labyrinth (365 pieces – january 4th)

I will pick my path around pilesbuilt tall from trees once tallerbut still tall enoughan end never in sightwords covering every surfacenone could comprehend them allthis number recurringnine seveneightnine seven eight in starlit bookish nichesinching scavengers bending nightinto several broken nocturnesinside, such blissful nonsense. nine seven eight / you’ll never be lateyour friends in the pages will wait and wait and wait. Continue reading labyrinth (365 pieces – january 4th)

hospital haiku (365 pieces – january 3rd)

on ward thirty two needle in my savaged arm watch a bruise blossom how the rain falls now poems for the soul that cries every waking hour this is infusion my arm is a-lure-ing and meds put me to sleep taste the bitter pill feel the clammy summer air give up / write haiku air like coffee grounds a mind full of similes and disinfectant Continue reading hospital haiku (365 pieces – january 3rd)

january 2 (365 pieces)

january 2 she likes to think she’s representing the every-woman the one hollywood had her believe in who wept into tubs of ice cream and didn’t know what to believe in it’s sorbet, because here too she’s part of the disaffected lactose-free city slicker generation but she digs in the spoon anyway, cold lemon kisses looking at the opened bottle of champagne one glassful gone, the rest remaining, fizzling out between the well-intentioned exercise dvds the giant christmas-gift chocolate bar the pine needles on the floor she doesn’t know / she isn’t sure what she’s supposed to be celebrating for Continue reading january 2 (365 pieces)

a fashionably late resolution; a new project

Well, I’m biting the bullet – I’m going to do it, and if I’m typing it up in a public blog entry, then it must be true. I am going to write a poem or small prose piece/excerpt every day. I swear it. It’s probably going to be impossible, and yet, here I am, saying it. A few years ago, I would have said that it was impossible that I’d have a chronic disease, impossible that I’d be in a long-term relationship with a guy, impossible that I’m  still deciding whether or not to go to the Amanda Palmer show … Continue reading a fashionably late resolution; a new project

‘vampire weekend are full of it.’ or ‘a tale of oxford commas!’

Warning – the entry uses the word ‘fuck’ a lot. Primarily because Vampire Weekend use it in their song Oxford Comma. Who gives a fuck about an Oxford comma? I’ve seen those English dramas too They’re cruel. Dear Vampire Weekend, I give a fuck about an Oxford comma. Or the fucking around of an Oxford comma, at least. No love*, Briar. *Not to mention that with their accents they sound like they’re saying karma. At least, they sound like a citizen of various Commonwealth locales saying karma. And saying ‘fuck you’ to karma is a Bad Plan, I’m pretty sure. … Continue reading ‘vampire weekend are full of it.’ or ‘a tale of oxford commas!’

the graveyard mission

I’m calling myself queen of the double-entendre for this moment, even though the secondary element of this was only an afterthought once I’d typed ‘the graveyard mission’ as my title. The first plan was to write something moderately interesting (theoretically) about my finally having finished reading The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman – and the protracted period of time it took for me to do so. Hence ‘mission’. But then my mind started a-workin’, as it does every so often, and I recalled my own graveyard mission of yesteryear, or more of an adventure, I suppose, and decided that its tale … Continue reading the graveyard mission