just in time for me to ditch this blog again before I head off to my summer job!
but. no. this past year. awful.
I just needed to deal with it... and that meant putting a lot of writing on hold.
but here's a poem! it won me $350! :)
it's based off of the sound of the original German translation of Rilke's IV sonnet to Orpheus.
a fourth sonnet to the great god Pan
O, this is the deer man, that lovely goat
she didn’t know, and has yet to follow
his wandering white neck through the hollow
bliss in the still black light she has doted
upon. war is night. though, while she’s loved, there’s
that saintly whipping boy. see imminent
ends idling, ready and clear. ends austere
enough, and right. shrine of burning nape-bent
bones. she necked his mind kindly, those horns
were underneath the moonlight, the light sigh.
and she gave stark sounds to his bleating cries
danced out all the troubles, his spiny horns
drew crying from his white, lovely eyes.
stayed a silver-speckled memory inside.
enjoy. more to come.
-D-
Wednesday, May 30, 2012
Tuesday, November 29, 2011
Spellbinding
Currently Listening to: Please Call me, Baby - Tom Waits (Listen to it! Listen to it! such a good song!)
phew! over a month since my last post. things have been...busy, to say the least. looking into grad schools, applying for jobs, not to mention the hugemungous amount of homework that has been piling up (ew. German.)
but I haven't been so busy that I've stopped writing poetry. here's one:
Spellbinding
The attraction is in the limp wrist
the femininity crisp with voice
a gay poet came to Maine
and I gleaned the silver map
of glistening teeth between
pink lips.
Wanted to part them more with
a kiss
as he reminisced about
kinky transsexual prostitutes,
studded dildos, leather fetishes.
And I caught myself thinking
about Bowie all done up in
androgynous drag
my attraction to waving
blushed pink cheekbones
to shaking sequined square hips
and why it is I want to belong
with them.
As kids, fairies glowed
in jars at the way back of our ego.
and I remember with
brute force verbally assaulting
those someones who said
“that fag plays piano”
and his riot to my title
“That fat dyke”
as I cried in my cut-off shorts
and bright red tights.
looking back, it was less an attack on
us than it was on keeping quiet.
I’d like to say you were the only true
love I’ve had, but that’s only
half-truth, written down, gilded,
bound. It’s in the quibbles and
backward glances I can see origins to
our myth.
at any rate, everyone stops
believing in fairy tales.
I don’t blame yours for ending early.
I’ve curbed my glaring appetite
for flaming specimens of men
but I’ll suspend my diet
when the right one walks in
and he did
and reminded
with clean, cut nails and soft
touch of pages that boys do exist.
Sometimes, when I’m in a fight
or in the heat of the
night with my girl
I’ll remember you, prototype
with your hand on my cheek
your perfect Potter persona
spellbinding
making me ponder what
it is to forgive myself.
phew! over a month since my last post. things have been...busy, to say the least. looking into grad schools, applying for jobs, not to mention the hugemungous amount of homework that has been piling up (ew. German.)
but I haven't been so busy that I've stopped writing poetry. here's one:
Spellbinding
The attraction is in the limp wrist
the femininity crisp with voice
a gay poet came to Maine
and I gleaned the silver map
of glistening teeth between
pink lips.
Wanted to part them more with
a kiss
as he reminisced about
kinky transsexual prostitutes,
studded dildos, leather fetishes.
And I caught myself thinking
about Bowie all done up in
androgynous drag
my attraction to waving
blushed pink cheekbones
to shaking sequined square hips
and why it is I want to belong
with them.
As kids, fairies glowed
in jars at the way back of our ego.
and I remember with
brute force verbally assaulting
those someones who said
“that fag plays piano”
and his riot to my title
“That fat dyke”
as I cried in my cut-off shorts
and bright red tights.
looking back, it was less an attack on
us than it was on keeping quiet.
I’d like to say you were the only true
love I’ve had, but that’s only
half-truth, written down, gilded,
bound. It’s in the quibbles and
backward glances I can see origins to
our myth.
at any rate, everyone stops
believing in fairy tales.
I don’t blame yours for ending early.
I’ve curbed my glaring appetite
for flaming specimens of men
but I’ll suspend my diet
when the right one walks in
and he did
and reminded
with clean, cut nails and soft
touch of pages that boys do exist.
