Tag Archives: experience

Art Institue Poems


Marked and stated historical building.
Black and silver desk with sad and silver women behind it.
Took our cards and gave onceovers in return.
We paid one month of my rent for a night, but got more space and coffee packs.
She called down for soap. All those fancy towels and nothing in the dish.
Way it goes.
I went supernova on the couch with coral reefs and, I’m good with this, phone.
The desk couldn’t hold my whole laptop.
But the fancy pens and embossedness had their own box in their own drawer.
I sat on the pink velvet window seat and gazed lovingly at the apartment building next door.
It was all I could see.
Who wants to pay for faster internet when you’ve already paid for sheets?
I got carded by the couple in the elevator.
“Touring colleges?”
No, here for a wrongful death suit.
Wish I had the courage to say even some of what was on my mind.

It opened at 10:30. There at 11.
Central time, central time, central time.
All, day, whole day in the art museum.
I wandered with Europeans, and felt dingy.

I met this wonderful hunched woman with dyed red permed hair next to the triptych on one of the deaths of Christ.
She told me about the catholic myths in her southern South American and told me to look at the details. Her daughter lives here in the city. We walked piece to piece, getting yelled at by guards for being too close behind the still ropes.
I made a soul-friend with a woman who’ll die before my wedding, and who I’ll never greet again.
I find myself wondering, wondering a lot actually, but in this case, wondering if I’ve ever changed the way people think so I become part of their shortcut to a memory for worse thoughts.
How scary to think I could live in someone else’s memory without permission.
What do I do up there all day in their heads?
Probably make new soul friends with passerbys staring too long at the dutch egg details.

I crashed on an unused bench in the textiles room behind the paperweights and the tiny chairs.
The guards checked on me every couple minutes.
But it was me and the patterns and the corners.
The longer I looked at the blue stamp printed tulips, the more I thought furniture.
I am furniture.
It was so peaceful, you’d get the women wearing clothes so they hoped to get photographed for fashion blogs. But it was me and whirring conditioners for thought and hooks and placards and planned space that kept me there listening for me to say I’m ready.

We experienced the naked men statues of someone called Ray something.
We surmised he was famous, used our whole brains for that we did.
Truly, too many naked men.
The spraypainted silver statues, maybe he watched too much Goldfinger,
Looked trapped and chilly.
My feet hurt. I want to walk on carpet.
Let’s go home where we don’t have to hold our heads higher than the smarter richer.
I’m imaged out. Show me empty fields without too much color thoughts.

Only the homeless guys I don’t give money to bless me by God on the street.
Your eyes are your best feature, and they disappear when you smile.
The drivers in the low-riding big headlight red sports cars drive the speed limit.
They handed me prom dresses to try with a number missing in front of the size.
Old women with part dark brains ask me how I am and mean it.
I’m going back home where I know what to be scared of.


10 Poems in 20 Minutes (1-24)

I tried to write a poem today, but couldn’t get started. So instead I gave myself a time limit. I’m not sure if it was worth it.

I Wrote 10 Poems in 20 Minutes
Day: January 24th

Poem 1:
They must not realize
They can’t.
Everyday an insult
A slight
Something that hurts somewhere.
I can get used it.
I don’t have a choice.

Poem 2:
I took down the Christmas decorations
Because I was told.
If you tell me,
I’ll do it.
But it will have no heart.
Only the work there.
All the work I do,
I tell myself to,
So there’s holiday missing somewhere else.

Poem 3:
He told me I was cute.
I don’t want to be,
I want beauty.
I settle
For this thing you give me
You give me the want
To put on makeup.
I want to change me for you.

Poem 4:
Only for winter
In my tired brain
It says:
Never leave here please
Stay where it’s warm
You don’t have to go
It’s all here
I can protect you here
It can’t go wrong.
But I have to get up to eat.

Poem 5:
Eating Thai
He says I like flied lice.
I look at his wife.
She says, it’s just silliness,
With her shoulders.
I stare at her.
She tells me to calm down
With a tug at a frown.
I eat my meal paid by her
And hate myself for not saying.

Poem 6:
If and when
I call you on the phone
Don’t give me advice
When I complain.
Just listen, please.
I know the things you say
Are right
True and proper.
But I don’t care.
I want to complain.
Listen to me whine.
Don’t make it better,
Don’t try.
Let me cry please
Without making it wrong.
By saying you shouldn’t
By improving me.

Poem 7:
My experience should mean little
To who I am.
My worth, I mean.
I may have lived under a great big house.
But you do not tease me for things I have not done.
You cannot know me,
Or find out why I did not do
What you seem fit to push me for.
You do not joke about my value that way.
Do not call me a child, baby, little girl,
For you do not know, I haven’t told you,
And now never will.

Poem 8:
I want.
For sure I want.
Wanted hasn’t happened here with envy in so long.
Sit with me when I’m sick.
I feel bad alone.

Poem 9:
I didn’t do what I should have done
In your eyes.
I don’t know if I could see through your vision.
You don’t try to understand anyone:
Your way is best.
They should all see it my way.
It’s simple, and direct,
Don’t have to think about all that they seem to be saying.

Poem 10:
He said,
Thank you.
I said, no problem.
I hate you in my heart.
But I’m polite.
Never confuse kindness with polite.
One is curtsey
One doesn’t exist without motive.