Saturday, December 28, 2013

Tuesday, December 24, 2013

Stripped Away

I'm not a sentimental person
by nature. I've never
cried over a Kodak
commercial. I've never
watched an entire
Hallmark film. I rooted
for the boat when I saw
Titanic. Nothing means

Anything. Except for
the meaning we give it;
entropy pushes the universe
toward chaos.We believe
meaning gives order.
We're hideously, horribly

Wrong. I lack those
verklempt stirrings
in the chest and womb
every time I hold
a child. I am more likely
to romanticize dog ownership
than child-rearing. Or actual

Romance. It is what it
is. That is what I always say.
The thing is the thing; no
more, no less. No artificial
sweeteners, no preservatives.
No shelf-life extenders, no
red dye number five. Or

Eleven. The not-poisonous
one. Even if, when you are not
looking, life becomes
a cake from a box. A half-made
deal. There's no crime in
cheating. Making cake from scratch
is a time-sucker. Leaching
the moments in boring necessities.
Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Breakfast.
Something else, unremembered.
Unmemorable. And a half-made

Cake. I cheat at cake. I harbor
pastries, resentments and
time. I hold them in a secret
room; a vault in my head
full of nice things and bad.
The taste of fresh mint. The scraping
of a knee. Yellow boxed
cake with chocolate ice cream
over-beaten by ten year olds. I'm

Not impressed when children
help cook. It's a teaching
moment. A life skill. Not
a perfect Kodak moment.  But still...
I will take pictures. Of every
imperfect cake. Every childish and
professionally arranged delivery
of flowers. Something to hold onto
forever. Tangible proof that
someone once liked me. Tangible proof
that I exist, even when
I have trouble believing it myself.

Tangible proof of whatever you like.
But moistly, a list of all the those times
when I interacted with the Real World.
For when I inevitably forget.

Sunday, December 15, 2013

Friday, December 13, 2013

Wednesday, December 11, 2013

Monday, December 9, 2013

Saturday, December 7, 2013

Ten word story

A shattered stone mossy bridge
crossing over a dried riverbed. 

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

10 Word Story

The dragons returned. Low misty clouds lit brighter than day.

Tuesday, September 17, 2013

Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Monday, August 12, 2013

Friday, August 9, 2013

Tuesday, August 6, 2013

In Which I Wax Poetic About Lost and Found

Ok. So I have this fascination with the Lost and Found box. Every place I have ever worked, I have been fascinated with it. Sometimes, I will go through it for entertainment. I am amazed by what people leave behind. A million pairs of sunglasses, CDs, flash drives, car keys. 
The car keys thing always gets me. I have never worked in a place where there wasn’t at least one set of car keys in the lost and found. HOW DID YOU GET HOME!?? I have the same bewildered amusement toward things left in the scanner—birth certificates, military orders, hundred-year-old family photos. You name it, it’s probably been left at a library at some point. 
I also have a fondness for the winter coats that get left behind. Ok, maybe it was warmer when you left than when you started out. But at some point along the way didn’t you wonder… hey. When’s the last time I had my $200 Steelers Starter jacket? 
Sometimes there are greeting cards. One was a Transformers card with Optimus Prime on the cover with a lovely “missing you" note on the inside to a service member spouse. Or children’s toys. I get a little sad for the child who has lost their favorite stuffy. But I am really sad when a parent comes in and asks if we have a stuffed animal, and it isn’t in lost and found. You know there’s a child who will shortly be inconsolable with grief for a lost friend. 
Then there are the bits and bobs. Pens that end up getting recycled. Barrettes and hair clips that never leave the bottom of the box. Weird connectors for devices you have never seen. And a pocket U.S. Constitution. There always seems to be one of those. 
And the thing about those sunglasses and car keys and even coffee mugs and water bottles filled with liquid is that they always seem to stay there. They never go away. They accumulate. They eventually get tossed after six months or a year. Some end up at Goodwill. But no one comes back for them. They’re forgotten. They’re lost, we find them, but they’re never claimed. They never get to go home. Well, some find new homes. Any USB stick over 8 gig is fair game after a whole year of being in the Drawer of Flash Drives That Time Forgot. I once got a really cool pen that way. But… most items left at the library never go home. 
Maybe I search through the Lost and Found not so much out of curiosity (though there is still that), but to visit the items relegated to that Island of Misfit Toys. To spread a little bit of attention onto those once beloved things that are now lost and forgotten. Or worse: lost and replaced. 
I may be anthropomorphising. No, I know I am. But how depressing must it be, to be those car keys? You were once shiny and new. Someone never left the house without you. They showed off your automatic starter button with prideful glee. And then they left you at a public computer. And after two days of searching for you in the bottom of a bag, they spent $200 to have a new key and dongle made, and then they went on with their lives, no longer mindful of where you ended up. 
Some people cared too little for the things that ended up in Lost and Found. I seem to care too much. 

