I always tell myself that I should blog more consistently. You know, so I don’t forget things… so that I have a place to go and see how I was feeling around such and such a time. Well, whatever, I’ll blog when I feel like it I suppose.

It’s totally hilarious that in my last entry I mention needing to intern for The Poetry Project… and now I actually am. For no reason whatsoever, I will explain what happened. So I was hanging out with this fellow, when I checked my e-mail. Turns out… it’s Corrine from The Poetry Project, asking if I would like to intern! Luckily, she needed someone for Fridays… one of my only free days. So, now I intern there… and it’s pretty damn awesome. Everyone is super nice and cool… it’s pretty mind blowing, actually. Remember over the summer, and over winter break, when I was all like “why are all of the cool people in Boston, and not in New York!?!?” … well, it turns out I was looking in all the wrong places, I suppose. Now I’m having a grand old time running around to various readings and such. I’m officially enjoying myself, it’s a miracle. Transferring has become a thing of the past, in fact. That makes my life a lot easier… honestly. I’m sure I’ll have my doubts (I’m watching Doubt right now!) when I go back home for the summer, but I think I have a pretty solid base here now, so I’ll try and not be so all over the place. That sentence sucked, but at least I understand it.

I’m just… totally happy with my life right now. Isn’t that weird!? At the end of winter break I was an epic mess… how fast things have changed. Seriously though, it’s really crazy. I don’t know what else to say for now… but yeah. Yeah.

–cheers

The reading the TPP was amazing. Professor North read, which was awesome. I never realized how close he actually is to all of these New York School poets… I mean, I know he is one of them, but they really are all very close! They all write poems to and about each other, it’s really remarkable. I wish I was part of a circle like that, or I hope to be someday… I need to befriend more writers. North actually introduced Danny and I to Tony Towle, and then Robert Hershon even wandered up and introduced himself! I was excited, to say the least. I mean, I really admire these people!

Anyways, here’s some poems I’ve written lately.

She doesn’t know.

I take a step off the train and the rain glazes my face. “I’ll see you over winter break, right?” says Val as she waves good-bye. walking away to work. TDBank North is where she works. It’s small, and I’m sure only my Grandparents ever go there. A white SUV rolls up, it’s my Mom. I open the door and shed my bags into the car; my shoulder throbs and I sit, sighing. My Mom’s sunglasses are too big for her face, like her eyes are too big for her face. I smile and she sees recognition; I feel amusement. “What are you wearing! You look like you walked out of a Woody Allen movie!” Thomas giggles and Kevin kicks the back of my seat. I’m wearing a red sweatshirt and my new glasses; I guess this looks shocking to her? “Thanks Mom, I’ll take that as a compliment.” I do like Woody Allen movies. Little does she know how true her statement is. (Little does she know about my life!)

-

Tuesday

Fat globes of rain roll around in the air
and polish my face. I can feel them pouring
off my nose and my hair sticks clumsily to
my forehead. Wet strands around my neck; I should
have worn a scarf.

“We look like wet dogs, or worse!” I teeter
over a black puddle; Danny steps in it. “Why
did we take the long way?” He’s grinning, it
was his idea, he knows.

A cab rushes by, and there is a girl
walking beside me. The water cascades
around her.

She is dripping, we are sopping.
It’s raining.

-

Poems remember for me

Instead of keeping a diary (no one does anymore) I keep poems.
Poems in my brain begging for recognition in words, they’re
an obscure imitation of the truth, the faces, places, in words
to a certain extent. I put my brain on the page, the bare page. Bare words.
It’s just a jumble of memories to me.

-

cheers–

The sign, red in the dark,
I can see it.

People shuffle by, they
are worlds in an uncertain
orbit, passing me.

It’s stuffy in this bus and
I’m warm in the worst kind of way.
The people I see, they are zipped
or buttoned in coats;
warm in the best kind of way.

A school bus hurtles by
leaving yellow in my eyes.
It startled me.
Where are the children?

