Monthly Archives: May 2015

Thoughts of Mine Today

I’m blowing on my arm to look at the goose bumps, so I have a texture to look at and distract me. Come back to me.

It’s such a comfort to complain.

There’s a mole on the inside of my left boob. I think you could use it to identify my body if someone cut off my head.

I had a plan for the afternoon. I was going to want to read, then read.

I started working. I don’t write anymore; I have to work. I had to write before.

I want to find the perfect thing on accident.

The car needs gas. He berates. I can’t believe the car needs more gas. You’d almost think it’s burning it.

I just want to hold you. Hold me. I want to be a person who wants to be held.

A train drives by the house a couple blocks away. Thunder coming, or wheel turning, could go either way. I miss living where the bugs sounded louder than the cars.

She sleeps in my presence. She trusts me then.

Tacky decorations pretend to be found by farmhouse garage sales.

My dementia-brain grandmother helps me understand people with thick accents. It takes patience to think you understand someone else.

He asks me, when he calls, about exact topics of worry and concern. They live on a checklist on the back of a Denny’s receipt. Is she healthy? Is she working? Does she need money? Then that’s it.

I hate to laugh at young people’s mistakes of inexperience. I did not want to be made fun of. I wanted the information to do it right, the way everyone else does, the first time.

You don’t need more food.

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Poems from my Week (5/28)

i am. a penniless, schedule keeper. but i thought i’d tell you about my week

1:
The dentist took my wisdom teeth.
I had to go back to his office.
I had to be polite
To the man who caused my week’s worth of pain.
He should sell himself as a weightloss specialist.

2:
They know who I am as soon to look.
Then I have to be the attitude they’re expecting,
Because they’re waiting for it,
They’re who I’ve always wanted to be.
They’re women who knew what to do with their hair,
Because their mothers told them,
Because their moms knew,
Because their moms cared what their hair looked like,
And not that they were late.

3:
I would much, very much like to know someone who would
Celebrate a very merry unbirthday to me, to you.
I want someone to push me,
Accuse me.
Ask me why didn’t you finish that when you were told.
I put more of you on paper as real.
I’m hoping you’re the one person of whom I can say,
“She knows me, she gets me, she understands.”
You know why I need to pour tea from a watering can and cry.

4:
I want to talk to you, but you’re high.
I can’t even tell the difference anymore.
When did I become a nag?
My mother bugged people like I’m starting to.
He doesn’t love me enough to stop.
I haven’t asked.
I can’t ask.
I can’t complain about something I haven’t spoken of.

5:
You’ll know me, then be bored of me, then leave me.
I am me without you,
I am me without you.
If I see you again,
It’ll all come back,
Like driving past elementary.

6:
The skin cancer man didn’t wear sunscreen,
Until the doctor told him:
Please continue, I have two kids to put through college.
Insult to the way you handle money,
Only to be pull off by a stranger in authority.

7:
Complain about yourself.
It can’t be your fault.
Oh, the most horrible thing happened.

8:
I cussed out the woman who lives in my phone.
She directed me to three closed coffeehouses
Before she found a tea place instead.
I wanted to hold her accountable, and couldn’t,
It’d be better if I could.

9:
Remind me to tell yous –
Are remembered after it’s been lost,
And it’s raining,
And your shoes are squeaking,
And the food is cold.

10:
She called – just to chat.
I talked for an hour.
Thursday night ramblings of weekends and weeks before and things and trees and shrubs.

Last Flowers of Late May

Photo of small white flowers decaying in late May

looks like popcorn, could be because I’m hungry. a bit dutch still-lifey this is.

Photo of a tree flowering

this seems like a photo of a tree that goes on a cover of a book. but, alas, i am no dendrologist

Photo of light purple flowers

color over composition. this could be one of those pinterest color palette nature inspiration things. if i cared.

My Week in Review

I got stuck at 16th and Washington. I remember you telling me you missed me. I passed the doughnut shop established when this was a working class neighborhood. I remember the first time you touched my knee, drunk.

I remember one time I was describing this African woman in an old Byzantine painting for Art History class. I said, “African American woman” instead of just African.

I took my dog for a walk in the park. She killed a groundhog. It squeaked a bit before she buried it.

I can’t get any closer to you without being on heights.

I thought I couldn’t win at Scrabble because I wasn’t as smart, until I saw people using normal words. She always had to be smarter than me, until I beat her at chess, and backgammon, and poker, and ping-pong. Now I live in fear of talking down to you.

I guess you have to try to find love so you have something to go for.

Typos are the misspeaking stutters you glaze over in normal conversation.

I don’t even know why I try to be original anymore. There’s nothing wrong with derivative works.

She didn’t know how miserable I was. I can’t blame her for not trying to fix that. I can blame her for not being there though. And I do. And I will. She asked me about it once in college, and I told her she wasn’t there. She started arguing with me. Then crying. Mostly crying.

