A short, unedited poem that I wrote on a fifteen minute break from editing Ghosts I Have Loved, and not-writing Dante in Wonderland, or whatever it's going to be called.

Also, if someone can tell me why livejournal's spellcheck is so awful, I would be grateful.

my father, lost in the orange groves

i dreamt it so often that i stopped
counting the ( Read more... )

dante alighieri's adventures in wonderland.

Good idea or awful idea?

Some more unedited crap to be edited next month. Poetry is like my shameful mistress, and she's not quite as good-looking or charming as Fiction, so I never shower or put on make-up before going to see her. But she likes me way more than I like her, so she's good for ego gratification, on occasion. I guess, whatever, it's late.

Anyway, at this point ( Read more... )

Guys, guys, this is not the title, but I typed this thing directly into livejournal, so (a) it has not been edited and (b) I hate livejournal's spellcheck, so every single word is probably spelled wrong. Anyway, whatever, I'm not editing these things until June, because I'm lazy and I want you to have to figure out that I mean "definitely" every ( Read more... )

So, is it totally lame that I've spent all night making book covers for fake novels that my characters wrote?


( Read more... )

This needs to be edited, but I am too lazy to do it  --- ever, and so I will just post it here instead.

heartbroken in east berlin: january through april, four months in four parts

one

my hands never stop moving.

they're the product of a blunt
meditative anxiety, the hangnails,
the pruned thumb, but when you
look at them -

(bukowski had a bluebird
 but i ( Read more... )

INTERNETS I HAVE THEM

YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY


( Read more... )

OMG YOU GUYS, I'M STILL ALIVE I JUST MOVED AND I HAVE NO INTERNET YET AND OMG ( Read more... )

Today, I like: orange spice tea, heavy curtains, Beethoven's Lacrimosa in D minor, the smell of antiseptic floor cleaner, exuberant animals, textbooks, leather journals, pens in unusual colors, puzzles, serendipity, the passenger seat, Subclass Coleoidea, Jules Verne, Nabokov's word choices, silence, and bare feet.

Now, you tell me yours.

this doesn't have a name because it's another ones of those poems that i wrote in
20 minutes instead of paying attention to microbial ecology (but it's late and i'm tired, and those are my excuses.)

(post title -- in fact, i'm stuck in this class until 9:50, someone help me. )

it's somewhere between the shelf
where college textbooks rest aslant
and a ( Read more... )