feminism and asperger's
I Stop Writing the Poem
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
or who dies, I'm still a woman.
I'll always have plenty to do.
I bring the arms of his shirt
together. Nothing can stop
our tenderness. I'll get back
the the poem. I'll get back to being
a woman. But for now
there's a shirt, a giant shirt
in my hands, and somewhere a small girl
standing next to her mother
watching to see how it's done.
i've never been one for feminist poetry or feminist anything really, but when i read this poem today, it touched me so that i cried without ceasing for quite sometime. maybe, i'm just pms-ing, (ha, the irony.)
okay so with this and the new boook that just came to my house which is hardly new at all, the sexual contract, i'm going to have quite the feminist weekend. it wasn't at all intentional. i just hope come monday morning i'm still shaving my legs.
ugh, i think i have mono or something. i have no energy and i've been sick for two weeks now.
yesterday i had the best idea for a collection of poems, and i re-evaluated my approach to catharsis, volume I, my loosely planned autobiography (it's more of a concept now, apparently i'm not as much of a narcissist as i thought i was).
p to the s. a few days ago as my mom was talkign about this student of hers, i mentioned that he may have asperger's. she looked it up online and said that all of the symptoms fit with her experience of him. she called his very desparate and worried mother, who will bring him to be tested on monday. too bad noah can't read this. if this kid does in fact have asperger's, and i hadn't been friends with noah, he'd remain without knowledge of the inner-"demons" that plague him. le sigh. thanks noah wherever you are.
to fold the clothes. No matter who lives
or who dies, I'm still a woman.
I'll always have plenty to do.
I bring the arms of his shirt
together. Nothing can stop
our tenderness. I'll get back
the the poem. I'll get back to being
a woman. But for now
there's a shirt, a giant shirt
in my hands, and somewhere a small girl
standing next to her mother
watching to see how it's done.
i've never been one for feminist poetry or feminist anything really, but when i read this poem today, it touched me so that i cried without ceasing for quite sometime. maybe, i'm just pms-ing, (ha, the irony.)
okay so with this and the new boook that just came to my house which is hardly new at all, the sexual contract, i'm going to have quite the feminist weekend. it wasn't at all intentional. i just hope come monday morning i'm still shaving my legs.
ugh, i think i have mono or something. i have no energy and i've been sick for two weeks now.
yesterday i had the best idea for a collection of poems, and i re-evaluated my approach to catharsis, volume I, my loosely planned autobiography (it's more of a concept now, apparently i'm not as much of a narcissist as i thought i was).
p to the s. a few days ago as my mom was talkign about this student of hers, i mentioned that he may have asperger's. she looked it up online and said that all of the symptoms fit with her experience of him. she called his very desparate and worried mother, who will bring him to be tested on monday. too bad noah can't read this. if this kid does in fact have asperger's, and i hadn't been friends with noah, he'd remain without knowledge of the inner-"demons" that plague him. le sigh. thanks noah wherever you are.