There’s a shop selling flowers.
Dylan bought some once, the colors
were nice until they bled in the water.
Imposter flowers.

It’s like I’m living in a popcorn kernel;
the bus ride makes it pop.

_______________________________________

Love

It’s that feeling reminiscent of
sensations produced by music. An ocean
behind your nose, swelling.
It could burst out of your ears.

It’s the sound of a bell, striking,
your eyes got wide.
Bell rings multiply leaving
your chest full of it.

It just feels right, comets
reeling above my head
into space devoid of stars
and full of myself.

_________________________________

Oblivious

On fireworkey nights when I’m “out to lunch” (as
Nonna once said) I blow kisses at the sky,
praying for a response.

Apples tingle in my throat and it swells,
but I’m just not paying attention.

War and Peace lies open, unread.

I’ve got a sense of something though, I know
it’s Friday, 10 PM. The temperature is cool
and I’m wearing a red sweatshirt.

It’s not that I don’t care, I just need to
sit alone on the beach. Only the beach, and me,
then I can get back to it.

It. Life, followed by a question mark.

____________________________________

I wrote all of these during my six hour bus ride to Boston. AKA Hell. It was fine though, since I had some Elizabeth Bishop and Allen Ginsberg books to read. I kept myself occupied, and I’m alive, so it’s all good! I’m so full from Thanksgiving that I might explode.

cheers–

You’ll get out

Go ahead, drown yourself in the sink
with white 2 o’clock light spray
all over the wall.

Take your cord with its carved raven
and the dress spilling red in the light,
leave your house behind you;
the air in front of you is clean.

no wonder you want to leave
for San Francisco
with the ocean spilling over its edges.

Ok, so this is probably one of my favorite poems I’ve written this year. It’s gone through two stages of editing now, I think. I feel quite satisfied with the results, although the middle stanza has caused me a lot of trouble. North told be about the original, not this version, that the middle stanza was unclear. I think I may have fixed that issue in this version… I mean, I could just take out the stanza altogether, but then I feel that the poem would be missing a key part. A key part of my vision, at least.

Go get tea

Boards covered in string to tie the universe up
with gaps to strain out the stars.

Leave the door open behind you, people will want to hear
the comets sing.

the shower got left on, a galaxy dies making a noise
like my shower.

In the hall, there’s Jupiter’s missing ring, I guess I was careless.

Night outside coughs,
giving me something to think about.

Down Ivry Street on my left, Miss Tragert sits on her lawn
making sketches of the air
with her pinky in the grass.

This poem was sort of a mess when I first wrote it… but I love this version. I definitely took out a lot… this poem exemplified one of my worst habits. Making my poems too…. too, as North says. Sometimes I go overboard with the metaphors and the imagery. I definitely recognize this problem, but I think it is unavoidable in my first drafts. I just need to clean my language up after I get all of the ideas onto paper, or onto the screen, respectively. Think clean, think simple… I need to keep telling myself that.

Those are only two of the… 5 or 6 poems I’ve edited today. I might post some of the others later. After we were done with my poems, I mentioned that I was excited for the Aphros submission deadline coming up. So, we started talking about Aphros and North says something along the lines of, “perhaps you will be one of the editors, or the editor, next year.” I couldn’t believe it! I won’t even be a senior yet! If this actually happens… I will be shocked. We shall see.

In other news, I am headed to Massachusetts tomorrow for Thanksgiving break. I can’t believe it’s been a year since… last Thanksgiving. I can’t even begin to fathom how much my life has changed since then. This really was a crazy time for me a year ago, and I suppose it’s a crazy time for me this year as well. It’s making me very nostalgic. I doubt being home will help my nostalgia whatsoever, but I’ll survive.

I can be so impulsive.

cheers–

cheers–

my brain is a well organized notebook, on a good day,
and your words are ink–
scribbled letters for pages and pages,
permanent ink.

