Monthly Archives: April 2010

NaPoWriMo, day twenty nine

(photo credit here)

soul reheating in the dawn of a liquid-gold morning,
rusted paint and shattered headlights are yesterday’s echoes.

the chalky hood of the truck provides a platform of possibilities,
these fragments of glass sprinkled over busted leather seats and reflecting the
found in the irrelevance of size,
in the songs of the snow and  deep sea
and the
wrath of lightning and stars,
of a white hot sunrise embracing her body,
seeping all the way through her to
each and every galaxy contained in a single cell,
pulsing to the rhythm
of an awakening heartbeat.



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NaPoWriMo, day twenty eight

i stare at the slightly darker shape of my fan spinning on my shadowy ceiling,
trying to ignore the loud humming sound
and the heat securing my shirt to my skin with superglue sweat.
after an hour and a half of punching my pillow and tossing in the tangle of sheets, i climb out of bed to my bookshelf,
tripping over schoolbooks and half-finished letters in the dark.

meaning to pick up my favorite book,
my fingers fall to rest on something else,
something small and cool and hard, a sharp edge scratching my finger.
i pick it up and sit back on my quilt,
holding it up to the window and letting the moonlight illuminate the object
cradled in my palm.

solemn painted eyes gaze up at me
in the soft haze of light, as i recognize the little glass dog
with a jagged, broken ear, his knowing face seeming to ask, do you remember?

wait! i shouted, running forward. you can’t take everything!
he looked up in surprise from the box of discarded objects, half-shrugged, and walked away.
i waited for him to leave, then reached out and grasped my favorite,
a china figurine chipped with the strength of past love.
now it fit perfectly inside the grasp of my fingers,
as i sank into a hard chair,
then slipped it inside a pocket.

it remained there as i watched them toss
the rest of my memories out the window, biting into my hip,
the hard shape of it indented in my skin for the rest of the day,
comforting me a little as his tools disappeared
along with old boxes of recipes and trash, treasure mixed in with broken cups
and packed into ugly, musty-smelling u-hauls boxes
before being thrown in the alley behind the house
for garbage trucks or homeless people to pick up as they wished.

i curl up under the sheets again, clutching the only memory i insisted on saving
in a fist under my pillow as i close my eyes
and finally feel my muscles sag like cut strings.

i remember.

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NaPoWriMo, day twenty seven

dear stars, here in my sprawling city, i write
love letter to imaginary galaxies, dreamt-of worlds without exhaust filled skies. i grow dizzy
like tinkerbell overdosed on poisoned medicine,
clap your hands for neverland! belief, what a
misused word. when you believe in everything, there’s nothing to lie about, no purity in the truth.
light even finds its way underground, surrounded by fairies and blood thirsty, wild children and make-believe mothers. here comes the crocodile, tick tock,tick tock.

there are still bedtime stories to tell,
dreams inside dreams
inside sleeping children trusting in the simple watchfulness of the
billions of nightlights above the london rooftops.

i take little comfort in open windows tonight, in the thought that someone
will always be waiting for me to come back home.
instead, i gaze through the cracks in my thick, dusty blinds that block out the streetlights and tiny, burning airplanes like fireflies,
an occasional tear staining soft elephant ears (pink faded to gray)
as the girl who grew up
found herself in a neverland
where pirates were deceptively soft and sweet, committed to
untiring patience,
and wore nutmeg-scented leather gloves to hide the steel hook below.

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NaPoWriMo, day twenty six

“yeah, i live for little moments like that”

we’re country music on the fourth of july, singing along while fireworks explode like glowing spiders over our heads, warm root beer and mosquito bites in the dark, telling you-had-to-be-theres and laughing hysterically while lying on a stained quilt in the soccer field.

we’re sprinkles and frosting tangled in long dirty blond hair, video camera rolling and scalding water spraying us until we’re soaked through and breathless with inside jokes and footage of four little church girls losing their minds.

we’re two awkward first impressions, the bookworm and the obnoxious cute guy- the last friendship anyone (including us) expects to see, full of midnight conversations, nicknames, arguments, ridiculous schemes about college and traveling the world, stubborn comparisons and permanent marker ink
on the inside of an arm that doesn’t come off.

we’re a bunch of opposites, harsh words and tears caught in throats and trying to spill over, stomachaches from giggling fits and strained vocal chords, turning a lighthearted wish into a furious argument and resentful jabs one minute, dancing on the table and singing our heads off  in a fit of crazy fearlessness in the next.

no one ever called us perfect- only a pile of once-in-a-lifetime opportunities.

(This one’s for my AZ best friends. Taylor, Mikayla, and Justin, you guys rock my socks. I know we all argue ((well, except for Taylor… you and I got our arguing out during our hating-each-other-phase when we were little)) but our crazy inside jokes and your amazing patientness in dealing with me makes it all worth it. I totally don’t deserve your amazingness, God’s blessed me three time over with you guys. Love y’all :) )

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NaPoWriMo, day twenty five

(photo credit here)

we slip inside a box
a mile above the streets,
flying up and sinking down
in circles,
like hands of a clock
painting roller coaster paths for stars to
race along
above our carnival ride.

headlights shoot through the city below us,
but these new heights don’t frighten me;
it’s the best angle
to read the stories being written
along freeways and galaxies
to the rhythm of our sleepy,
neon-tinted breath.

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NaPoWriMo, day twenty four


as our hands fall apart,
i throw my arms out and

feet bleeding and
dancing over thorny weeds,
barbed wire,
smashed coca-cola cans (like
rubies sprinkled on the ground
from a distance)
mounds of dust, and
trashed treasure,

we both know how it feels
to be a little like angels.

(photo credit here)


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NaPoWriMo, day twenty three

so this is upside down;
the veins stitched to the underside of your skin
bursting into bruises
one by one,
spine arching as you lean backwards out the window,
your hair tangling in the wind and the metal
windowsill cutting into your neck.

stretch your legs out on the red velvet seat of the train,
ignoring the stares for the stars
as we fast-forward through the world.

knitting your fingers together with indigo yarn,

go the needles, tangling you up
in a net,
barely holding you down to the earth
as your heart strains against your chest towards the
where the birds are spreading like salt and pepper
on a cinnamon backdrop.

just a thousand miles to the emerald city, you whisper.

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