I had to find a hat to go to the baseball game. I couldn’t go without the hat.

Tell me how to tell someone they’re bad with money. To have to be so careful. To watch it pitter away.

I talked over my Dad today and I didn’t care. He has nothing on me now. Only the requirements.

I drank a diet coke. I hate diet coke. But no one listened. Then I felt awkward about my weight.

The Park in March

photo of trees tinted red at sunset with the moon

these were taken back in march. red trees are creepy to me, makes me wonder what color the sap would be.

photo of cattails around a lake at sunset

if i were a person who liked to fish, i assume this would be the sense of peace i searched for

photo of a tree's bark peeling in early spring

this appeals to me visually. if i explain it i think it will make the weird tree bark magic go away. i have no clue why i like this. blah, blah no accounting for tastes or whatevs.

photo of decaying tree bark by the riverbed

the dead fraying bark looks like corn husks. i never thought there could be more than two shades of brown.

Poems from My Day (5/19)

i wrote ten of them. you know why.

1:
My dog led me along a thin and narrow path.
I followed her into the deep woods, into rivers
Under trees, I followed her.
We walked up a hill steep and narrow.
She yanked my arm,
Shot into the brush,
And brought me out a little squeaking groundhog.
I followed her while she buried it,
Then we went back to the car.
We had such a lovely time.

2:
She told me I have too much personality. These, hand brush, are cookie-cutters,
Like those boxes that only change from beige to brown,
You, you have too much you in you.

3:
If I wanted to,
I can find all your secrets. Anything you’ve tacked up.
It’s all still there.

4:
Who’s gonna pay for this?
Look at all this damage.
You did this to me.

5:
Tried a new place where the old Thai place used to be, had good drunken, sloppy, noodles.
I wanted to like it, for the spirit of the thing.
They showed off the same dusty black candle boxes, the same Vishnu painting with a mint tint.
The noodles were gummy and the chicken chewy.
I started singing Joni’s “don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone.”
And I didn’t laugh at someone else’s joke. I’m still going through my, I want to be stoic and not laugh all the time phase.
My cheeks hurt now when I smile.
Their sweetened condensed tea wasn’t bad. One day, I’ll be on time. I’ll find the place I love and it won’t close before I’ve had my fill.
Too fancy philosophical for closing Thai restaurants? Yeah, I thought so.

6:
I drive over the limit when I’m surrounded in traffic.
But when I drive at two, after a Saturday of whatever it was,
I go the 55 exactly. I’m accountable more to myself than to the waves, then, I suppose.
I hear as my car starts to struggle with the second switch, my second switch hasn’t worked since I have to be exhausted to sleep.

7:
One of these I wrote for you, you know.
I’ll give you a hint. It was a love poem. Not that I write a lot of love poetry, or good love poetry, or good poetry at all. (I’m not fishing, don’t send me things, you butts)
I just want to talk with you. But I don’t know how to get you to open your instructions.
And if you do start talking, I don’t know what to say. I’ll say something to make you go away again. I always do. Then I miss you.
You said that to me once. I missed you. It made my day, you know? No you don’t.
I’ll be flying with my fancies over this way. Belittling myself again.

8:
I had to tell a story about something fun I did with my best friend from childhood. I couldn’t think of one.
And I started telling it and got that feeling of being boring, and made it worse.
I trapped myself, then got mad at being trapped, then made myself stuck.
We must have done something that was nice, that I don’t associate with embarrassment, shame, penance and disgust. And now I can’t think of any gleeful memory.
They’re only happy when I’m in a certain mood.

9:
So, then, big power in my mind.
I just get the one, then?
She gets me. She’s smarter, and funny as hell, I want to write down everything she says,
Mystical magical.
Same soul.
I just get the one though? I need another, please. Where do I fill out my form?
I’ll get on stage and recite lines for you. I want someone to know me.
Someone I’m not scared to hide the sections of me I only tell the dogs and strangers.
I tried to give it to someone else, pushed it, dropped, stained my floor, still there now, part of the furniture.

10:
I’ll never be good enough. Enough for me.
The competitive me wants more.
The styrofoam container kid in church, says you work for goodness.
But I still take comfort, sometimes, in thinking that the meek have something.
We’re supposed to get the Earth. I think I have that on a magic card as manna.

Taken from the Museum

photo of a woman standing in front of a series of portraits in the museum

i sat on this bench. this was a nice bench. then i took a photo from the bench

Photo of people standin in a gallery of the art institue of chicago

loose aperture ring made the edges black. we’re going to pretend it’s a technique honed from many years of study with ancient man of the himalayas

photo of the american folk art gallery in the art institute

this hallway gallery smelled a bit musty. i think i would be more worried if a folk art gallery didn’t