February 2009
1 post
See Us.
Safe in your blue, blue fields
Shaking as a leaf in the wind
Cold crisp nights as you crackle alone
But the whole world is watching
And here we are standing
With arms open wide
And warmth in our empty embraces
So right to receive you
We believe in you
Crawl to us, walk to us, float on a breeze
It beckons and calls to cradle you home
And live in our hearts, and our toes and our bones
...
January 2009
3 posts
Dreams in a Tent
We slept under stars
In thin woolen napsacks
And shivered in cold and excitement
With guns under pillows
And dreams of our homes
Bodies on the ground
Of a thousand sad souls
And exhaled our fears
To feed our small land
And hoped life would sprout
And entangle us softly
And bring us down under
In soft, safer arms
Embrace us and rock us
And allow us to love
And spit us back out
To...
The Museum
I saw your eyes through the mist
Of a painted forest in the Tel Aviv rain
And held your palm through the echoed halls
Of a hollow past, a salty story
And grasping the sleeve of our present hero
All brown eyes and muddy boots
We breathed the air of a crying people
And bundled close in love of a moment
And fear of a future
We did this together
You and I, solder
With whispers on lips
And...
About ""
In the midst of this crowded forest,
Pines rising and grass grazing our naked ankles,
our muddied feet,
We tumble about and wade through the fog
With no wishes for a clearer day
Just a quick prayer
That through the thickness
Eachother’s hands
We’ll have to hold
December 2008
3 posts
Winter’s cold
And you make me want
To say really weird things.
Winter in Brooklyn
Grinding teeth and we’re all just bone,
skeletons wandering sidewalks alone,
breathing smog to cages of rib
grasping rocks with sinewed limbs
cursing time while it steals our words
and closing eyes dream of blacker birds
all souls sing in the dead of night
the air composed of collective cries
if only hope would take us flight
if only love would give us light
emptiness, hollowness,...
The L
Kerouac at 14 street,
and we’ve left the bustle of a hustling crowd.
The silence comes loud here,
in muddied mubles,
and sporadic screams from a disgruntled, wrinkled, dissilusioned youth,
with fifty years to his soiled name.
And Mitchell called this “The Cirlcle Game”.
And we do roam in spheres,
and we orbit each other,
Our mean spectra l spirits bounce off brain to...
September 2008
1 post
Ceiling fan serenade
In the spaces between the memories
To breathe you in is sweet
And on the exhale, what to do but break again
Sailed our ship so far
To the middle of a sparkling sea, but the sun goes down
And we are lost
I could have been our beacon of light
But I refused to shine for us
For you, love.
And I’m sorry.
I am so sorry.
No captain, no planks, no sunrise.
Bring...
August 2008
4 posts
In addition to “writing poetry” I run a fairly popular facebook dedicated to the Jets’ Kerry Rhodes (number one badass in my book). I have to clear the slate of the Jets’ sad 4-12 season and so I’m archiving the news feed here. It’s another taste of just how little time this “struggling” actress dedicates to, well, the theatre. The field is a stage...
PostSecret →
The vibrations, the sound waves expand
But phone in your hand
They’re pulling you in
Push and pull and sink a little further
Into pain and pleasure and utter distraction
Black little circles live under your eyes
No one’s surprised
How you age these days
Carving thin lines into fresh morning face
Worries will ware you
Hide for tonight.
What made you think you could do it?
That you could change your ways and heart and move
To the beat of the drums from a past life a future body
What made you think you could shine
When shadows are all that will fall
Upon your eyes
Upon your heavy legs
Upon your stationary feet
Upon yourself
What made you think they know you
When there are only two that know you
What made you think you...
July 2008
15 posts
I’ve written a lot of “poetry” these past couple of days, and I wonder if it is good or not good. Amateur. Maybe? It is strange to think I may have a talent for something other than what I’ve chosen to do with my life. It is stranger to think what I am doing requires something that may not live inside of me. It is scarier to think that my talent lays solely in waitressing.
Lay on me your hands, and lace your fingers in my knots
Pull as the days unravel, as our cloth unravels, as our breath unravels
What You've Done
Down the passages
Through the insides
Cracks and crevices are filled with false
Mind’s a racket and collecting dust
As memories and medicine tussle about
And you forget my face as much as your own
You’ve nothing to own
But precarious pieces of crumbling plaster
Tumbling from ceilings of hollowed out rooms
You were asked to leave.
Linger
Linger some, friend
You’re slimmer today, love
And grasp a little tighter
An infant to a finger
Your limbs are feeling lighter
And linger, friend
A little weaker, love
And keep from slipping, friend
I’ll keep on singing, love
We’ll keep on singing.
Ode to the Restaurant Goer:
I don’t want to serve you
I do not deserve you
You send back your fish
And complain of the salt
Your ass is humungous
Your feet grow a fungus
Send back chicken parm
Undercooked? It’s my fault.
A sucker for gluttoun
Your pants popped a button
You drop seafood shells
All over my floor
You chew like a heffer
Your husband’s no better
A proud restuarant patron
Your wine...
Shut up and stumble
Back from the brink
Those words left you crumbled
And slipping you sink
Acting a version
More crass than your own
And losing the love
Of the seeds you have sown
Winter comes fiercly
To crack all your greens
And chap your cracked lips
And slice all your seams
Insides are outside
You’re staying indoors
And beds are for dreamers
Face graces the floor
Down...
