
in autonomy
ever more, a-
men

and i like you blowing down
on me softly
while i dance off these legs

Wednesday, May 30, 2012

self portrait in may



i wrote a bunch of semi-apologetic/deprecating/gender/edisorder and explanatory words under this blurry photo of myself, but instead: here internet, enjoy my back and bad-ass crusher arm, i like to imagine the other one's tiny and shriveled like i'm a fiddler crab. 
i like changing.