Thursday, July 18, 2013

A list.

1. I look at a lot of crime scene and autopsy photos.

2. It started with an old job. We had go through a box of them.

3. I don't know why I look at them now. They are not upsetting.

4. We are but meat suits. Walking, thinking meat suits. Emphasis on meat.

5. The pictures don't bother me. Even the ones of children.

6. I gave myself a panic attack and swerved into oncoming traffic to avoid hitting a turtle.

7. I don't deal well with the fake deaths of fake animals in films.

8. Where do we go when we vacate our meat suits?

9. I would like to haunt an amusement park. If we have choices.

10. I miss my nana.

Tuesday, July 16, 2013

Things I Learned Today

1. Smiling makes you happier. Unless smiling sans reason makes you unhappier.

2. Standing with your hands on your hips in a strong heroic pose makes you more confident. Wonder Woman wears tiny clothes.

3. Memorization can be improved by filing facts within your house absurdly. This includes Britney Spears.

4. Printing errors can perforate pages but not completely shear them. My book looks like a coupon.

5. No matter how big or small the cat, they all seek to capture their own tail. It is an illusive stranger, stalking them all of their lives.

6. Happiness precedes success. Apparently we were lied to when we were told success would bring happiness. Mostly it has only brought student loan debt.

7. Life is a game. Gameplay adds minutes to life. Live forever. Make everything a game.

8. Everything I have ever known about tying shoelaces is wrong. I shall endeavor to correct this immediately. Just as soon as flip-flop season is over.

9. Who's more crazy? The fool, or the fool who follows him? Apparently the second man in is the trend-setter. Or the one most likely to be thrown in the penalty box.

10. Life may or may not be judged in actual experience points. It depends on who you assume is keeping track.

Monday, July 15, 2013

I really do mean to use this more. Truly.

I got to the end (or as much as I could humanly tolerate, given my mental state at the time) of my 100 word project. And while it was a little more disjointed toward the end than I was intending, I still produced quite a lot of work. I visited a lot of worlds in the course of one year. One tiny scrap of paper at a time.

Yes, I did actually write them every day, on quarter-page scraps of already-used eight and a half by eleven for the sake of recycling. I didn't always get them typed up on time. But it was what it was, I suppose.

I'm not sure what other projects I will cook up here. Maybe a little more free-flow, maybe some variety. For the handful of you still tuned into this station :) Um... thanks for sticking around and such.

If you're still out there, give a wave :)

Saturday, March 23, 2013

They even have a golf course


They iive in a dome, 
you know. 

Those people. 
The ones that live in the dome. 

The weather is always pleasant. Entirely
climate controlled. The grass is always green
The lake stocked with fish. 
There is a turtle who suns himself on a rock on the shore
year round. 
The people in the dome
don't have freeze-thaw cycles. 
Potholes are extremely rare. 

No one waters their plants
in the dome. 
It rains on scheduled days, always at the same time. 
Regularity is the hallmark of the dome. 

School starts September 6th. 
Christmas always falls on a Wednesday
no one remembers a not-white Christmas.
Except for the one year, 
when the snow generator was on the fritz
but they made due with popcicles 
and iced candy canes.

It's always DST. GMT -6. 
Days are long, nights are short. Roosters
only crow on schedule
And cats never wake anyone up early
for a meal that isn't due till dawn.

