need...poetry...
i'm beginning to believe breene might be on to something. he claims whenever he predicts aloud that he will have a good day, he has a bad day instead. so i'm going to stop saying out loud when i get up on wednesdays that i'm going to poetry, hell or high water. because hell and/or high water always happen.
i bet it was really good. i bet history was made in oklahoma city tonight, a landmark, groundbreaking, world-changing poem was uttered, perfectly formed words caught rides on smoke rings and swirled just under the ceiling tiles like intoxicated ghosts.
i remember poetry. i remember what the inside of galileo's looks like, i swear i do. i used to write poetry in what now feels like a past life. boo-friggin-hoo. i hate whining, especially my own.
we're all sick and wimpy around here. i don't know who got the bug first, but i'm the last to get it. we three take turns playing nursemaid, providing sympathy. breene's pretty good at mothering - he read me a bedtime story last night, no lie. if only he could carry me...
thanks, maxey, for your technical assistance with this piece of crap computer on saturday. pree-she-ate cha. hope you're feeling better soon. i've long suspected you don't have a normal bone in your body, but nerves? who'da guessed? ;o)
fortune cookie for the day: snap judgements are bad. the first time i heard cassandra wilson i said she was too weird, now i can't get enough. fascinating cd.
which reminds me:
a poem for my friend Cassondra who moved away
there you are
a thousand miles away with a headful of
memories just like mine, viewed from a
different angle. what did my smile
look like that night you talked me
into more than i ever would have dared?
i could tell you about your eyes
what it was in them that always
made me fearless and brazen,
but now i'm afraid
i'd embarrass us both.
my judgment was always off.
whenever i followed your advice
no matter how outlandish the dare
it went off without a hitch,
without a ripple. a collection
of perfect crimes i carry in my head
stacked neatly beneath the picture
of your eyes, cds of those old songs,
the smell of summer nights
with the top down, the taste of tears,
the beginning of this longing when you left
with half my memories.
i bet it was really good. i bet history was made in oklahoma city tonight, a landmark, groundbreaking, world-changing poem was uttered, perfectly formed words caught rides on smoke rings and swirled just under the ceiling tiles like intoxicated ghosts.
i remember poetry. i remember what the inside of galileo's looks like, i swear i do. i used to write poetry in what now feels like a past life. boo-friggin-hoo. i hate whining, especially my own.
we're all sick and wimpy around here. i don't know who got the bug first, but i'm the last to get it. we three take turns playing nursemaid, providing sympathy. breene's pretty good at mothering - he read me a bedtime story last night, no lie. if only he could carry me...
thanks, maxey, for your technical assistance with this piece of crap computer on saturday. pree-she-ate cha. hope you're feeling better soon. i've long suspected you don't have a normal bone in your body, but nerves? who'da guessed? ;o)
fortune cookie for the day: snap judgements are bad. the first time i heard cassandra wilson i said she was too weird, now i can't get enough. fascinating cd.
which reminds me:
a poem for my friend Cassondra who moved away
there you are
a thousand miles away with a headful of
memories just like mine, viewed from a
different angle. what did my smile
look like that night you talked me
into more than i ever would have dared?
i could tell you about your eyes
what it was in them that always
made me fearless and brazen,
but now i'm afraid
i'd embarrass us both.
my judgment was always off.
whenever i followed your advice
no matter how outlandish the dare
it went off without a hitch,
without a ripple. a collection
of perfect crimes i carry in my head
stacked neatly beneath the picture
of your eyes, cds of those old songs,
the smell of summer nights
with the top down, the taste of tears,
the beginning of this longing when you left
with half my memories.