December Revised

december

 

a shoulder

a wrist

an ankle

connecting parts

 

december tore me to pieces

worked me until my throat was dry

  

a glass of water

 

                at 3:52 in the morning

                       i laugh

 because you look so vulnerable

                       walking naked into the kitchen

 

 

only a few sips before sleep , clammy bodies pressed up against one another.

 

 

here where the draft blows in from my closet

where the window broke in august;

december tears in.

 

December

December was a really tough month. My grandfather died, among some other not so pleasant events. Here's a poem I wrote.

http://www.imdb.com/title/tt1231587/ . Actually that's a link to this great new movie coming out ( ha ha....seriously). It was on my "copy" thing and I think I'll keep it in this post. Now here's the poem (it's a rough draft and probably will change)

december

a shoulder

a wrist

an ankle

connecting parts

 

december tore me to pieces

worked me until my throat was dry

 

heavy knocks on the door

spanish stairwells echo

eros holds my hand and walks me home.

 

you get me a glass of water

 

                at 3:52 in the morning

                        and i laugh

 because you look so vulnerable

                       walking naked into the kitchen

 

 

and i only take a few sips before i fall asleep , clammy bodies pressed up against each other.

 

 

here where the draft blows in from my closet

where the window broke in august

i never got it fixed and december tears in

 

here i am

 

shaken out

 

 

the dirty rug draped over my balcony.

December Dinner

My feet really hurt when I got home so I decided to make a quick, corn fritter type thing for dinner. Then I found my camera and took some photos of my food, during the assembly and eating process. After I did the dishes I didn't know what to do so I made a blog to post pictures of my food and some poetry that I write. I also got new plates today and so I'm really proud of that. They are made from recycled bamboo and are a fine purchase.


I decided to post this poem because it also has to do with food, except a really embarrassing encounter with food.



friday at the whately diner

a choir of drowning dogs sound while root beer bubbles out of my lungs.
it’s hard to get angry at your friends—
even when they look at you struggle for air.

the heimlich maneuver only works if you have food caught in your throat.


i don’t want to eat anyone’s leftover steak
and maybe it’s karma
lodged in my windpipe
building a fence to keep out the air.