Sometimes, when I’m in a fight
or in the heat of the
night with my girl
I’ll remember you, prototype
with your hand on my cheek
your perfect Potter persona
spellbinding
making me ponder what
it is to forgive myself.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
Lady, I Urn
I was up until almost 4 this morning doing an archaeology paper. after working on it for nearly 10 hours straight.
I resigned myself to not going to German at 10am, in order to sleep.
What time does my body tell me it is time to wake up and not go back to sleep?
9:45.
my body is a douche.
at any rate, here's a poem I wrote yesterday, amid the archaeology stupidness.
The archaeologist said to the young Satyr
I dig you
in those bones
a feeling stratified
but not transposed in such deposition
So young satyr grew
from rustic remains
out of red ancients, Grecian cooking pots
became keratinous horn, woolen hair
and hot flesh
said Lady, I urn for you.
smelled deep through glued-up cracks
there was animal inside. and man. hungry
for recognition.
said satyr
I can only love dirt
as it lives beneath the knees
and draws blood like coins from banks
of clay, all tangy
and
contextually worthless.
said satyr
I can only love dirty magazines
as they live beneath
and draw heat from a bed
red and radiating
but there’s got to be a way
to turn on folklore
domesticated
back beaten
eyes searching, yearning her site
hurts worse than desecrating dirt
said satyr
I dig you
the archaeologist
of her psyche. breathless.
also, this:
Day 06 – Favorite made for TV movie
I love that movie series from the nineties with Sam Neill, Merlin. That's one of the only made-for-T.V.-movies that I really like.
I resigned myself to not going to German at 10am, in order to sleep.
What time does my body tell me it is time to wake up and not go back to sleep?
9:45.
my body is a douche.
at any rate, here's a poem I wrote yesterday, amid the archaeology stupidness.
The archaeologist said to the young Satyr
I dig you
in those bones
a feeling stratified
but not transposed in such deposition
So young satyr grew
from rustic remains
out of red ancients, Grecian cooking pots
became keratinous horn, woolen hair
and hot flesh
said Lady, I urn for you.
smelled deep through glued-up cracks
there was animal inside. and man. hungry
for recognition.
said satyr
I can only love dirt
as it lives beneath the knees
and draws blood like coins from banks
of clay, all tangy
and
contextually worthless.
said satyr
I can only love dirty magazines
as they live beneath
and draw heat from a bed
red and radiating
but there’s got to be a way
to turn on folklore
domesticated
back beaten
eyes searching, yearning her site
hurts worse than desecrating dirt
said satyr
I dig you
the archaeologist
of her psyche. breathless.
also, this:
Day 06 – Favorite made for TV movie
I love that movie series from the nineties with Sam Neill, Merlin. That's one of the only made-for-T.V.-movies that I really like.
Monday, October 24, 2011
From My Estuary
This is another poem I did for Moxley's class, a type of poem called a Bouts-Rime (I don't know all of that silly french accentry that accompanies it), in which she gave us a set of rhymes and we had to make a poem around them. This is mine, and I rather like it. I made it sound particularly unmetered. :) (for a rhyming poem)
from my estuary, your metronome
This stalking attraction seems so antique-
quiet walking, each step a bouncing thwak.
I smile at the trying, as oblique
as a circle. I’ve stared into your yak
eyes, brown and sad as November. Commend
me when I see inside you. No froufrou
from my estuary when I forfend
your hairy meaning. Not to misconstrue
such affection, but at our masquerades
I remained masked. It’s my two chromosomes
fighting for difference that built stockades,
not you, my pet, my breathing metronome.
also, continuing this:
Day 05 – Favorite love story in a movie
- I'll admit it. I love Ghost.
Day 06 – Favorite made for TV movie
Day 07 – The most surprising plot twist or ending
Day 08 – A movie that you’ve seen countless times
Day 09 – A movie with the best soundtrack
Day 10 – Favorite classic movie
Day 11 – A movie that changed your opinion about something
Day 12 – A movie that you hate
Day 13 – A movie that is a guilty pleasure
Day 14 – A movie that no one would expect you to love
Day 15 – A character who you can relate to the most
Day 16 – A movie that you used to love but now hate
Day 17 – A movie that disappointed you the most
Day 18 – A movie that you wish more people would’ve seen
Day 19 – Favorite movie based on a book/comic/etc.
