Stepping Stone

i am a stepping stone
to greatness
you can tread upon me
on your way
to healing

i am a bridge to
self-knowledge
my river of truth
is forded with
the selfishness of
bears at feeding time
how easy it is to stand
in the right spot
and let the fish
come to you

no effort

no thought of the
death that feeds your soul

but what of the river
rinsed with the blood?

what of the bridge
cracking and breaking
with every footstep?

Another 5 ...

Why, oh why, was I born to be such a dork?

16) As I was reading a book at a coffee shop, by myself, it made me laugh so hard that I was practically wheezing. Making me even more attractive, one of my eyes almost shut while the other only squinted slightly. It's like my inner pirate comes out when I laugh. "Aargh, where's me eye patch, that was funny." And I think I scared the other coffee shop patrons. Is it bad when people scoot their chairs as far away from you as possible in public?

17) I read the encyclopedia as a child… for fun. I enjoyed it. I still read text books to learn, do crosswords to keep my brain active, and get super competitive at boggle to the point of yelling that my competitor's words are made-up and spelled wrong (when it's usually me that spells them wrong).

18) I slipped while walking to my car recently. I made a high-pitched whoooooo sound as my left leg skidded ahead out of control, my right arm flung itself up and threw my coffee in the air, and my left arm threw my keys. (Why I threw my keys, I have no idea.) Fortunately my car caught me before I went down, but did not spare me from the caffeine shower.

19) I dance in my living room and bedroom, on the hardwood floors, in my socks. No matter how many times I slip and fall and almost do the splits, which hurts really bad because I cannot, and have never been able to, do the splits, I still continue to shake what my momma gave me unabashedly and with full energy and exuberance. If I ever actually get caught doing this I will probably pass out from embarrassment, making the aforementioned whoooooo sound as I do so.

20) My bangs cowlick and stick up like little Macaulay Culkin in 'Home Alone.' This great look is enhanced by the fact that I obsessively pull them down with my fingers, separating them and making them increasingly statickey, which then makes them stick up even more. The fact that I write about my bangs and ongoing battle with them, in turn makes me an even bigger dork.

hhmmm...

blank paper
piles up around me
like discarded snowflakes
that refuse to melt

they will bury me
in their unique fury

notes of a
long forgotten song
play tunelessly in my head
taunting me with their
disassociate congruence

time walks by
acts like it has gum
on it’s shoe
to avoid eye contact
“keep stepping because
even this gum won’t stop me”
it thinks

a girl sits across from me
at a restaurant
her shirt spouting more
propaganda and rhetoric
than bush on his mightiest Iraqi steed

don’t stand behind him

he might kick

these are some of my thoughts
tonight
i hope to have more
later

shape

i'm looking at
an example of American "beauty"
on the cover of a magazine

no hips, big chest
impossibly flowy, shiny hair
in essence
she is a long, skinny box with boobs

when did we decide
that this was femininity?
that this was beauty?

i want no part of it

i like myself too much

laundry

i can't write
i have all these thoughts
swirling around in my head
that keep circling
like laundry in the spin cycle
around
and
around
and
around
until they all
get stuck together
and become
one mass of cognition
i can't individualize them
any longer
can't voice them
and certainly cannot
dress them up with interesting words
if they stay in there any longer
they'll start to smell moldy
and ripe
like when you forget
to throw the load in the dryer
and you have to rewash it
i'm just wasting water
and words

well...

well
today is the day
the big day
the day to get through

it's sunny outside
and i can hear a lawnmower
it's not my lawnmower
because i don't have one
nor would i use it that often

it's nice to be
out of vancouver
for this day
too many memories
too many stop lights
going down mill plain
that would detain me
right at the spot
that i last saw her

she would have been 58
and i would have teased her
about coming upon 60
as she threw back
that i am almost 30
but she never saw me turn 25
so that conversation won't happen
among others

she didn't see me buy my house
or get promoted
twice
and she will miss
everything
big and small
as i will miss her
how do you celebrate the big things
when there is a hole in them all
that complete happiness
will always seep out of?

i haven't figured that out yet
and certainly won't today

8/27/07

sledgehammer

sometimes it hits you like that
a sledgehammer
but not poppy and upbeat
like that 80s song
it’s more deep and
conniving
you think you’ll turn the corner
unscathed
until it arches towards you
deep and fast

3 years

how did that happen

I’m forgetting the tone of her voice
and the way she would
tilt her head and purse her lips
when a camera aimed
it’s ugly head at her
she hated her picture taken

I miss her so much

why does August have to circle
back around
as sure as rain and taxes
when you learn that you can depend
on nothing and no one
why does August stay so loyal

I have to get through Monday
and then we’ll talk
ask me how I am in 4 days
because I might not make it

I have still never heard from her
in my dreams
she’s visited 3 of the most beloved
ladies in my life
yet I have not seen her
what does that mean
that I’m blind
or she’s gone
left without saying goodbye

she couldn’t talk to me that last day
but she knew I was there
kept gasping
until I calmed her
over and over again

I’m so glad I was there

but how do I get through Monday…

8/23/07

what it is

our pact was made
before I even knew
I had spoken

you snuck in
and took over something
and now I am wandering around
trying to figure out
where it is

what it is

I wonder what you’re thinking
and where you even came from
how was it so natural
like a tear drop
falling languidly down
the petal of a lily
or the feel of your hand
running slowly
up and down my back


a week ago
I didn’t know you existed
and now
your existence in another
part of the state
is teasing me

you’re driving
even further away from me
and all I have is the phone
by my side
to connect to you

what is it

I wonder

what is happening
and how do I stop
from barricading myself in
so I don’t feel the onslaught

font

i’m typing with one hand
while eating an apple
i could be zen about it
and say that it forces me
to slow down and focus more
on what i’m feeling
and how i want that
to translate to words …

but right now
i’m just feeling annoyed
that it took me three minutes
to type this

the apple isn’t that good

now i’m changing the font
times new roman is so industrial
reminds me of furiously
typing papers in our
college office/broom closet


aah, Verdana
much better
this is a happy, crisp font
conducive to clearly construed
words that are hard to find
in my incomprehensible
state of mind

it’s 8:57 on a Friday night
and i’m watching a beautiful sunset
burn the sky of a distant coast


really i’m just staring at my
notebook wallpaper
but i have a good imagination

the apple slices are almost gone

8/10/07

rationalize

am I justifying
my newest venture?

maybe I am

it’s not so easy
for some of us
and I don’t know why

but don’t tell me
I have my head
in the clouds
for I am more
firmly rooted
than you can imagine
by this immobile sense
that there is more than this

right at the beginning
I will know it

no need to culture the seed
or wait for a bloom

I am the soil

what is placed inside me
will either
live
or
die

it’s the most
black and white
thing about
all this