Twelve Years Old and Afraid

 

Twelve Years Old and Afraid

apple seeds once flew like stardust

in the heavy august. 

and they too,

fell splat upon the mud!

just like me,

splat upon the mud!

/

--indenting a me-shaped-blob

onto the soft earth. 

we're living on an earth that has "grown soft." 

you're growing soft earth! what gives? 

give it up, tell us! 

/

usually "growing soft" is not a good thing.

it happens after you have kids, or play with kids.

Papa says sometimes

i am sometimes not a good little thing. and like a secret,

I crave the bad softness,

the rot that cushions splat. 

but I find none under the layers of mud. 

/

the earth is a rock beneath the ground. 

I want to suffocate in its mud,

but the mud layer is too thin for drowning

in, and so,

I turn over:

all but my naked grape eyes, camouflaged

by an encasement of wormy hashbrown mud.

belly skyward,

/

I stare

/

at the plumage of the young apple tree. 

its single apple, beetlejuice bright, with an aura of dusk:

the burning ruby at the 

core of a kiss. 

a whisper escaping prayer. 

/

and a blackbird lit red in the ruddy purple dusk seems stuck

in spindly frequencies of tree silhouette.

from my stuck spot 

in the soft squelch,

the bird is caught. 

/

In fear, I close my eyes

and the view from heaven lays bare its darker secrets: 

flying through star bursts of blindness,

I spread my armwings and white february zooms by and march slings through the night and april drops like a stone and may says hello as she floats into the purple moon 

and when I wake from the not sleeping-dreaming,

standing up, 

ankle deep

in the cool mud

/

the me-blob has sprouted angel wings!

perfect angles indented

contours into the fine marrow of rocks.

the secret marrow seems

as delicate as the tree fingers 

that cling to it, embracing

its feverous grasping growing 

with knowing arms as wide as a blue planet,

width, exaggerated by its aura of sapphire empty brilliance,

the haunted void that is not soft,

cannot rot for lack of rock.  

/

I am so tiny 

surrounded by cities of my drip castles

/

I am so tiny 

standing at the foot

of angel-shaped void where earthmarrow

peaks through 

/

smiling a delicately faceless gift of smiling

the earth's face is a hyperbole of myth

though my babytooth mouth and little petal tongue prays its comfortable story

a  millennium where i stand at the beginning 

beneath the black silhouette of a tree

at dusk

 

you know... theres a lady gaga quote that I can't get out of my mind...its about how she sometimes hates to sleep with people because she feels like they're stealing her creativity. or something.

at first...it sounds stupid. but the quote just wont leave my head. and I've come around. its for the same reason that I refuse to let somebody who i personally do not believe is (more or) equally as intelligent as I am ...even touch me. and when it gets right down to it, in the past when i've been with people who aren't...i feel like they're stealing something from me. like im giving them something they can't give back to me equally. like the loss of respect for myself is a result of a sexual measurement that fell short intellectually. 

so, lady gaga, despite all those caricature cartoons that depict musical notes coming out of your vagina...

 

i feel you on that one. 

 

creativity is like osmosis. it doesn't belong to anyone. its an interchange. a flow. and if its denser in one area...it flows to the area of less density.

don't fuck stupid people. (and by stupid, I mean people who think within the repetitive patterns thrust upon them, people who are satisfied with mediocrity, who accept the unbeautiful and don't know the difference.)

they'll gladly take the more liveable world you create for them but they will only give hard ugly realism in return.

Comments

[Heather]

You probably think I'm becoming your stalker. But you should know that I thoroughly appreciate everything you write. You're kind of an absolute inspiration. Thank you for being so fucking honest and blunt all the time.

[ali]

of course not! im a big proponent of connecting with people via writing correspondence.

Also, this is what blogs are for. I've followed and commented at the same blogs....blogs i stumbled upon randomly for two or three years now. and I consider those bloggers my friends. and I love them.

Im glad you like what Im writing...its all for the purpose of communicating with people...and/or entertaining them (whichever they prefer to call it.) So this makes me very happy!

[Heather]

Glad to read that. :) And I agree -- I've met quite a few bloggers over the last year (mostly food bloggers as I seem to adore reading about food) and it's amazing how connected you can become with such random folk. I love it.

Reading your blog makes me all the more pumped for my summer at CC. I keep swinging back and forth with my enthusiasm -- but you've helped keep up the optimism. Plus, I don't know, the way you think flows with my mind well. Not many people rant/word in such a freestyle uncensored way. Good to know I'm not the only one!

[ali]

CC is definitely a mixed bag- and the only way to approach its community is with an open mind for all its fuckery, snobbery and intermittent awesomeness.

I love the food blogs but I can't read them too often because they make me sad.

and yes! amazing friendships via blogging...I've learned so fucking much from ALL of them.