Day 20 – Favorite movie from your favorite actor/actress
Day 21 – Favorite action movie
Day 22 – Favorite documentary
Day 23 – Favorite animation
Day 24 – That one awesome movie idea that still hasn’t been done yet
Day 25 – The most hilarious movie you’ve ever seen
Day 26 – A movie that you love but everyone else hates
Day 27 – A movie that you wish you had seen in theaters
Day 28 – Favorite movie from your favorite director
Day 29 – A movie from your childhood
Day 30 – Your favorite movie of all time
from my estuary, your metronome
This stalking attraction seems so antique-
quiet walking, each step a bouncing thwak.
I smile at the trying, as oblique
as a circle. I’ve stared into your yak
eyes, brown and sad as November. Commend
me when I see inside you. No froufrou
from my estuary when I forfend
your hairy meaning. Not to misconstrue
such affection, but at our masquerades
I remained masked. It’s my two chromosomes
fighting for difference that built stockades,
not you, my pet, my breathing metronome.
also, continuing this:
Day 05 – Favorite love story in a movie
- I'll admit it. I love Ghost.
Day 06 – Favorite made for TV movie
Day 07 – The most surprising plot twist or ending
Day 08 – A movie that you’ve seen countless times
Day 09 – A movie with the best soundtrack
Day 10 – Favorite classic movie
Day 11 – A movie that changed your opinion about something
Day 12 – A movie that you hate
Day 13 – A movie that is a guilty pleasure
Day 14 – A movie that no one would expect you to love
Day 15 – A character who you can relate to the most
Day 16 – A movie that you used to love but now hate
Day 17 – A movie that disappointed you the most
Day 18 – A movie that you wish more people would’ve seen
Day 19 – Favorite movie based on a book/comic/etc.
Day 20 – Favorite movie from your favorite actor/actress
Day 21 – Favorite action movie
Day 22 – Favorite documentary
Day 23 – Favorite animation
Day 24 – That one awesome movie idea that still hasn’t been done yet
Day 25 – The most hilarious movie you’ve ever seen
Day 26 – A movie that you love but everyone else hates
Day 27 – A movie that you wish you had seen in theaters
Day 28 – Favorite movie from your favorite director
Day 29 – A movie from your childhood
Day 30 – Your favorite movie of all time
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Ode to Pull-Out Couches
Ode to Pull-out couches
Sleep befits you like
chocolate milk and cigarettes
in a juvenile, indulgent sort of way
that doesn’t quite piece together. a portrait
of crumbs loose change fortunes from cookies debit card receipts
I’ve known chapters
in my histories
written on your overused sheets
buttons ready to press off, secret rips
like pathways to past mysteries
of summers awake beside
moonlight,
streetlight,
late-night walks
stuffing a secret-keeping substance
where hands have laid parallel
or beneath
on Pandora’s box-springed spine.
Wise servant,
I am your keeper’s guest.
I see you only as a book opened, folded truth
known only through consorted study.
written for moxley's class! yeah, it was an assignment, which is why it probably isn't as good as other poems.
also, to continue the movie thing...
Day 04 – A movie that makes you sad:
Milk, because Harvey Milk was an amazing human being and it makes me sad that bigotry against glbtq people existed to that extent (and that it still does!)
Sleep befits you like
chocolate milk and cigarettes
in a juvenile, indulgent sort of way
that doesn’t quite piece together. a portrait
of crumbs loose change fortunes from cookies debit card receipts
I’ve known chapters
in my histories
written on your overused sheets
buttons ready to press off, secret rips
like pathways to past mysteries
of summers awake beside
moonlight,
streetlight,
late-night walks
stuffing a secret-keeping substance
where hands have laid parallel
or beneath
on Pandora’s box-springed spine.
Wise servant,
I am your keeper’s guest.
I see you only as a book opened, folded truth
known only through consorted study.
written for moxley's class! yeah, it was an assignment, which is why it probably isn't as good as other poems.
also, to continue the movie thing...
Day 04 – A movie that makes you sad:
Milk, because Harvey Milk was an amazing human being and it makes me sad that bigotry against glbtq people existed to that extent (and that it still does!)
