Quick insight into my maggie

Cat is not happy
not that food, PLEEEEEASE
stupid humans
time for nap

Mags does not like the food that I am feeding her. It's becoming a test of will.

leap away

leap anyway
the net below
made of nettles and thorns
you are still caught
and alive
but cut and bleeding
and have to take time to
lick your wounds before
running on to the next jump
this time you'll make it across

Hate not having time to do things well, but sometimes you have to go with what you have (I hear). This is rather uncomfortable for me.

por la tormenta

por la tormenta
todo esta cerrado
por la tormenta
mi amiga esta esperando
por la tormenta
estoy buscando
por una via
por la tormenta

Viajé a Guatemala unos dias después del volcán, la tormenta, y el hueco grande en Guate. Tuve que viajar a El Salvador primero. El viaje era buenísmo en total. Espero que volveré pronto.

a place

Corona, envelope my book
Clouds, brushstroke the sky
Bird, float through the blue
Wind, wash the heat on my skin
the space
Carved for me
I accept

I had a day on Monday where I ended up on my roof, eating strawberries and watching the sky. Lovely.

breaking

tension climbs the apex
beyond this point
there is more damage than
intended than
necessary
force of power waters eyes
powered and powerless with sadness and rage
where there can be no more
here
bone breaks
distributes pressure, climax through cells
drama and passion stopped
in regret

There is a beauty in how a bone breaks when it can no longer take the pressure put upon it. It is most obvious in skull fractures that spread out like star-bursts, but all bones break for the same reason: a compromise to save as much as possible. Anyway, I was thinking about my forensic anthropology class while walking around today.

commode: oh no(de)!

so there i was, committed to only shitting at work (they are going to pay me for that, yo!), when i realized that the time had come. i made my way to the loo, not walking too fast nor too slow, saying hi to the people i passed, ignoring the ones that give me the runs, and into final stretch of hallway. someone was coming out of the other bathroom. i hate those pre-/post- business encounters, so i slipped stealthily into the room. no one there. thank god. cause this was going to be noisy. i'm not supposed to eat dairy, but that egg and cheese sandwich really spoke to me (i really am a horrible vegan...). when you know that you need to make some noise, you don't want it to be a performance! especially for your unsuspecting co-workers.

empty room: check. favorite stall: check. and the seat was still up! i was going to be the first butt of the day (sometimes i put the seat back up after i'm done so i can track if someone else has used my stall. just sometimes though). so even though they clean it every night, and the seat was up, i still don't like to touch the thing with my hand, so i reached up my foot and hooked it around the seat and was going to slowly bring it down with the damn thing slipped, crashed against the toilet, and broke! the noise was loud enough to know that someone was coming to check it out (i wonder how loud something has to be for people to hear through the walls... for future reference). i high-tailed it out of there and out of the office. i took care of things at the B&N across the street, got a coffee and walked back in to the office.

no one mentioned the broken toilet... all day. at all. someone should have said something about it by now. but it won't be me. i live by the smelt it/dealt it rule, so i know how to keep my mouth shut. i just hope they get it fixed by tomorrow's performance.

Someone in my office broke the toilet seat. GH asked me to imagine how it happened, so here you go!

midnight whispers

a blood rose blooms
for the skeletal audience
their wheezing breath
still here
still here
skulls rest their cheeks a single socket viewing askew
dripping petals
flowing and pooling
the naked rose remains

a child walks beside me
whispering forgotten memories
her hand gently grabs the
seam of my trousers
smiling, carefree hair
absorbent, watchful eyes
I remember she was happy
she pours her secrets
and walks inside my knees
touching the places
that remember

my stride shortens and slows
to keep her
whispering from
those secret stories to
those hidden spaces
calling to memory
until the witching hour
has past

No commentary aside from: I got a post in in February!