Sunday, April 24, 2005

Part 2 of New Poem: a.m.

THe graphical stuff won't show up on here, there is supposed to be a tab gap after every seven syllables except the first long line and the "Rain down warm.." bit. It should create a little path through the poem. but anyway, this is the second part of what i started last time...needs more wrk, hmmm...


a.m. You’re winding yourself around me like a soft soft string/our arms/ great sweet knots of heat/ they pack our selves, a gift enclosed/

I think

I’d like to cut you open with passion and a slit, lick that knows only love.
Hold picnics at the binding borders of your skin, make tiny bonfires of regret
Bring all that sugared sap up of you up to drink like fountains you will flow
Put my hand inside your Glory: O it is B e a u t i f u l, your vicious soul. It will

Pink movements of your lips, Great White hard hips you have, and a voice
That speaks fit to burst blue blue upon an endless story, those details
You thought long forgotten. Yes the trees that grow in your heart, the
Grasses and the vines that line the way, the birds and fires and lightning
On that path through you the lemon trees too, and sunny gardens, the Love and tomatoes. All of these I will tiptoe through, covered stealthy in your
Spirit skins leaving kisses, bites for signposts. Because sometimes it is the
Package that undoes the ribbon and it is
Red Red Ridinghood that wears the wolf.

Friday, April 22, 2005

white light white heat

So the romantic sagas continue. Listening to Mojave 3 (remember "Return to Sender" in Beijing in all those little bars and people's houses and stuff...that was so beautiful...I miss you all!!) and thinking that things are on the move move move. Making tough decisions...attempting to be practical despite myself, and yet finding myself in that extraordinary land of the exception. a grand and strange place to be... having been in this weird interstitial space between Will and the rest of humanity i feel like i am beginning to breathe again. beginnings. spring. you get the picture. Yup. I am seeing somebody new (remember the white contacts?) and in a healthy manner to boot although i still have to work out the late night jaunts to the bar of late (tuesdays and fridays...much mayhem, free booze and philosophy) with my crazy crazy bloke-previous are being re considered, if not cancelled.

THings are, hmmm...Bright white and bright orange and full of sexy images...

here's the beginning of a poem...i need feedback please....Ed, if you're listening, throw me a line.


white light

that slick of your back
put comma to curve make
Straight the way way way
out there, it became an
exclamation for me
a cry from below

put pen to paper
make a line curve to line
a swift motion that you
can fill with spirits

that time you gave me your hand
clench firm soft fingers tight
make light light light the night
and spread apart the sheets
of days where we can hide
like hibernation or honeymoon.

put pen to paper

and paint the inside


Thursday, April 14, 2005

An Apple Saved My Life.

An Apple Saved My Life.

These notes are nearing now the
Edge, by crook and minute
By slow percentage. I don’t ask you questions.

At some hour of lone morning when the
World is still dark I wonder where you are.
You are ok, you’ll make it, as a leaf on water

Maybe not happy or sad or lost or found
But floating and wandering round on currents
And sounds that push you. Push you further

Down the street where you will wait for me
Although I don’t know what it is for which you wait.
Because, You thought I was a different girl last night.

So maybe things are not right, and cannot be.
There are walls and castles, moats to your grief
And I have no tools to scale them. Petals

Of the flower you picked are on the table.
They are dried into the lips of love, and I will let
Them rest there, unbothered, as I must let you have

Your pain, that drugs do not dull. In bed
We, as comets arch the sky, with tails of talk
And moaning. Out of it, and in the soup of shifting

Society you frame your phrases bereft of the pillow's
Soft edge. I can only put my forehead to yours and wonder:
Because there is something burning there, but what it is…

Oh Mama, If only.

That apple saved your life, you said. Funny.
These sins of his that man puts on like make up every morning
Save you for the day ahead, a mask perhaps, of sugar.

Ask of me and I shall give you all the breaks that breach
Between my sanity and in, and every apple in the fridge.
But you want not to be the page of some bound book

And I don’t blame you.

Thursday, April 07, 2005


Yes, it's off to work I go. No, not my normal pottering about learning about chinese literature and freaking out about papers and going to conferences and all that jazz...I am talking about my internship this summer. The latest buzz is that I am going to be doing a lot of travelling...india, indonesia and malaysia!! So exciting!! I dunno what I am going to do for anybody, but I am going to be trained, programmed and put on that crazy Singaporean assembly line, so...we'll see! But it's pretty cool, no?

anyway, that's my news. I have to get on with the normal day to day stuff now. Ugh.

I have had an odd couple of days filled with random drunken flamboyant romantic gestures, toast at 5am and Japanese puppet theater...Bunraku rocks! Maybe I will see some puppet theatre in Indonesia...who knows?


Wednesday, April 06, 2005

Blues for 2am

New poem...

Blues for 2am

Blinded by the front room rug
Construct cat’s cradles of day to day.
With tea and memory I am PunchDrunk, honey


Reeling from a swift kick * lifting * and sick
Over body and soul. My man rocked me with one sturdy roll/
But not now no.
Now floating I wait for the gravity that brings hip to hip & lip/ to /lip.

Swallowing smoke rings, it is 2am.

Swallowing smoke rings

Swallowing smoke

Binding the blind light of hate to
The belly of this. As numb as nowt. As hopeful as knickers before a night out,
The hope that knows better…

But does it anyway

But does it

But does.

So I do it anyway.
In a river the colour of lead he said, Find
Ways to Feed the Dead. Ways to re-animate re-instate
But not Now, no.

For now I am leaving you, that corpse floating, on which I cut my teeth
Cut them to the nerve, and to the quick.
Because you never showed me how to do your trick, you
Kept it secret

Kept it


Because it used to be said that I made the best jelly roll in town,
That I made waves like an earthquake in the eiderdown
I am sitting in the cold talking to eyes of downcast blue
Planning an epicenter.
But You, No.

You never saw it

Never saw it


I raze you with silence from the sentence,
will level your temples, make cities new,
Arches in the honor of my reconstruction
Even as the bitterest hollows of my heart still love.

He lies in my bed a piece of white light embroidered
Hard With sleep, stretching his smooth belly along the sexy bed sheets
Like a snake and like you with his eyes just open, always watching.

He made of me a new religion,
Called me a goddess, bitchin’/
I said "Make unto me an idol


But not now."