Lie: If I eat soup for all of my meals, I'll be taking care of all my hydration needs.
Truth: No, it is still important to drink water.
Lie: It's not going to rain.
Truth: It is going to rain.
Lie: I'll remember that.
Truth: Write it down.
Lie: No one will notice the hole in my pants.
Truth: It doesn't matter if they notice or not, you're still going to act weird about it.
To be continued...
Thursday, November 20, 2014
Friday, October 31, 2014
Friday, October 3, 2014
Friday, September 26, 2014
Wednesday, September 24, 2014
Thursday, September 11, 2014
Wednesday, September 10, 2014
Saturday, September 6, 2014
Thursday, September 4, 2014
Monday, June 30, 2014
Extraordinary Geraniums by Henri Cole
Eating a sugar sandwich, I sit at the kitchen table
admiring the geraniums outside the window,
their big heads as American as Martha Washington.
I grew them from seeds and now the leaves are frilly like genitalia.
After so many sunrises together, they almost have faces
with puffed out mouths and throats, and when night falls,
they mix glamour with the gutter, like Paris or Rome,
but in the morning, they're themselves again, as birds hover
in the distance --hunting on the wind, using their tails to equilibrate,
pushing their shoulders forward and back to rise and fall.
I love this backstroking, or up stroking,
which the sparrows use, too, when they fly right in front of my car.
Lately, my vision has been greying a little at the edges,
but these geraniums with their fragrant leaves
and this gritty sugar sandwich make me feel my whole body
and my whole mind superimposed at once.
It's the opposite of self-obliteration.
If I think Where am I? I immediately feel I am here!
admiring the geraniums outside the window,
their big heads as American as Martha Washington.
I grew them from seeds and now the leaves are frilly like genitalia.
After so many sunrises together, they almost have faces
with puffed out mouths and throats, and when night falls,
they mix glamour with the gutter, like Paris or Rome,
but in the morning, they're themselves again, as birds hover
in the distance --hunting on the wind, using their tails to equilibrate,
pushing their shoulders forward and back to rise and fall.
I love this backstroking, or up stroking,
which the sparrows use, too, when they fly right in front of my car.
Lately, my vision has been greying a little at the edges,
but these geraniums with their fragrant leaves
and this gritty sugar sandwich make me feel my whole body
and my whole mind superimposed at once.
It's the opposite of self-obliteration.
If I think Where am I? I immediately feel I am here!
Monday, May 26, 2014
Monday, April 28, 2014
Monday, March 10, 2014
Wednesday, February 26, 2014
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Sunday, January 5, 2014
packing to move away
letters from ex-lovers
unfinished tarot deck
wooden dollars for the grocery outlet
a million OFS passes
newspaper clipping of Ollie and me, age 9
beautiful scraps of paper
a sea of tampons and pennies
I can't organize a single thing
unfinished tarot deck
wooden dollars for the grocery outlet
a million OFS passes
newspaper clipping of Ollie and me, age 9
beautiful scraps of paper
a sea of tampons and pennies
I can't organize a single thing