One Hundred Words A Day
Thursday, April 26, 2012
The backyard Bully
¶ 1:41 PM 0 Comments
He looks at me with lizard's eyes
with raised torso on serpentine shape
he chases his mate up and down my yard
my path he blocks...yet I escape.
Friday, April 6, 2012
Because I Write
Yesterday I felt like crap
Like Sylvia Plath's head in the oven.
Today I'm all sun
I'm Emily Dickinson
because I write.
Yesterday I was a worthless bag
bones about to crumble
Today I'm all spirit
moving through air.
Yesterday I was all madness
Plato spoke to me:
"You are inspired, daughter,
Garner your Muse's divinity and embrace Eros."
I've lost it and then regain
that essence of me
that contracts and expands
like the inhale exhale of sea.
when it's giddy and gay
I feel better
I can face anything
Sticks...stones? I am stronger.
¶ 7:02 AM 0 Comments
Yesterday I felt like crap
Like Sylvia Plath's head in the oven.
Today I'm all sun
I'm Emily Dickinson
because I write.
Yesterday I was a worthless bag
bones about to crumble
Today I'm all spirit
moving through air.
Yesterday I was all madness
Plato spoke to me:
"You are inspired, daughter,
Garner your Muse's divinity and embrace Eros."
I've lost it and then regain
that essence of me
that contracts and expands
like the inhale exhale of sea.
when it's giddy and gay
I feel better
I can face anything
Sticks...stones? I am stronger.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Anybody Wounded?
Kill the classroom budget
Kill the student's dreams
Kill the students
Killing: our nation's theme.
He walks home from Grandma's
with graduation in mind
Pow, pow! Now he's dead
A black downed by a brown.
Now in Bizarro's comics
two teams face one another
the bros against the homies
Ball aimed at basket, bullets on all others.
He comes from Korea
His gun bought in America
He's mad at his old Ma
for wanting a doctor-son, so "voila!"
Seven dead, three wounded
Swat teams swoop down,
guns drawn, "Anybody else wounded?"
"I!" My spirit bled, shot, shocked, more than wounded. ¶ 8:38 AM 0 Comments
Kill the classroom budget
Kill the student's dreams
Kill the students
Killing: our nation's theme.
He walks home from Grandma's
with graduation in mind
Pow, pow! Now he's dead
A black downed by a brown.
Now in Bizarro's comics
two teams face one another
the bros against the homies
Ball aimed at basket, bullets on all others.
He comes from Korea
His gun bought in America
He's mad at his old Ma
for wanting a doctor-son, so "voila!"
Seven dead, three wounded
Swat teams swoop down,
guns drawn, "Anybody else wounded?"
"I!" My spirit bled, shot, shocked, more than wounded. ¶ 8:38 AM 0 Comments
