Skip to main content

"From Braid to Bullets"

There is a secret room within me
In it I braid my hair in the mornings
gliding in a blue chair
before riding a horse that is only knee high
where the trick is to keep your legs up in half lotus
and hang on
We all have secret places
where we sing and kill our bosses
but underneath the mosses
where decay and truth get gritty
and we gnash our desires
The furniture of these rooms is unexpected
red leather love seat
cocks hanging from the ceiling
green latex lounge chair
nipples on the ottomoan
where we knit
and suckle an image of ourselves
unknown, unfettered
Here when my teeth fall out
I plug them with bullets
and smile a threat in fate's eye.
I flick a tongue at punishment,
and wave a goodbye.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Friday Quotes! The GAME

Introducing *drumroll please* Friday Quotes: The Game Apparently people play this game in their heads when they read this anyway so here's your chance to make it interactive. Guess who said each quote. You can post your answers in the comments. The person with the most correct answers gets.... the joy of being right. What? I don't paid for this blog, so you'll have to find self satisfaction wherever you can. Let the Games Begin! 1. "She's so dumb she thinks 'soy milk' is Spanish for 'I am milk'." 2. "Yeah... I didn't sit next to him on spaghetti day." 3. “Its just like when you don’t think about something, you know, and then you think about something.” 4. "What, you're my fucking mom? What, you shat me out of your womb?" 5. “I just had all of this emotion, and it burst forth from my face.” 6. “Chances are if you're reading it and you think its Heath, its probably Heath.” 7. “He drinks whiskey, or Izze, or l...

Past tense

I work with this really kickass lawyer. She's been all crazy over this guy lately. He worked for probation. Past tense. Did you see it? Over the weekend he killed himself. Enter past tense, the unwelcome jerk. And I feel soooo terrible. And guilty. Because I tried it to. I talked about it a little in this post . Try #17 and on. That's where I talk about it. A little. And now when someone kills themselves, I feel guilty. Like what I did when I was 17 somehow makes me responsible for everyone who ever does it. Like because I tried it, I should know how to fix it. But there are tons of recovering drug addicts that can't tell you how to get sober. There are great thinkers that can't explain their ideas. And the fact is, no one can explain suicide.

Wednesdays' Weirdos: Kindergarten Krazy

My friends took their 5 year old, Tempest, to look at schools in Denver. One of them went to the Waldorf Schools as a kid so they've been pretty into checking them out. I asked about the visit and these are some of the tidbits I got: - They speak really quietly, apparently its a little eerie. - They had a story telling time where they lit a candle and sat in a circle. At the end of story, they used a snuffer dealie bobber to snuff out the candle. Tempest asked how they did it and they told her "Magic..." in their whispery conspiratorial voices. - One of the teachers told the mom about how at night when she dreams she goes to an alternate plane where she meets up with the children and it is there that she finds out what the children need. Making her this week's Wednesday's Weirdo: Kindergarten Krazy. The dad did not think this was weird. The mom did. I said I'd like to think when she goes home and sleeps, she thinks of something other than work. But wh...