Wednesday, October 12, 2011
End of Summer, Barely Sleeping
Here's a new poem! I just wrote it today, in honor of ze fall. It's kind of annoying because I formatted it differently in word, but whatevs.
end of summer, barely sleeping
Today trees hunger for sunlight, loyally starving
in their battle oranges, their red badges,
falling all across the ways the ways I walk.
I try, but I cannot
water their roots for them. My sadness is tucked
away, steadfast behind an eye.
I
can only admit to a lack of devotion
to the changing of colors. I will always be green.
and at my feet
the puzzle pieces fall. wisps of a once
photosynthesizing skeleton. networks of unconnected veins.
crisp breakings of musk we both love remind us
(it is that which makes a home inside you,
builds a hearth, sleeps there,
without forgetting to toss and turn)
at the end of summer, barely sleeping
our limbs touch as if blown together by the wind.
you move, and there it is
that rich, sweet given-up smell. almost starving.
It consumes every thought of you.
The 30 Day Movie Challenge
Day 01- The best movie you saw during the last year
there were no good movies in theatres this year... BUT I saw Little Miss Sunshine for the first time ever... and LOVED IT. Definitely worth sitting through.
Day 02 – The most underrated movie
The Fisher King. Robin Williams was nominated for best actor for that movie, but anthony hopkins got it instead of him (for Hannibal Lecter). It is a profound and amazing movie that no one has ever heard of.
Day 03 – A movie that makes you really happy
ummmmm.... I really love "where the heart is". Not the sappy one with Natalie Portman, but the grade-b terrible acting one with Uma Thurman and Dabney Coleman from the late eighties. It's so adorable.
Friday, October 7, 2011
Twisted Tea, Setting Sun
It's. Friday.
and fall break. I'm completely astounded and so happy that fall break is here. I just ended a four-year sentence at hilltop dining commons, and all of my work is done. Now, it is afternoon, one of my best friends is on his way up from vermont, I'm going white water rafting tomorrow with he and another best friend, as well as my beloved co from the summer, the sun is setting right accross from where I'm laying, and I just finished a bottle of twisted tea. Life is good.
and fall break. I'm completely astounded and so happy that fall break is here. I just ended a four-year sentence at hilltop dining commons, and all of my work is done. Now, it is afternoon, one of my best friends is on his way up from vermont, I'm going white water rafting tomorrow with he and another best friend, as well as my beloved co from the summer, the sun is setting right accross from where I'm laying, and I just finished a bottle of twisted tea. Life is good.
The 30 Day Movie Challenge
Day 01- The best movie you saw during the last year
there were no good movies in theatres this year... BUT I saw Little Miss Sunshine for the first time ever... and LOVED IT. Definitely worth sitting through.
Day 02 – The most underrated movie
The Fisher King. Robin Williams was nominated for best actor for that movie, but anthony hopkins got it instead of him (for Hannibal Lecter). It is a profound and amazing movie that no one has ever heard of.
Day 03 – A movie that makes you really happy
Day 04 – A movie that makes you sad
Day 05 – Favorite love story in a movie
Day 06 – Favorite made for TV movie
Day 07 – The most surprising plot twist or ending
Day 08 – A movie that you’ve seen countless times
Day 09 – A movie with the best soundtrack
Day 10 – Favorite classic movie
Day 11 – A movie that changed your opinion about something
Day 12 – A movie that you hate
Day 13 – A movie that is a guilty pleasure
Day 14 – A movie that no one would expect you to love
Day 15 – A character who you can relate to the most
Day 16 – A movie that you used to love but now hate
Day 17 – A movie that disappointed you the most
Day 18 – A movie that you wish more people would’ve seen
Day 19 – Favorite movie based on a book/comic/etc.
Day 20 – Favorite movie from your favorite actor/actress
Day 21 – Favorite action movie
Day 22 – Favorite documentary
Day 23 – Favorite animation
Day 24 – That one awesome movie idea that still hasn’t been done yet
Day 25 – The most hilarious movie you’ve ever seen
Day 26 – A movie that you love but everyone else hates
Day 27 – A movie that you wish you had seen in theaters
Day 28 – Favorite movie from your favorite director
Day 29 – A movie from your childhood
Day 30 – Your favorite movie of all time
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