-

when do we discover time?
squealing in the arms of our mothers
air diving and light dividing everywhere
born into a 5-star car life
contrained by the ultimate seatbelt, time, involuntarily
as the nurse scribbles the date and time of birth on her chart

-

It’s weird that my poems seem to paste in correctly today, without that weird double space that I couldn’t get rid of in my poem from yesterday… cool I guess? Kind of annoying though, since the formatting of yesterdays poem is far more important than the formatting of these two. I don’t think either of these are even done. We shall see.

Today is going to be, and has been, a nice and productive day. I have decided that I should do a poetry post and a photo post on this blog… I’d love to say every day, but as often as I can. I need some kind of work like this to keep myself up to date and always thinking about both of these things, so that I don’t get into slumps as easily.

There is going to be an epic Frank O’Hara poetry reading at Pace tonight. I am going (obviously)… and I am super excited. John Ashbery might be there…!
Ok, I’m going to do this photo post, and then finish my Emerson paper.
cheers–

It’s funny how empty this blog looks without the private entries (which were written in copious amounts, especially this past summer). Oh well.

I never really write poetry while I’m sitting in classes, but today I actually wrote something during my Byzantine history class. This led to me not hearing parts of the lecture, which I regret, but I suppose I’ll be fine.

Hm, I don’t know. Am I embarrassed to post my poetry somewhere that anyone can read it? This is something I have struggled with for a long time, since my poetry often relates to people who could potentially find and read this blog. That makes me slightly uncomfortable, but I suppose I should just get used to it. Especially if I plan on trying to get any of my stuff published.

I’m going to go write a paper on Emerson now. The procrastination needs to stop.

cheers–

It was one fine day; I’m not exactly sure which day, but I remember it was fine. I was standing proud and glistening under the sun, when a doll came flying into the grass below. “How curious!” I thought. However, it certainly was not all that curious. Soon enough I noticed a woman pushing a small child in a carriage. They swept by without a care in the world, the woman’s hair flying about in all directions behind her. The child I could see only for a moment when she  leaned out over the side of the carriage, blonde locks obscuring her face, small fists flailing toward some imaginary creature.

“This doll, is it yours?” I cried out to the child. She, of course, cannot hear me as I make desperate pleas for her to return. “How tragic!” I sigh and look at the doll, face down in the ungroomed grass. “This doll,” I pause to take a closer look, “it looks well used, well loved even. I hope she comes back for it.” The doll is small with a puffy white bonnet, a pilly, pink footsie, and bulging blue eyes.

_________________________

Ok, I know… strange? Well, this was my short attempt at starting to write a children’s story. I’ll finish it sometime. It is, in fact, based loosely on true events!

cheers–

I have been avidly seeking a good anime discussion forum, and I think I have decided on MyAnimeList, it is active and easy to post on. I was going to do the OtakuCenter, but it seems too kiddy to me. Speaking of anime, I need to finish Haruhi Suzumiya… it is quite good, although the last episode was so boring. Well… I dont really have much to say this morning, seeing as all I did yesterday was babysit. I did do a photoshoot with Kate but, meh, nothing really new about that. I just have a bazillion photos to edit… it’s quite overwhelming. I did get some good shots though. I also ate too much… I need to stop overeating! Must have boundaries! I am going to lose weight this summer… or I’ll never be able to audition for stuff come the fall.

cheers–

She is sitting in a lacy room, in a scene obviously of some other time or place. The dress and decor is a mix of Grecian, oriental, and European (think Marie Antoinette) influence. The protagonist is in a flowing outfit similar to Belldandy, with her hair braided half up. Her outfit is mostly blue, white, and gold (subject to change maybe). She has blueberry colored eyes, and brownish hair with a golden gleam about it. Her face is rather beautiful, and the rest of her is just average. She is sitting eating what looks like cheese and crackers, talking to a red haired (clearly dyed) boy of about her age. They both appear to be in their early twenties, or maybe late teens. He has dark forest-green eyes and pale skin. He seems to be lean and athletic, definitely on the skinny side. She seems uneasy while talking to him, but he appears to be chatting away happily, oblivious to her discomfort. She is secretly aware of the eyes on her and him. The eyes of this boys brothers, two of them actually. One with short, blue, snowy hair; the other with long, pin straight, yellowy hair, tied back into a thin ponytail. They are not speaking or eating, they are simply watching the two. There is neither a look of displeasure nor of approval on their faces, they are simply watching.

