RIP MAMA
August 29, 2013, 3:36 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , ,

my mom died one year ago today. these stanzas save me every time:

If you are lucky in this life,
you will get to raise the spoon
of pristine, frosty ice cream
to the trusting creature mouth of your old enemy

because the tastebuds at least are not broken
because there is a bond between you
and sweet is sweet in any language.

– From “Lucky” by Tony Hoagland



EVERYONE LIKE HER -Leopoldine Core
August 27, 2013, 10:06 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

I just had a little of your chocolate
and now I’m wild with desire
for more chocolate
it goes right to the discomfort
sweetens it I think.

The moon’s on
a short white leash
and what happens
to everyone
happens to you.

You’re gonna die too.

I’ll make you a tape
to play
when you say my name
slowly
like I’m stupid
like dogs are stupid
like the homeless are stupid
you’re always calling
everyone stupid.
And you are kind of
a lunk
big medium
mind.
I’ve been tuning you out
since I was a sperm
That’s why I can’t listen well
all your talk
you made it vulgar
to speak
talking in your sleep
when the fear cartoons play
talk when you wake up
talk
talk
hate is real
it’s an actual thing
and I really do
I hate you.



August 24, 2013, 9:55 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized

tumblr_mrryet3SwB1qa4iv8o3_1280



F. Scott Fitzgerald
August 23, 2013, 7:50 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags:

“Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry, I turned away.”

 

“Things are sweeter when they’re lost. I know–because once I wanted something and got it. It was the only thing I ever wanted badly, Dot, and when I got it it turned to dust in my hand.”



ARE ALL THE BREAK-UPS IN YOUR POEMS REAL? – Amy Nezhukumatathil

(and another)

If by real you mean as real as a shark tooth stuck
in your heel, the wetness of a finished lollipop stick,
the surprise of a thumbtack in your purse—
then Yes, every last page is true, every nuance,
bit, and bite. Wait. I have made them up—all of them—
and when I say I am married, it means I married
all of them, a whole neighborhood of past loves.
Can you imagine the number of bouquets, how many
slices of cake? Even now, my husbands plan a great meal
for us—one chops up some parsley, one stirs a bubbling pot
on the stove. One changes the baby, and one sleeps
in a fat chair. One flips through the newspaper, another
whistles while he shaves in the shower, and every single
one of them wonders what time I am coming home.



After the Auction, I Bid You Good-Bye -AIMEE NEZHUKUMATATHIL
August 22, 2013, 6:49 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,

You elbow me with your corduroy jacket
when a box chock-full of antique marbles comes up.
I can’t hear your whispers above the auctioneer’s racket.

The clipped speech of the auctioneer cracked
me up when you impersonated him in bed. Like a wild, thick mop
I soak up every copper smell from your corduroy jacket.

In two days, I will drive you to the airport, packed
with other couples pressed tightly at the top
of the escalator. Lines sear my cheek from your corduroy jacket

when we hug—then a quick kiss good-bye tacked
on at the end. I’ll finger the rim on the paper coffee cup
you leave in my car. When I hear your name I can’t forget

how your long torso pressed against my bare back,
bluish in this early light. Your fingers shot into me, popped
my spine into a wicked arch. There is no lack

of how it haunts me still—what I bid—lost, sacked
and wrapped for other girls. I should have looked up
to see who else was bidding, but I studied the folds in your jacket.
My limit is spent, loud and certain as the auctioneer’s racket.


The Good Life -TRACY K. SMITH
August 21, 2013, 5:29 pm
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , ,
When some people talk about money
They speak as if it were a mysterious lover
Who went out to buy milk and never
Came back, and it makes me nostalgic
For the years I lived on coffee and bread,
Hungry all the time, walking to work on payday
Like a woman journeying for water
From a village without a well, then living
One or two nights like everyone else
On roast chicken and red wine.