writing: a weak explanation for why i skipped two classes today

There is very little I want to do in life anymore; when I think of my shriveled-up ambitions and the sad lack of caring, I am sad too; the sadness is within and without, both the thing consuming me and the cerebral animal response. I want to find that sadness in other people, but mostly… Continue reading writing: a weak explanation for why i skipped two classes today

poem: liberal arts

the woman in the k-mart gable ate french breadwith dirty hands, she had opinions about impressionism but did not know who monet was, only that debussywas apparently an anti-semite, a fact retold at theoryseminars, when she was a young woman and threwher body around like dough. it impossible to say: sex and not also: woman'sempowerment… Continue reading poem: liberal arts

poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it

do you want to know whythe academics are elitists hatedthatcher have politics like sexfuck their candidates roughlyin campaign emails andsupporting media; they knowinside their flower gardenskulls ironic skeletoneyeholes, thinking nothingeverything all at onceall like nothing, my mindis a frida kahlo painting, it is derridait is torn and deconstructedand "torn," a 1997 Natalie Imbruglia pop hitnominated… Continue reading poem: i misspelled the name of the artist and had to google it

poem: insular

is it like last year – the self inside the self? the same lattes, the same late-night girls,working working workingfor ivory schools,jades – and pearls – i can forgive the coffee if it counts towards yale,princeton – oxford –the university of nowhere,un château dans l'air, hiding in front of me,resurrecting what –might have been: the… Continue reading poem: insular

poem: suicide is metaphor

she is leaning out the window, considering— the view. she cannot hang here forever, she will either step away and keep the sky a separate god or she will lean into the inevitable, her fingers splitting in the air her head smashing into damp pieces. her skull is a throbbing lump hanging on a broken… Continue reading poem: suicide is metaphor

poem: blame the angels

I should be writing love poems; I am in love. But I do not feel— whatever it is that the poets promised. My mind—is coming loose and falling far; the stardust hazy, hazy in the fear. the people are applauding, making riot noise: he is just a boy— it is just love. I am saying… Continue reading poem: blame the angels

poem: crush

you were not supposed to do this to me. this is not fair, this is not what I wanted. please get out of my mind and stay brilliant somewhere else. Don't you understand? Everywhere you are and I am, there is so much in the air, I cannot breathe: Color still chokes. soft death is… Continue reading poem: crush

poem: how could i be so stupid? but here we are again.

it is his fault: he smiled at me first, stared at me until I looked up and met his eyes; or our gazes danced around, touching, laughing, sparkling, but never meeting. I thought it was only in books that eye contact made the air crackle. I thought I was done falling in love with people… Continue reading poem: how could i be so stupid? but here we are again.

poem: river flows in you (three steps for love)

i wrote a manual last november: how to fall in love, three easy steps. first, be a ghost, be silent and secret: your lips so dusty that even coughing cracks a new breath. then wait for a boy to uncork into greying Fall days, his eyes splashing wine, his voice nervous and young; while you,… Continue reading poem: river flows in you (three steps for love)

poem: nostalgia, not contrived

the girl sat in her english class and watched the sky flatten itself against the university window, like even the clouds are desperate to get in and learn critical theory. she pulls her sweater over her fingers and silently sulkily puts an earbud in so she can listen to japanese indie and feel like a… Continue reading poem: nostalgia, not contrived