NaPoWriMo: April 12-13, 2012

NOTES FROM THE NIGHT

Magic causality.

Superstitions are abridged takes.

Daughter born with soft heart

because I grieved while I carried her.

Father’s leadfoot.

Can’t send out.

On the inside, petty.

Stuffing, ogling.

Now that’s a fucking queen.

Laughing at.

The phone is my shepherd,

hollow point.

HAIKU

The dog is sleeping.

I am so goddamned tired.

I think she is too. 

NaPoWriMo: April 11, 2012

A revision...

Scared            whorled                       

left in            analyzed bitten                       

aborted                        panicked

knackered  from treading           

subjugated   by ardor                       

and despairing            autobiographed                       

suckered            defenestrated figuratively          

lost            caved in

adjudicated            carried up up up up                                                        

how one             comes    away from     the foundation

fessed and fisted  hammed

gladded  and badded

baded   a hearty heart

NaPoWriMo: April, 11, 2012

WORDSWORTHIAN SUBLIME

My mouth

My south-

ern mise en scene

My boquita

My insolent and evil twin

taking my calls for me

making my calls for me

My raging and misfiring

neural pathways

O my stars

O my miserable French

kiss

My hair is all mine

My workout this morning

was solid

My how wide-ranging you are

My mama
My descent

My mine

My okay you’re okay

My etymology is song

and God’s promise

My poems are a crypt

My poems are the crypt

My tendencies: self-destructive

My impulses: well-meaning

My grandmother told me

I’d be a guitar

My oh my is that a gun

or are you just happy to be me

My word

My sakes alive

My slow jam

My prom dress made of wood

My admission of complicity

My oppressor

My divinity

My stunning and singular intellect pressed against the slop

NaPoWriMo: April 9, 2012

Today I wrote poems with my son. He wrote a poem based on Neruda's Book of Questions. He also wrote an acrostic about Super Mario. I tried to write an acrostic, but that impulse died quickly. 

I AM NOT AN ACROSTIC

Sometimes humble  but always             dragon

occasionally     out of range

taller than that                        Braver than this

pounding pavement                        into perpetuity

fan of heat            Sometimes             celebrate good times

trash talking                  the fountain of youth 

straight jeering   the night peters out    along

with my resolve              to  self-improve   Quite

shocking   when             I open my mouth

NaPoWriMo: April 8, 2012

These are the really rough bones for a poem,  but enough for today. 

FOUNDLING

The charlatan was a prelude

to the colors she’d see

Oh those razor-sharp

colors and their audacious

hullabaloo

She shook along

with their wizardry

Laughed the laugh

her mother left

in the cigar box

Two modes diverged

in that yellow mood

Once she was a bad hunter

NaPoWriMo: April 7, 2012

MINOR THREAT

My drag is a kind of elevator.

It’s like a title.

You’re soaking in it.

It’s chainmail and a courtesy for your likes.

I start my stories with it.

And when I’m hungry it opens the door.

The door is pop-up window into my soul.

Deep and meditative, a vertigo of soul.

My cruel, divisive temperament: my cross

to bear, we all bear it because of out shared

ancestry: lint, filth, water, sulphur. 

NaPoWriMo: April 6, 2012

Inheritance

Please, nuisance, mark your patch.

Kite, there’s an expression for people like you.

It’s not for mixed company.

Puddle, buy me diamonds. Buy me soul food.

Stick, make that gesture more fluid and more advanced.

Yesterday I came to the pond because I’m obsessed with absolution.

It keeps exploding next door.

New York City and what we once were, glitter dyad.

I keep working hard, working it, working for a living.

I shouldn’t have said that.

And then, the reveal.

Dry, she said.

Coat, I know you, coat. I know you’re the jealous type.

The gigolo keyed my frock.

Credit card, open wide.