Wednesday, January 20, 2010

thank you, moonshine

once in a while
(every 28 days to be exact)
we women go through a phase in
our moon cycle that sets off
emotion
rampaging, coursing through our veins
evermore surer
than before
and we women bear the brunt
and are sometimes ostracized
persecuted
punished for things in control of which
we are so obviously not.
(my tears have nothing to do with you anymore
and everything to with you now.)

Monday, January 18, 2010

why is it that i still can't see a picture of you without my heart skipping a beat?
(i can't seem to be rid of you)

Monday, January 11, 2010

patience

wondering whether you'll ever appear
feels like forever waiting
breathing softly and dressing in clothing
i know isn't mine
just in case you might notice me
again.

Sunday, January 10, 2010

back to the grind

as if we
never left we
sit with
tea in hand and
our computers light up our
weary faces on this
the first sunday night of the semester.
study group is hardly
togetherness when
we can't bear to
close our computers and
look each other in the eye.
and yet, we're here, at one table
thinking with
one single-track mind
and waiting for the moment when
we can each get the others out of the
messes we have found ourselves in.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

cold words

no way is there any reason for this to exist
without my approval or even my knowledge.
but it has, before, for years and it will, still
until the end.
the end of time.
my time, and thine.
instead i'll sit listening to silly
whispers of blowing snow blowing
past my nose and my toes and 
so it goes goes goes.

Sunday, January 3, 2010

useful uselessness

my fingers are cramped from
steering-wheel-gripping
and hair-shaking
and word-typing
and other things bent fingers are made to do.
chimpanzees and cavemen
had perma-bent fingers
curled for clubbing, for clawing
for walking on all fours.
does this mean i haven't evolved?
(sometimes i feel as though i've de-volved, 
becoming somewhat of a recluse while still clinging
to the awful truths of past lives)

i have a callous on the inside of my left thumb
it rose when i started high school
and hasn't disappeared.
my ticonderoga fits snuggly beside it.

my cuticles are chomped to the quick
for the most part.
biting them is a nervous habit
and something i do when i'm bored
or can't focus
or, really, at any time at all.
i have become obsessive about
evening them out
but all i seem to do is make them worse.

my fingernails are thin
stricken with calcium spots
(they are always thirsty for more
and my grandma never forgets to remind me)
i tend to remove the dirt from beneath them with my teeth.
i mean, they're already in my mouth, anyway,
what with the cuticle-evening and all.

cracked and porous my hand skin is
faintly freckled in the pale moonlight.
(i wash my hands somewhat compulsively,
and lotion them even more
in attempts to lessen the dryness)

when the temperature fluctuates quickly
my knuckles tense up
sometimes refusing to bend altogether.
it feels funny, because my fingers themselves are
stuck in this bent position.
movement becomes difficult here.

my fingers are so pudgy
each section spilling over into the next
the creases barely containing each.
they (the creases) are both horizontal
and vertical
and remain prominent in the bent position.
the dimples that my knuckles leave are always noticeable.

at my wrists there are
distinct separations between my hands and arms.
creases there, too, are ever-prominent and helpful in
deciphering where one part stops and the next begins.
(as if separating two body parts is beneficial for the evolved, de-volving survival)

Friday, January 1, 2010

those girls

we don't have ugly friends.
there must be something in the water or
something in the air surrounding this
place that we came from.
(we are beautiful)
and even during
holiday break when we
refuse to put on clothing
other than university sweatshirts
and high school sweatpants
we can still roll out of bed 
and present ourselves to one another.
(we didn't wash off our eye make-up and
forgot to tie back our hair)
so rather than going out and
getting down and
partying hardy we
are a different type of it girl
and together we can rise above the
assumptions made about our generation.
(we will single-handedly break hearts and take over the world.)

welcome

neatnik beatnik
tasty treat of 
innards forced outwards
to create a simple
(so simple)
image of the yesteryears in which
we became
who we started this new decade
as.

first, not quite the worst

good evening i say,
ready to face
the blowing drift twisting
of white powdery puffy stuff
outside my bedroom door.
(i have two doors that lead to my bedroom,
less for convenience than for necessity.)

out there are judgments
and opinions
and thoughts and words spoken
lightly or maybe more solidly
furious
like when people get upset about 
the state of affairs in which
we tend to live.

here, though, we have become isolated
and arguments are about groceries
and feelings
and nothing like the academia
from whence i came.
opinions stem from
nothing less than one local newspaper
that is slowly becoming a rag
i'd rather not wipe my feet on.
(strangely, it is that rag that started me on this writing rampage in the first place.)

enough, i say
ready to face another day
the next in a new decade of 
new newness fresh and clean
(a clean machine lifted me yesterday and
prepared me for this progression)
and maybe 
instead of braving the cold crisp air
and january firstness of weather attacks
i will wait to see
what the second will bring.