Champagne Chantilly
I am a cloud of ethereal white.
Your hands ground me
Twine around me
Instrumental squeeze on my hips
Fingers fly and chasing lips
Paint moving images of bliss.
Cloud of satin rains
To Egyptian cotton ground
And you
unwrapped pressed black and white
Vibrant warm honey
Rushing flow of skin on skin
Heat thaws winter
The small of my back
Traced up and into my hair
The sun climbs the sky
Trees blossom
We are there.
Friday, December 2, 2011
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Who Needs A Resort? (REVISED "I Can't Pack It In My Suitcase")
A traveling home
Is quite useful.
Warm and inviting
That familiar scent
Entwines my body
And calms yet sharpens
My senses.
I feel empowered
By this small
Isle
that is far from
deserted,
With secreted
Treasure
I don't want to share.
I have seen many
Different sceneries
Yet the landscape remains;
I love to tell you
You’re my favorite place in the world.
Is quite useful.
Warm and inviting
That familiar scent
Entwines my body
And calms yet sharpens
My senses.
I feel empowered
By this small
Isle
that is far from
deserted,
With secreted
Treasure
I don't want to share.
I have seen many
Different sceneries
Yet the landscape remains;
I love to tell you
You’re my favorite place in the world.
A Walk In My Shoes
Shoe selection is self-expression.
Shoes are life-companions;
They support, encourage,
invigorate, complement
And protect.
In high school
I bought these
Brown, shoelaceless
Imitation chucks.
I loved them dearly
Wore them about to death
But they didn’t really support me
And it didn’t last well
Even though I held on for a couple years
And kept them stashed in my closet
Out of affection.
I used to buy
A lot of cheap shoes
And sometimes I still do
Just for fun
But never seriously
Because they tire my feet
And fall apart at the first sign
Of things going wrong.
I’ve learned to let them go.
My serious relationships
Are athletic shoes now.
My Nikes are faithful
And last five years
And although I run them down
We fit together.
My Tom’s are unique
And complement me
Sharing my love of words
And of real materials that make a difference
In other people’s lives.
I can’t say they’re overly helpful in
A real crisis
And I’ve slid around in the rain
But they’re not bad.
There are sassy black heels
That shine and lift me up
A few inches from reality.
They look good for any
Classy occasion,
Even though in daylight
They look slightly foolish
And pretentious-
They’re far too loud clacking in hallways
But like every girl has to have a little black dress
They’re my necessary girly shoes-
And I’d never go out without them.
There are summer fling flip-flops
Stalwart flats that go with everything
Heeled boots for winter formal
Neon green netted mix-it-up shoes
Tough steel-toed work shoes
Yet I still window shop
And still dream of epic romance
Because the best shoes can’t be
Behind me.
I looked at some wannabe chucks
The other day.
They were exactly
What I would have worn
In high school
And I played around with the idea
Of taking them home.
Many friends thought they were great
But in the end I couldn’t commit
To a pair of shoes
That just weren’t a good fit.
Shoes are life-companions;
They support, encourage,
invigorate, complement
And protect.
In high school
I bought these
Brown, shoelaceless
Imitation chucks.
I loved them dearly
Wore them about to death
But they didn’t really support me
And it didn’t last well
Even though I held on for a couple years
And kept them stashed in my closet
Out of affection.
I used to buy
A lot of cheap shoes
And sometimes I still do
Just for fun
But never seriously
Because they tire my feet
And fall apart at the first sign
Of things going wrong.
I’ve learned to let them go.
My serious relationships
Are athletic shoes now.
My Nikes are faithful
And last five years
And although I run them down
We fit together.
My Tom’s are unique
And complement me
Sharing my love of words
And of real materials that make a difference
In other people’s lives.
I can’t say they’re overly helpful in
A real crisis
And I’ve slid around in the rain
But they’re not bad.
There are sassy black heels
That shine and lift me up
A few inches from reality.
They look good for any
Classy occasion,
Even though in daylight
They look slightly foolish
And pretentious-
They’re far too loud clacking in hallways
But like every girl has to have a little black dress
They’re my necessary girly shoes-
And I’d never go out without them.
There are summer fling flip-flops
Stalwart flats that go with everything
Heeled boots for winter formal
Neon green netted mix-it-up shoes
Tough steel-toed work shoes
Yet I still window shop
And still dream of epic romance
Because the best shoes can’t be
Behind me.
I looked at some wannabe chucks
The other day.
They were exactly
What I would have worn
In high school
And I played around with the idea
Of taking them home.