“Karsia!” he said, “Come with me!”

She looked up at him; he was glowing with anticipation, ready to spring at any moment. Without a word she stood, making sure not to look behind her, and calmly followed him out of the room. He grabbed her hand and tugged her in some direction, but she was not at all aware of what was happening. She moved mechanically, her mind dazed and everything she passed was a blur over white noise. All she could feel was a boiling in her stomach, an absolute fever of excitement.

‘What am I getting so worked up for…’ she stared blankly at the back of his head, bobbing in the sea of blur.

He led her to an elevator, and some of her acquaintances were waiting for one as well. They looked at her, she could feel their stares. In her head she could imagine their thoughts screaming at her ‘What is this?’ ‘Why are you with him!’ ‘You think you’re so special now, dont you.’ Her eyes involuntarily wandered to her hand, clasped in his. She blinked, then squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, in an effort to silence her inner turmoil. He did not seem to notice a thing, and waited with a fake sort of patience for the elevator, periodically poking the “up” button in an effort to make it come faster. The doors slid open, and he squeezed her hand as he strode into the elevator. He let go of her hand and took out a small, silver key. Her heart began to race and the screams in her head became unbearable. The people watched, not even trying to hide their curiosity. He slid the small and circular metal plate on the elevator door to the side, revealing a shiny key hole. She stood stock still, staring at the floors passing by on the screen. She knew he was turning the key, but her eyes were glued to the screen as the floors ticked by.

“12″ the voice suddenly said as the elevator slid to a halt. Her aquaintances glanced at her one last time before wandering out of the elevator, muttering things she could not discern.

“Ok, this elevator shouldn’t make anymore stops before ours.” he said, turning to her and smiling.

“Oh, ok…” she trailed off,  her eyes wandering around his face. He took a step towards her, and placed a gentle hand on her cheek. This did not make her uncomfortable, strangely, and she tood watching him with wide eyes. They watched each other closely, and his hand slid down to her neck. He held it there for a moment, taking in the warmth.

“Voice identification, please” the elevator was sliding to a halt.

“Ruber–” the elevator door slid open, revealing a circular, cave-like room. The walls seemed to be made of a smooth, sapphire hued stone that had an unnatural glow. The ceiling was high, with a conical shape. There were three small, black tables in the middle of the room; he walked up to the middle one and was doing something with his hands, she couldn’t really tell. She stood in disbelief in front of the open elevator, wondering at how such a room existed, and that she had never heard of such a thing. He turned around suddenly, holding a clear, shining key. It was double the size of his other key.

“Here we go!” he said cheerfully, practically running back to the elevator, beckoning her to follow. He pressed the button for floor 20 as the door slid shut.

“Shouldn’t you…” she pointed at the exposed key hole on the elevator door.

“Oh, right…” he said, blinking, then stepped forward to slide the circular metal plate back over the key hole.

“Karsia–” he said quietly, turning and facing her, “this all may be a bit of a shock, but don’t worry… I mean, I think you know where I’m taking you.”

“Well, I have an idea…” she said nervously, it was actually clearly obvious what was going on and she didn’t quite believe it herself.

“Of course, it is quite obvious after all”  he laughed, ruffling his hair, “I hope you do really want to come with me, I would hate to jump to conclusions thinking that you–”

“Yes, yes!” she blurted out, and in a moment of excitement, she threw her arms around his neck and held him close. She shut her eyes and felt the heat practically steaming off of her cheeks, not believing she just acted so boldly. She felt the pressure of his hands on her back, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m glad to hear it.” They stood there quite still, and it was a surprisingly calm atmosphere.

–more later