Soles - Hello Poetry

I threw away the defrosted chicken, and the nail clippings, skin onions, what I once thought was my favorite shirt, stretched out underwear, the half of a pair of gold earrings, a crumpled ball of my hair. Threw my feelings, personality, nonsense conversations. Have I ever told you it scares me to death to be like them? I am encapsulated, living thing, matryoshka doll. This city fits me like an oversized wedding ring. And the town wives want to compete, Floorboards and glasses of white wine, Mumble and half smile my way out of this.

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Jul 8, 2019

Jul 8, 2019 at 6:26 PM UTC

2451 Harbor Island Drive

I threw away the defrosted chicken, and the nail clippings, skin onions, what I once thought was my favorite shirt, stretched out underwear, the half of a pair of gold earrings, a crumpled ball of my hair. Threw my feelings, personality, nonsense conversations. Have I ever told you it scares me to death to be like them? I am encapsulated, living thing, matryoshka doll. This city fits me like an oversized wedding ring. And the town wives want to compete, Floorboards and glasses of white wine, Mumble and half smile my way out of this.

13

I am a walking target, bull's-eye, Easy prey of this millennium. I am a number, you want my money, I want the attention. Spew your crap at me, make me beautiful, clean, worthy. Desperate I'll relinquish all I have, my multiple identities, my sanity. Only 9.99 a month, click here! Which one will I be today? Please upload them in the cloud, algorithm me for later, sell me on the bitcoin market. I am a good, a gain, capitalist surplus. For I can freely pick and choose in this techno democracy, Silicon Valley guinea pig. This poem will continue after the ad... And I'll expose myself for this audience, my wants and desires, the coffee I drink, the pills I take, my children and the children of my children. They'll drink sewage water, bathe in acid rain. And I'll build arguments on why I bore them to this Earth, tell them stories of better days.

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Oct 14, 2018

Oct 14, 2018 at 3:16 PM UTC

Data Breach

I am a walking target, bull's-eye, Easy prey of this millennium. I am a number, you want my money, I want the attention. Spew your crap at me, make me beautiful, clean, worthy. Desperate I'll relinquish all I have, my multiple identities, my sanity. Only 9.99 a month, click here! Which one will I be today? Please upload them in the cloud, algorithm me for later, sell me on the bitcoin market. I am a good, a gain, capitalist surplus. For I can freely pick and choose in this techno democracy, Silicon Valley guinea pig. This poem will continue after the ad... And I'll expose myself for this audience, my wants and desires, the coffee I drink, the pills I take, my children and the children of my children. They'll drink sewage water, bathe in acid rain. And I'll build arguments on why I bore them to this Earth, tell them stories of better days.

13

This morning I flew away from my body. On the phone I told my mother I wish I was a bird, silly girl, she said. Remember my visions, apparitions, my baby ****** Mary. But I fold the laundry and I brush my teeth, I am not a bird. My lovers they don't know, understand, that I am a bird. That this afternoon I flew away from my body, the T.V. still on, over the tree tops, the skyscrapers, my wing span long and beautiful. But I must do the dishes, set the alarm, nine to five, I cannot be a bird. You don't know, at night, I fly, out the window I go, the wind caressing my face. I should leave pebbles, find my way home.

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Jun 26, 2018

Jun 26, 2018 at 3:11 PM UTC

Why I Am Not a Bird

This morning I flew away from my body. On the phone I told my mother I wish I was a bird, silly girl, she said. Remember my visions, apparitions, my baby ****** Mary. But I fold the laundry and I brush my teeth, I am not a bird. My lovers they don't know, understand, that I am a bird. That this afternoon I flew away from my body, the T.V. still on, over the tree tops, the skyscrapers, my wing span long and beautiful. But I must do the dishes, set the alarm, nine to five, I cannot be a bird. You don't know, at night, I fly, out the window I go, the wind caressing my face. I should leave pebbles, find my way home.

10

I look through the glass panel While you swing yourself on the balcony I can tell you’ve been crying Coffee for solace, life escaping you in every exhale This daughter is a mess, a heart of gold numb by memories Just let him be, let him swing and feed the cat, let him cry, and curse God. Love left this house long ago, that heart, solid rock. The sisters comfort you, but they don’t know, what you’re thinking, feeling, that the heart is stone, they don’t know what I know, that you hate us, love left long ago. I pray for you, while they drug you, the words unintelligible and full of anger. You used to dry my wet hair, daddy, the fondest memory I have of you. But now you’re bitter and you won’t look me in the eye. And I’m sorry I am giving up, happy father’s day, I am through.