Many friends thought they were great
But in the end I couldn’t commit
To a pair of shoes
That just weren’t a good fit.
I Feel Like a War-Torn Country (REVISED "The Day After")
Brushing my hair, I swiftly sheaved bedraggled tired strands into a band,
And mirrored I saw the three glaring spots on my forearm
Where my skin screamed in protest
At your strength battling mine.
But a break-up breaks us up
And I nearly snapped
entirely.
Outside, it froze unfeeling and foggy, the trees dipped in white-out and I
Thought it appropriate for such a day to see and feel nothing
When you vanished like foliage to frost
From my heart's lush garden
Leaving only bruises
To keep me alive.
And mirrored I saw the three glaring spots on my forearm
Where my skin screamed in protest
At your strength battling mine.
But a break-up breaks us up
And I nearly snapped
entirely.
Outside, it froze unfeeling and foggy, the trees dipped in white-out and I
Thought it appropriate for such a day to see and feel nothing
When you vanished like foliage to frost
From my heart's lush garden
Leaving only bruises
To keep me alive.
ENGL 306/406
Ten steps from the door
Slide onto a cold plastic seat
Burnt orange, earth brown, faded yellow, beige.
A color palate from the 70s seems appropriate
For a room that speaks to individuals
A tie-dye experience coloring perspectives
Sitting spiraled around the edges
We are all equal
But a specter of a spectrum
Often violently colliding.
We are a poetry class-
Would you expect any different?
It’s like late night channel surfing
Or following random links on youtube
That may be completely different
Even when created about the same thing,
Yet you can’t stop watching in wonderment.
It’s like finding out you can eat peanut butter on celery
Or you can wear black and brown if you want
Or being shocked by unexpectedly encountering your reflection;
It’s 80 minutes I don’t count or dread, but live.
Slide onto a cold plastic seat
Burnt orange, earth brown, faded yellow, beige.
A color palate from the 70s seems appropriate
For a room that speaks to individuals
A tie-dye experience coloring perspectives
Sitting spiraled around the edges
We are all equal
But a specter of a spectrum
Often violently colliding.
We are a poetry class-
Would you expect any different?
It’s like late night channel surfing
Or following random links on youtube
That may be completely different
Even when created about the same thing,
Yet you can’t stop watching in wonderment.
It’s like finding out you can eat peanut butter on celery
Or you can wear black and brown if you want
Or being shocked by unexpectedly encountering your reflection;
It’s 80 minutes I don’t count or dread, but live.
Driving
The hum of the engine comforts her now
Legs pressed against the cheap stitched plastic seats
The humidity is fleeting and the evening chill sets in
Four windows rolled down accepting the wind
She sniffs and sucks in her lips and swallows.
The mascara ran away when she did.
The wind teases her hair wild.
She has never been so solitary.
Arms here and there used to entwine her
Give her warmth and a heart beat to mask her own
But they ended up being briars and thorns
Scratching and clawing and taking chunks of her
With each swift pass
She ran.
The dotted yellow line flashes faster as her foot
Leans forward onto the gas pedal
The cadence of four tire treads on the freeway
Echoing the blood pounding in her ears
RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!
She inhales deeply, her breath catching on her jagged-edged heart
Broken glass in blood, a black eye, a purple thigh.
If only these were the only trace.
Legs pressed against the cheap stitched plastic seats
The humidity is fleeting and the evening chill sets in
Four windows rolled down accepting the wind
She sniffs and sucks in her lips and swallows.
The mascara ran away when she did.
The wind teases her hair wild.
She has never been so solitary.
Arms here and there used to entwine her
Give her warmth and a heart beat to mask her own
But they ended up being briars and thorns
Scratching and clawing and taking chunks of her
With each swift pass
She ran.
The dotted yellow line flashes faster as her foot
Leans forward onto the gas pedal
The cadence of four tire treads on the freeway
Echoing the blood pounding in her ears
RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN! RUN!
She inhales deeply, her breath catching on her jagged-edged heart
Broken glass in blood, a black eye, a purple thigh.
If only these were the only trace.
I Can't Pack It In My Suitcase
A traveling home
Is quite useful.
Emanating heat
That familiar scent
Entwines my body
And calms yet sharpens
My senses.
I have seen many
Different sceneries
Yet the landscape remains;
I love to tell you
You’re my favorite
place
In the world.
Is quite useful.
Emanating heat
That familiar scent
Entwines my body
And calms yet sharpens
My senses.
I have seen many
Different sceneries
Yet the landscape remains;
I love to tell you
You’re my favorite
place
In the world.
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