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Oct. 7th, 2010


entry 239

When my grandmother
came to this country
(this country, yours and
she didn’t know how to read
or speak it.
She learned from television and magazines.
Having daughters helps.
One to buy the magazines,
One to point out the movie starts
on the television,
One to chatter on in English
about her classes
while she makes herself a
peanutbutterjelly sandwich,
and cleans up after herself
with a Scotttowel.
But in the end, it’s no use.
Your cousin through marriage,
the only other woman you know
in this country,
sways like an old woman
with a bad hip.
Your carpet gathers more dirt
each year.
Your mother completely loses it
and takes to calling the nurses
“koukla-mou”, my sweetie.
You can never visit.
Having daughters is always
a great help.

Oct. 6th, 2010


entry 238

You need to
give yourself
time to digest.
Locked inside your head,
unable to look past
its green-bottle glass,
every shake,
every rattle
causes a slurry of
your thoughts and sights,
experiences, memories,
Did you think
you could consume forever?
No matter how much
you love,
you forget your own ability
to produce
a thought of worth.

you are not your parents' child
you are. you came to me
unharmed, seemingly whole.
seemingly, seem seem, seaming see
seem seen seaming ly lee
Lord save me. Toads keep me.
I cannot get through
this marsh grass, armadillo's
lair, cricket leaves leaning down to make
the motion of tucking my hair
behind my ear for me,
stopping because we're
strangers. I shave me head
just in case. A pattern is unseen
(and again I sleep).
A year no one sane will talk
of. They say it was a marvelous
time, those who talk of it.

She is stern
because she is Queen.
And the sun
keeps challenging her;
it points to the umbrella
that she uses as a cane.
Must she explain
that an umbrella has many uses?
For example,
as a cane?

Oct. 4th, 2010


post 237

Every people have their horrors. Though they happen to individuals. They took everything that wasn’t nailed down. Like my bangin hot bootay. Now no one knows I’m ethnic. I tried faking an accent, but I can’t keep it nailed down, so when they came back they took that too.

Sep. 12th, 2010


Entry 236

The President
of the United
States of America is
a very important person, no,
a very important man,
not person, that’s right.
And I think he would resent
being represented
by so many actors
pretending to be average no-faced Joes.
Maybe they want to wake up one day
not armored in a suit,
sealed off from neck to wrist to
shiny, black shoe
with almost undeterminable leather embellishment.
Maybe these Joes want to be caught
looking cross-eyed, trying to see their own noses.
You never know
what they are trying to do.
When these Joes playing the President
try to let their skin hang loose,
when they try to let us see
they aren’t the hero at the end of the day,
not at the end, not this day,
they walk into their bedrooms
and strip to trousers and suspenders,
and rub their wrinkled foreheads with a hand
and look off to the far right of the camera
and say that there once was
a poor boy in the city who sat on the concrete steps
of his city
in his trousers and suspenders
with his wrinkled forehead in his hand
and only wanted to make a difference.
But no one would vote for him
and no one would fund his campaign
and no one would friend him on Facebook.
And what do you think happened to that young boy today?

Sep. 10th, 2010


entry 235

It's one thing to ignore me
while holding my hand
(social obligation).
It's another thing
to treat me like the pariah
I am.

Sep. 4th, 2010


entry 234

What’s there to eat?

I’m so mad I could cry.
I stand with my arms crossed
in my 4 by 12 kitchen
and stare at the vodka bottle.
The stove says it’s one pm.
I swing an arm out and open the fridge
and stare at the spinach leaves.
How long will they last?
I’m so mad I could spit.
Is it worth it?
Even if I turned everything off
there would still be the buzz
of silence.
When I pass a mirror I see it,
my dark, wet hair falling
in Snow White curls.
That’s what you’ve been waiting for.
I’m so mad
I could pick up my arms
and throw them away.

Aug. 31st, 2010


entry 233

My tongue is a saboteur;
it arches in its channel
and underminds its own
When it calls otu
in a high "E"
it slips,
and plays
the hero.

Such a fleshy thing
It betrays me feeling
that we're
Even steven.

Now I must be s spy.
Now I must be
Demoted to my
supporter's positions.
Acting like the
number one fan.

My tongue is a loyal
bag of flesh.
But I think it
wants to be cut out.
Wants to be cut out
guilt it, but betray it.

It's all so nice.

I remember the slope
of the false granite
before I reached door
of the room I sat in
Ignoring what was
going on.

Ignoring that there was
even a problem.
I saw squiggly eyes,
craft toy,
and puzzles to be solved.
I never knew

I was combating
something never to be solved.
Something never to be overcome
walked along with me.
The only thing with me
was this child's speech,
child's communication.
Communicating that I would alway be
a child.

A child's tears
took the seat next to me
on the bus
and was so kind to speak
and say
what nice weather
we are having.
Things are going oh so
but we can keep up,
we can keep up,
one of these days.
If we remain
we will be
of the best.
I roll around
on the floor of the bus.
Never knowing
which is best.

Aug. 23rd, 2010


entry 232

I am not depressed.
I will not have
scandalous love affairs.
It's not allowed, and I'm
okay with that.
I will not jump from the windows
not even trees.
I will climb up trees,
and look down,
my hand hooked around
edging around
the bark,
and I will lean out
and swing back,
always secure.
When I am depressed
I will lie on a bench
and look at the sky,
and say
there is no where I need to be
for a whole fifty minutes.

I could not have
a scandalous love affair.
I could sooner tell
a person my secrets.

Aug. 19th, 2010


entry 231

I don't know what
I'm jealous of,
having any longing.
Butting heads,
I never did.
I never will.
You stand just far enough
There is no volume
to this,
there is no this.
Am I a stain
on your wall?
Could I be?

Aug. 15th, 2010

weird girl in back

entry 230

I lost my sheep in the rain,
not real rain
but the kind that is just around
to let you know it's there,
and you can just leave the umbrella
in the car. It's okay
to forget.
Sheep made no sound.
We forgot to look at each other,
forgot to get each other's cell number,
don't even know
what type of coffee he drinks.
Or what if he doesn't drink coffee?
What then?

I looked through old thank you notes,
trying to find clues.
Thank you for your support and appreciation.
I really appreciate your concern.
It was very kind of you
to remember me.
I find the address
to my old shepherd
to beg of him
years of knowledge
and sheep catnip.
If there is such a thing,
he'll have it.
The rain walks me to his apartment
and stands outside when I'm buzzed in.
There is a sign that says, "No Pets.
Not even snails.
Not even folding ladders
Not even trench coats."
I can't find the stairs
and the elevator is so

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