I’m stuck and I care
I can’t write and you’re there
And your hands grow these nails
And these nails graze your skin
And all my heart pulls for
Is to let your light in
But nothing will tighten these bolts in my feet
And turn all these screws
And make us complete
Wrenching and wretching and writhing and stop.
And breathing is harder than drowning in drops
Of salt laden...
I wrote these in a Starbucks the other day. I don’t believe in Starbucks, by the way. Either that or I don’t like their coffee, and as I result I am able to make a pretentions statement: “I don’t believe in Starbucks”. I was sitting there, drinking water purchased from another franchised establishment, and writing on the back of old receipts.
1.
Reaching from...
Going through this, a hard time, is like melting, except right before I turn completely to liquid, I freeze up immediately and turn into stone. Then I begin to melt again and I am never fully something. I wonder if I will be.
Hang it and crack
Bend at the knees and break at the bones
Dust in the kitchen and blood on the knuckles
Hang it and crack
Hack it, we’ll take it and break
The days are all paper plastered ceilings
Hang it and crack
Pull at the pieces and fill in your holes
Fill in the holes
Make me whole.
June 2008
10 posts
In the tension
In the spaces
That breathe between us
Lifting lungs
And blowing us further apart
Grab hold of the wreckage
Grab hold of my hand
I can never finish a poem.
I went to the library today to find that the author I was searching for had no shelf space in our little town. I mused the shelves and picked up some Sylvia Plath, “The Bell Jar, Dostoevsky’s, “The Adolescent”, and Dave Eggers, “A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius”. I started with the Eggers a few hours ago. I’m almost done. I wonder what this summer...
Who Knew Prose?
There is an anger that is inherent in my house. It has nothing to do with the expressions on our faces or the tones of our voices. It has nothing to do with the crows that sometimes perch on our wirey fence that encircles the closed pool, a sign of the colder seasons. It lives not in the dog, my dog, blind with old age, warm with golden fur, pure of heart, and always a little stupid. It lives in...
Last Night's Dream (Again)
Born without the paint
We sweep on our bodies
Signs of tribes and tribulations
Come to define our insides.
What of those
Who are marked by another
Who bare the burden of enemy pen?
Leaning on their lean and pestulant brothers,
Soul defies body and rattles the pen.
Let us out! Let us out!
Break us free of our numbers.
We’ll shake on our shackles,
‘Til your ears hear our...
The sweat drips from the tips of noses Sticks to the surface of our surface Moan and release the creases In your tee shirts Please patch the cracks in all the walls Pull your muscles towards the earth Fingers, nails, embrace the dirt Lift wide eyes towards the sunlight Exhale and recognize your thirst And in one moment You are worth what we are worth Connected at the roots Sprouts in our...
__________________________________________________________________
As visions of failure danced in my head
The notes left my lips and carried me off
Gestures were spilling from my fingers
And confusion from my eyes
What is this animal
That controls our hearts
In times of importance
In times of love
Fear will shake us
Grab hold.
Last Night's Dream
As she lept from the window They climbed up the stairs Feet hitting the pavement She’s saying her prayers And sounds of their anger Ring deep in her ears Heart pounding the concrete It’s beating in fear And knowing she’s followed By workboots and fists She’s weighed down by burden Her soul barely lifts Their gaining now, sweetheart You’d better run quick Their breath...
May 2008
26 posts
draecho: werewolph: at the summit of the mountains it’s there that you YOU if you squint and look beyond the crystal gates is the plateau which strangely, is where i am headed forever-eyes and endless laughtersmiles you maybe we should take a walk
Accordians are smushing. Is that what they do? New Yorkers are sipping as grey falls from blue. The great minds are typing With knuckle-haired hands, And laptops a buzzing Make maniacal plans. Stilettos are clicking On construction concrete. Caffine hearts racing Like late corporate feet. The sailor song’s slowing, A mind lulling knot. The intellect’s pndering His book’s novel...
I Miss Him
——————————————————————— I thought that our fingers, interwoven with time Would meld with eachother and dance to the band And our toes, worn and torn, after mountains we’d climbed Would meet under blankets and slip into sleep And what about our stomachs a...
I found this amongst old papers. I wrote it last spring. ——————————————————————————————————————- all a lying and still you’re crying sleeping to dream of nothing at...
WatchThis makes me so happy.
I just woke up. I had a dream that I was in hiding during the Holocaust with my friend who is in the IDF and my grandmother, a woman I never knew. It was really scary. —————————————- They felt scared So they hid In flower beds and back rooms They knew better They prepared For last words and brave faces They were stolen...
Come to the Edge
Come to the edge. We might fall. Come to the edge. It’s too high! Come to the edge! And they came, And he pushed, And they flew. —Christopher Logue
I have a sinking feeling that may have been the best poem I’ve ever written. Word.
D.R.E. and Me
This afternoon I listened To the rapper D.R.E And realized he’s a writer But not the same as me Cause I writed prosey nonsense And he writes badass shit I think I’ll buy a doorag And write about the cryps Cause white girls from Long Island Can still spit gangster game My tumblr will go platinum and Dre will say my name!