To Spring.
We must first coil.
Curl up inside the soil.
But soon the nest becomes a tomb.
We bloom!
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NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 5 (a Cinquaine)
NaPoWriMo
Work. Dream. Haiku.
Unraveling dream:
“What is God’s theory of change?”
Measuring belief.
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NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 4
The Writer’s Shanty
What do we do with a wordy writer?
What do we do with a wordy writer?
What do we do with a wordy writer?
Early in the morning!
Cut out all the crap and make it tighter.
Cut out all the crap and make it tighter.
Cut out all the crap, please make it tighter.
Early in th morning.
What do we do with a passive voice?
What do we do with a passive voice?
What do we do with a passive voice?
Early in the morning.
Figure out the action and make a choice.
Figure out the action and make a choice.
Figure out the action and make a choice.
Early in the morning,
What do we do when it all just stinks?
What do we do when it all just stinks?
What do we do when it all just stinks?
Early in the morning.
Rip it up, toss it out, let it sink.
Rip it up, toss it out, let it sink.
Rip it up, toss it out and let it sink.
And get yourself a drink!
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NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 3
Stroller Talk
I am pushing the stroller over city sidewalk.
We bumble through discarded cups.
“The earth is our mother.”
Why did I just say that?
“She gives us a place to live, food to eat, water to drink.”
Four year old ears listen to everything.
She chews on my words with her teeth.
She tastes something fishy.
“If the earth is our mother, who is our father?”
Damn! Keep pushing, keep moving, keep talking.
“The Sun! He keeps us warm, he gives us energy. And light!”
I am a genius. It’s all wrapped up in a neat package.
The wheels rattle and I scan for bumps in the concrete to avoid.
She spits it out. It tasted ok, but something in the texture was off.
“I don’t think the earth is our mother.”
I swerve to avoid hitting the tracksuit in front of me.
“It’s not? What do you think it is?”
When in doubt, turn the question around.
“It’s a planet.”
Shit. She’s good.
“A planet is a planet.”
The wheels continue to rattle in my head.
Thank goodness we’re almost there.
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NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 2
What happens?
What happens to girls is this:
First we bleed, we bud, we bloom.
We become some thing that attracts attention.
We become boobs, butt, legs, body.
We become an opening to be filled.
We become woman.
This is what happens.
What happens to boys is this:
First you look, you lust, you lunge.
You learn to take what you want without asking.
You learn to stalk, to hunt, to trap.
You learn to kill for pleasure.
You learn to be man.
This is what happens.
Then the sky fills with poison gas.
Then the mountains consume themselves in flame.
Then there is nothing but vultures circling.
And the dust settling
on what we were meant to be.
More than woman. More than man.
Curse these forsaken forms.
This is what happens
to us all.
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NaPoWriMo 2013: Day 1
american incarnations 