I had a thought:

I will quit poetry for street fighting. so that the blows to the head will make me bleed- split me open-from the outside- instead of what poetry is doing to me now from the inside. slow poison and swallowed glass shards.

 

A lot of people in my class make relevant, pointed biblical and cultural references....but Joyce's writing in Ulysses is so beautiful all I can do is tear up and gape with a mouth wide enough to fit an orange.

Cried the Wind

Bloodcurdling still

may

splice the bleating of blood

 

heart, hung like a hide

to dry on bone crumble.

 

There you were

within the murmur of a blinking eye,

Alive,

insidiously breathing

still.

 

A shimmer of spit

on your lip

crusted slowly on the crest of

the corner of

your mouth.

 

You were afraid

 

The wine drunk

purpled and

marooned and made black

your red, red tongue-- stuck,

now,

to the ribcage of gum.

 

Words died there.

Some, stillborn,

stuck like carcasses without

blood

or phlegm

to enflame them:

 

thick mummified skins

of muteness,

bodies of thought,

thoughtlessly lost.

 

torporous stupor

performed like a swoon,

Like a maiden loved in June

laiden with hissy air kisses

under a cloudy noon sky

her lover sung her

a honey ballad of oil,

the droning joke of summer.

 

You’re dead, artist.

We played no dirge.

They found you wrapped in food stained blankets,

spotted by dried coffee droplets:

The ragged sleepy nest,

a catacomb

lomey with impotent love songs, the hanging breath of tentative

pulsations and

the mercurial spittle

of wafting whiskey.

 

The invisible bard

may

be an invincible god,

but the non-principle minstrel

is dispensable,

dismissible

 

Do you miss me?

cried the wind

 

 

outfit pictures featuring LAURA'S SLOUCHY RED HAT THAT MATCHES MY HAIR

this is my impression of a CC kid. Did i do it right!?!! ALSO: i tried smiling: a new blogging adventure every day. (this was a 2am adventure though. Technically according to college time it was still yesterday I guess.)

this is my IM NOT A ROCKSTAR'S GIRLFRIEND, IM A ROCKSTAR outfit

dont mind me. I think I'll appreciate this outfit diary in the future. I kinda wish I could take pictures of all of them- but that would be way ridiculous....even for me. 

 

have a lovely tuesday

(mine has consisted, so far, of monday and dawn gym (I've never gone when it first opens before...inneresting...) AND MUCH WALKING and stealing sunshine as it slips into december...and staring at the mountains and listening to bob dylan and queen and getting REAL nostalgic. I saw a dog that looked like my dog, bo, who died 2 years ago...and i started to cry again. DAMN YOU JOYCE FOR GETTING ME IN THE MOOD, YOU SEDUCER OF EMOTIONS. I wish i wasn't so stupid. life would be so much easier.) (but then again, i take it back. i guess loving things so much has a price...and i pay it sometimes....but for the most part, I'd rather pray to art/poetry/music and suffer at the sacrificial alter than major in chemistry.) (or work in a cubicle) (sometimes my over-caring and over-worrying borders on nosiness and morbidity mongering... and im not sure anymore if i chose this...or if this path (the poetry path) is inevitable for me. i guess, for once, i dont care. it is what it is and im going down it no matter what.)