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more poem game: no-zoneJohn and I were going down a back road,more poem game: no-zone
forty-five, and climbing,
the hills rising and falling beneath the axles of the pickup.
He lightened up his foot when we approached the eighteen-wheeler.
The black and yellow sign up on the back forewarned us: "Caution, No-Zone. Fifteen feet.”
I turned to John and smiled.
This no-man's land was warmer than the driver could have known,
though of course he should have had an idea.
(A pickup truck with blankets in the back?
Two randy young kids,
driving, bumping, out behind tobacco fields?)
We laughed
by ~sirenstat
Silica Gel - More poem gameEvery time I buy new shoes and am feeling around in the box for tags I come across the tiny squares,Silica Gel - More poem game
the packets of silica gel.
In general, I can toss them away.
I do not eat them.
This weekend, though,
you were rather angry with me,
and I walked seven miles in high heels,
my feet swelled up with blisters and spots of blood.
When I got home I tore the packet open and sprinkled all the crystals on my feet.
It stung a bit,
and I ground it in with my fingers.
This morning I woke up
to green and purple feet &nbs
by ~sirenstat
Gold Coast MorningAll those months that I slept in I had forgotten the autonomy of the morning.Gold Coast Morning
(Especially the mornings, like today,
which have no jobs that must be done.)
I am walking along the lakefront in high heels.
There’s a blister rising on my toe,
but the day is what I build it to be.
The carnival on the pier is out of sight
and wrapped in fog. The women are out on the balconies in silk pajamas,
sipping tea, even though this is America,
and we are asserting ourselves at war.
One of them is laughing, a high-pitched silver sound.
The woman be
by ~sirenstat
Squash --- For MollyThe first people from our Chicago school to whom I was introduced were entirely unremarkable.Squash --- For Molly
Oh yes, certainly wealthy,
and I think one of their daughters had large breasts.
But besides that, nothing out of the
ordinary for the school.
At least they cooked themselves.
I watched the mother pull the trays, out of the oven,
steaming rows of roasted butternut squash,
orange and green and blackened at the sides.
I had never eaten squash out of the rind with a spoon and knife before.
I haven’t eaten it that way since then,
by ~sirenstat
Random Favourites
UnspeakableI don’t need these words. They only cloud What you and I know is true.Unspeakable
But this damnable urge persists, This human need to quantify What would only tarnish
In such a base cage as words.
So I leave you with this: A curious warmth, tinged With sadness and that unshakable faith Of the ignorant.
by ~robinhoodx1030x
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Devious Info
- Current Residence: Chicago, but not really Chicago, because it's really Connecticut, but no, it's Chicago...
- Interests: dancing, pretending I'm creative, staring at attractive people on the train
- Favourite movie: How to Steal a Million (I think that's it, anyways.)
- Favourite band or musician: I like far too many.
- Favourite genre of music: Soft alternative that has a beat and smart lyrics, and hopefully that "goes somewhere".
- Favourite artist: Edward Hopper, I presume. Though I have a soft spot for Warhol, in a fond sort of way.
- Favourite poet or writer: W.H. Auden (for cadence), Miranda July (for strangeness), Billy Collins (for funny!)
- Favourite photographer: Does Man Ray count?
- Operating System: I run the latest OS of Mac. I've run Macs my whole life. It's what I do.
- MP3 player of choice: iPod mini (but that's not by choice, it's by budget.)
- Shell of choice: I prefer walls. Complete with a moat.
- Wallpaper of choice: A still from this short movie where they dropped thousands of superballs on a street in San Fran.
- Skin of choice: Bare skin is always nice.
- Favourite game: Love, baby, Love. It has the best payoffs.
- Favourite gaming platform: A big grassy field?
- Favourite cartoon character: Probably the brunette in ".hack//SIGN". She's rather nifty.
- Personal Quote: One day I'm going to write a novel about it all and put you in it. What's your name?
- Tools of the Trade: three languages, several years of turmoil, hope, unrelenting libido, pretension, self-mockery
- Website: http://skinofourteeth.livejournal.com
- AIM: CinnamonCrane
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--
"A casual stroll through the lunatic asylum shows that faith does not prove anything." ~Nietzche
--
"You cheap factualist bitch! Go and never darken my rumpus room again!" -William S. Burroughs
--
gotta kick at the dark until it bleeds daylight
[barenaked ladies]
--
"You cheap factualist bitch! Go and never darken my rumpus room again!" -William S. Burroughs
[insert hearts, stars, and horseshoes here]
--
gotta kick at the dark until it bleeds daylight
[barenaked ladies]
You might have mentioned, but I'm really aquiring a taste for redundancy. Really.
Oh, and the feeling is mutual, in case you were wondering.
<3 <3 <3
ugly, but they mean the same.
*glomps*
yay ^_^
--
curiouser and curiouser!
--
gotta kick at the dark until it bleeds daylight
[barenaked ladies]
Cool stuff in there.
I'm both scared and intrigued by your lips in the myspacey-like mirror portrait.
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