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Jun 16, 2018

Jun 16, 2018 at 12:01 AM UTC

On the eve of father's day

I look through the glass panel While you swing yourself on the balcony I can tell you’ve been crying Coffee for solace, life escaping you in every exhale This daughter is a mess, a heart of gold numb by memories Just let him be, let him swing and feed the cat, let him cry, and curse God. Love left this house long ago, that heart, solid rock. The sisters comfort you, but they don’t know, what you’re thinking, feeling, that the heart is stone, they don’t know what I know, that you hate us, love left long ago. I pray for you, while they drug you, the words unintelligible and full of anger. You used to dry my wet hair, daddy, the fondest memory I have of you. But now you’re bitter and you won’t look me in the eye. And I’m sorry I am giving up, happy father’s day, I am through.

14

This womb is desert bare. I stand between ancient beliefs and modernity My femininity eludes me Thoughts of completeness ricochet the brain, Thoughts of having to choose. Once again in history one of our kind has to choose. The other kind did not. My predecessors told me so, in fiction, in nonfiction. I felt no empathy; their kind was not my kind. Their femininity eluded them, they too chose. Our kind loathes you, the all-encompassing supreme. We meet you half-way; you deny our wild instincts.

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May 13, 2018

May 13, 2018 at 5:09 PM UTC

Choices

This womb is desert bare. I stand between ancient beliefs and modernity My femininity eludes me Thoughts of completeness ricochet the brain, Thoughts of having to choose. Once again in history one of our kind has to choose. The other kind did not. My predecessors told me so, in fiction, in nonfiction. I felt no empathy; their kind was not my kind. Their femininity eluded them, they too chose. Our kind loathes you, the all-encompassing supreme. We meet you half-way; you deny our wild instincts.

12

There was a pond behind the cottage The water murky and mysterious. It was shallow and sunny when we got There, we looked for fish through a mesh, Spectators, bystanders in a trance. I sat on the red pier, dangling legs, While the ***** dug tiny tunnels. The sun warming my eyelids, blinded, We never saw the fish, but saw the fishing Poles, saw the boats. It was Sunday when we left, the mesh Dewy with moist, the water level rising. I never saw the fish, but I heard them.

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May 13, 2018

May 13, 2018 at 2:33 PM UTC

There Was A Pond Behind the Cottage

There was a pond behind the cottage The water murky and mysterious. It was shallow and sunny when we got There, we looked for fish through a mesh, Spectators, bystanders in a trance. I sat on the red pier, dangling legs, While the ***** dug tiny tunnels. The sun warming my eyelids, blinded, We never saw the fish, but saw the fishing Poles, saw the boats. It was Sunday when we left, the mesh Dewy with moist, the water level rising. I never saw the fish, but I heard them.

13

Peel me off like an onion, for I am made of layers. But instead, it is my tears that drown the living room. Your smell sweet, mine acetone. This drained vase was once overflowing They said your words could cure, I followed feverish. Place your hand on my head and demand I rise, For days like this the light hurts my squinting eyes. Blindfolded, spun around, sown in half, Is this the big reveal, oh magician? Your Pollyanna, rosy- cheeked darling has come undone.

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Apr 4, 2018

Apr 4, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC

lovesick

Peel me off like an onion, for I am made of layers. But instead, it is my tears that drown the living room. Your smell sweet, mine acetone. This drained vase was once overflowing They said your words could cure, I followed feverish. Place your hand on my head and demand I rise, For days like this the light hurts my squinting eyes. Blindfolded, spun around, sown in half, Is this the big reveal, oh magician? Your Pollyanna, rosy- cheeked darling has come undone.

10

Open your mouth The tongue rolls out like an old arab carpet Spitting venom like raindrops I bathe in the sweat of your brow Howling like a helpless animal, I turn my back The warm breath filling up the air You say I should hum a tune or two You say I should have an affair You say I should cut my hair I name our unborn children Mary Elizabeth, and Lily, and Jacob And count sheep in our dreams While the overboiled milk spills.

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Apr 4, 2018

Apr 4, 2018 at 8:12 PM UTC

Untitled

Open your mouth The tongue rolls out like an old arab carpet Spitting venom like raindrops I bathe in the sweat of your brow Howling like a helpless animal, I turn my back The warm breath filling up the air You say I should hum a tune or two You say I should have an affair You say I should cut my hair I name our unborn children Mary Elizabeth, and Lily, and Jacob And count sheep in our dreams While the overboiled milk spills.

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I am the almost Tucked away opaque china Once I was a chandelier My chiseled features gold Packed in tissue pristine and precious Hung up and valuable Muse to all, talked over They still stare, but my colors have bled I cause no wonder, stir no emotion No longer do they congregate in awe Brushed off, eyes turned blind Solitary and silent I wait.

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Mar 13, 2018

Mar 13, 2018 at 7:03 PM UTC

Untitled

I am the almost Tucked away opaque china Once I was a chandelier My chiseled features gold Packed in tissue pristine and precious Hung up and valuable Muse to all, talked over They still stare, but my colors have bled I cause no wonder, stir no emotion No longer do they congregate in awe Brushed off, eyes turned blind Solitary and silent I wait.

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