cognitive flame

slap

jagged handprint on left cheek
jagged handprint on her right
and bruises
blackandblue
andrainbow colors
and aquamarine
and clementine turquoise
neonchartreuse magnoliabeige
blackwhite,
blacklightpurple cranberryvodkared
bruises
on her heart

(but where, where oh where to draw the line?)

Capitalism

A little girl sat outside on the streets
with a J. Crew magazine open at her feet,
dreaming of a yellow-rubber-ducky colored jacket
arriving in a package at a home she didn't have.
Something seems amiss when the power seems to shift,
and a woman's worth is judged by the clothing on her back,
but that's the price you'll pay when a classy little lady
charges three hundred and eighty for the coat you'll never wear.
When did we decided to hide behind the walls
of plastic-aided debts and nosey phone calls?
You're nothing but that coat which still hangs unused
while the dreamy little girl suffers from abuse.

i forgot this page existed

numbers, numbers, everything is numbers
110 calories
240 calories
60 calories x 2
40 calories x 3
300 calories
numbers
10 calories/min.
11 or 12.
13 sometimes.
burn.
burn.
consume. consume. consumeumeume.
growing, shriking, growing, shrinking,
numbers, numbers...
count
count
count
not count
forget to count
intentionally don't count
lie to self, lie to others.
consume numbers
empty.
emptiness
empty, round, wholesome zero. wholesole whole grain no-trans-fat zero.
shrinking. growing. three too many chocolate chip cookies. sit and festerfesterfester.
numbers
just numbers
numbers to fuel and burn and grow and plumpify
ugly
ugly
cant live up to standards of society or self or neighbors
inadequate
control? none.
growing growing, swelling, mellon body, cannonball, anvil, lead weight shoe prints, breaking the floor with each step. maximum elevator weight, break the scale.
growing.
forraging for more.
growing.
inflating, beachballflabbiness. growing
flabbygrossnessstretchingoozing
becoming dpy-unc tub of lard blemish on the face of humanity.
disordered eating: femininity at its finest

.

demolished.
broken.
unfocused lenswork capturing a blurry world.
demolished. broken.
scraping together a life of scars and citalopram.

meaninglesssexwithmeaninglesspeople
booze
late nights
smoke rings

demolished.
broken.
bitter and uneducated in the ways of the world.
scarred.

scarred.

dying and dead.

end

the whole poem-a-day thing didn't work out.

Day Eight

Lips smothered in rouge,
eyes hidden in ebony:
Femme fatale reborn.

cambridge, ma. vs

Day Seven

Glow-in-the-dark souls
burning with the innocence
of naive children.

pittsburgh, pa. jerry&katie.

Day Six

Leaves lie dead on trees,
and the wind nips at my nose:
Winter approaches.

boston, ma. common flower.

Day Five

[daydream of sleeping]
i'm wearing time delay goggles
and all thoughts are disconnected.
the hours keep passing, but i remain stagnant:
droid
void
empty&blank
silent
& sleep deprived.

gastonia, nc. martha rivers park.

Day Four

covering
his face
with
spackle
he watches
blood
splatter on
black paint
dancing on
white walls

gastonia, nc. injury.

Day Three

i sat on a bed
with my hands on my head
and said:

i can't calculate how long it will take to fall from the edge of the atmosphere

cambridge, ma. museum of science.

Day Two

there is a little man hiding in my pocketbook who lives off tictacs and tampons.
i bring him out now and then to entertain my friends
but he's rather shy.

i don't know where he came from
and i don't care.

i have a little man in my pocketbook
and you are JEALOUS of me

cambridge, ma. window.

Day One

driving
d.....roving
d.........rove
d...........roven
d...........rive
d.........riven
d......rived
droved         RIVEN to be
                                 to succeed
                                 (to impeed the progress of others for personal goals....
                                       to lose site of oneself...
                                             to forget the forgotten
                                                   and forfit the right to call me a failure)

pittsburgh, pa. andy warhol museum.

Everyday. For a year.

Last week, I was fortunate enough to meet Suzan-Lori Parks, a Pulitzer Prize Winning author. A few years ago, she undertook a massive project called "365 days, 365 plays," and wrote a play a day for a year. Her project is now opening in 15 venues across the nation in mid-November.

I understand the value of doing something just to do it. I was once a vegetarian for a year just to see what it was like.

I'm going to be a poet for a year, just to see what it's like. I'm going to be a photographer for a year, just to see what it's like.

Welcome. A poem a day, for a year. A photo a day, for a year. From November 4th, 2006 to November 4th, 2007. This could get ugly....

(Special thanks to SLP, Dan, Dilan, Cibbo, and Mom)

it's been awhile

it's been awhile since i posted anything on this page...
all the old comments on my works were all deleted when the server changed, which is rather sad. but oh well.

"i have no uvula"

i seriously don't...