There are no alarm clocks in the dome. 
People are happier that way. 
Work with the sun, sleep with the dark. 
listen to someone play piano in the moon light
and if they're lucky, the Vanderhorn boy's voice
has not yet changed. He's always had
such a lovely soprano. 

Things do not change in the dome
they are not meant to.
They are as they've always been. 
Green glass, gloss and glamour. 
And you are most certainly not invited. 

Friday, March 22, 2013

Shitty poems for fun but never profit.


I am a ram. 
A biblical ram
One they build altars for
on Saturday morning television
reruns. The altars are made
from smooth round stone
without an ocean in sight
in the desert
among the sharp rocks
and burning bushes


The ram is sacrificed
that is what needs to be done
to maintain order in the world

Sacrifice me
maintain order
make it right
shelved by Dewey number
the only thing
that makes the world clean
a number 
on a label 
on a shelf
set on fire
as the ram screams
I scream
I scream to make the collections
make sense
with file and order
but it's not a shelf
it is the universe
 I am a ram
sacrificed 
to keep the universe
expanding
as it ought
on schedule
so they say
when they talk 
of such things
fire and stones and television
pillars
and no angels
stopping the hand of the faithful
at that last moment
the ram is necessary. 
Because of the ram the world turns. 
Sacrifice me so it may go on. 

Confession time:

I am rubbish at poetry. I have been trying to do it more and more.

I think very literally.

But perhaps I will give it a try, and post it on this blog.

I will call it, perhaps, "Poetry for Literalists and People Who Do Not Understand Poetry" by Someone Who Does Not Understand Poetry.

Y/Y?

The tiny gods of ennui

Sisyphus drives a mid-range car
and lives in a flatshare 
with two other roommates. 

There's always the flatmate 
whose parents have spoiled him. 
Prometheus drives a Mini Cooper
The only thing more douchy
would be a white Smart Car 

Which Persephone got 
from Hades
for their fourth anniversary. 
Which he gave in place
of the traditional fruits and flowers
for the obvious reasons. 

They all had nice lives, his flatmates
or at least Sisyphus had no complaints. 
Persephone was around half year. 
Prometheus had daddy issue. 
But at the end of the day, didn't they all? 

The dishes were done regularly. The fridge
was always stocked. Their Siamese 
house cat Buttons seems content enough. 

Hell, they even had five hundred television channels
with the pornography unlocked
(Dyonisis visited once,
and he knew how to do those sorts of things)

They had dinner parties once a month 
and did those normal people things
Jobs and book clubs (the job for Sysiphus,
the book club for Prometheus), 

For Christmas they'd even subscribed
to the Cheeese of the Month Club. 

And someone else maintained their lawn. 

It was... to all degrees and purposes... 
perfect. 

And horrible. 

Pushing a boulder up a hill time 
and again was less glamorous 
than one might think. 

Nor did Sysiphis understand
why a man who spent his days
as a loan officer
and night having his eyes torn from 
their flesh 
needed a hatchback douche-mobile
version of a fine European car. 

At least Persephone had the decency 
to pay her rent in advance,. 

Thursday, March 21, 2013

We call this Tuesday.

Cats crept in the night. Then pounced, crashed and destroyed.

The Secrets of the Day

It's a never-ending gravel road, life.
Well, it ends. In an overturned field, 
made impassable by frozen mud
in the dead of winter. Hidden
somewhere up ahead. Some unknown 
distance. It will end sudden and dirty
crackling straw beneath car wheels
Breaking things already 
on the verge of being broken. 

And that's it; life is over. 
Gone. 
All roads end. 
Somewhere. 
Over the next rise, 
or a thousand miles away. 

And you're tired. And you're cold. 
And you shut off the engine
in the dark. Tilt the car seat back
And Die. 

Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Tuesday, February 12, 2013

Monday, February 11, 2013

Plot Twist

The giants and the little people are actually great friends.

Saturday, February 9, 2013

Friday, February 8, 2013

Thursday, February 7, 2013

Wednesday, February 6, 2013