February 2012
14 posts
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Tying Loose Ends
She believed her veins were loose ends because they disappeared into her palms and so she cut to tie them like the string of balloons around her wrist her mother knotted on the ferry back from Disney World but still she cried as the blue mouse slipped undone and twinkled with the stars.
teacupofyellow asked: I know you're probaly very busy with life, but I just wanted to let you know that your poems are absolutely lovely. You should coninue to post your beautiful work! :)
Anonymous asked: hey there operahousegirl :) i just wanted to let you know that i stumbled upon your tumblr this friday and it has completely changed me. i've experienced an aweakening that's inspired me to write again. thank you. your words are absolutely stirring and lovely. by the by, it was your grandma-and-the-teacup poem that grabbed me. please don't ever stop creating beauties <3
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Eye of the Beholder
My eye is a white spool of thread unraveling into paint, you said. I colored ladybug wings when tears washed blush and ‘laser lemon’ Crayola fingerprints from cheeks —after, “it’s toxic.” Like the freckles on your shoulder that turned blue in April when rain opened its umbrella against you and caught you on its tongue. “Mon Étoile,” he’ll say to the girl with the ring of daisies...
rusetheswindler asked: You have a wonderful blog, and you're very beautiful :)
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Anonymous asked: Where do you get your inspiration?
whiteboywithglasses asked: oh my godd, do you write all these poems?? they are SO amazing.
freudian-slipped asked: i am obsessed with your blog. it is beautiful, and your writing is amazing.
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My grandmother’s glasses
hung outside
her heart as
she
poured
tea into my lap.
“I’m not a cup,”
I said
catching
second-degree
burns
between fingers.
“If you were, nothing would
slip away.”
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Reap
If heartbreakers must walk barefoot
on the broken pieces maybe they
would think twice
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Formation of a Star
When I was hydrogen, colorless and light
specks of protein in eyelashes—molecular gas in irises,
I needed to collapse to increase in density (converting to helium).
I rise,
a star is formed.
Seven billion eyes see my spark, but I—
I burn myself away.
January 2012
13 posts
9 tags
How |You Are/Are You| a Hero
The morning you half broke up with me, my chin met the cement and you slid clean off
with the skin.
I held the rinds and pressed my fingers to the fruit and felt it burn.
It was a game of Crack the Whip and you let go because you feared fingernails dug into the backs of my hands
and after,
my body broke against the wall.
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Dead Weight
When the weight of you grows too heavy
I slip you off my shoulders where
your palms greet the earth.
Kicking ribs, I check your mouth for my Coca-Cola
and finger your ears for a coin-return; my pockets are empty.
Turned your body like a grapefruit
and sliced down the middle
probing for lungs and
closing electric circuits instead.
The buzzer lights your red plastic nose.
On my back...
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The Popularization of Beating Hearts
She’s painting for the popularization of beating hearts.
As a child, I remember eating acorns
and thinking I was a part of nature.
If you had the courage as the hummingbird has,
flapping your wings 12-80 times per second
between red and blue houses;
blue-throated heart rate at 1260 beats per minute
among the lemon trees like laundry detergent or foreign nectar—
watching the gnomes in the...
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Nothing in Your Peripheral Vision
It is when you are driving back from the city
and you remember how she fell asleep in your passenger seat on long car rides
even though you told her to stay awake and keep you from growing bored
and you look from your peripheral vision and you see she is not there.
You wonder what that feeling is but you don’t quite think it is love
because you were never truly sure what love was
but she was...
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He sighs at my tears. But I shake my head...
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Bring me in the moment the ships come in fill me with wind like a sail I’d like to face the rising sun.
At present, my eyes are always closed towards it.
“Wake up, wake up,” I say inside my head. But I just roll away from my window and pull the sheets around my ears.
I’d like to be the color red—I’d be a ribbon in her hair.
What is color, anyway—and why do we lose it?
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The Bird and the Fish
The bird pities the fish because it will never know what the sky is like. The bird dips its beak into the water.
“What a pity,” it says to the fish. But the fish just laughs and says,
“Do not pity me. Look into the water where the clouds float through in the day and the stars shine at night. Look into the water where the sun rises and the sun sets and the moon takes...
December 2011
35 posts
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Contact: Hope
You used to have me in your phone as “Hope,”
tell me, did I give you hope then?
I want to be somebody’s warmth.
How funny, I keep writing about the love I want myself. Suddenly,
I just want to love.
I want my laugh to bring happiness.
I want to use all of my strength until nothing is left.
Yes, I want to be...
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Steps to Forgetting a Lost Lover (For Writers)
If you are a writer, it is very easy to forget about someone. People say that we artists feel emotions more deeply than non-artists. This can become a snag in our creative psyche. If we are left heartbroken, we tend to stay that way for a long period of time—and it shows. My writing can turn from decently structured prose with cheerful focuses into a parenting brochure entitled “Signs...
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New Year's Resolutions
The thing is, I don’t think we ever mean it. No matter how many times we say it, no matter how much we plan on meaning it—we never do. “I want to be a better person,” we say. But what steps do we actually take to carry it out? After a few days, we’ve forgotten our resolution and a year down the road some film hero or line in a book dusts off the box in which we place our ethics and we...
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The Wedding Bells
If you were to leave me now
and carry on with flattened brow
to a life without me in it
*
I would be the wedding bells
your blooming bride’s bright eyes to swell
to; announcing her arrival.
*
I would be the honeyed tune
that celebrates your wed in June
for I would be the happiest.
*
Soft smile now, on your wife-to-be.
Even she would pout with envy
at the joy I’d hold for you.
*
...
msdps asked: Gawd, wish I could be as creative as you.. Can't wait to see more of your cool stuff :)
nerdynini asked: i love the writing,very inspiring, amazing choice in words! love it!
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Always
I follow the waves
crashing in and
crashing out,
but always crashing
as I
follow my heart
aching for you and
aching from you,
but always aching.
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I Never Follow Old Sayings, I Follow You
Now is now and then is then
I give you one, but you take ten
Where did “then” go?
I wouldn’t know
How do you move so
If I were to move more slow
And reach for your hand
I’d wait always and
Fall far behind
I never had my ducks lined
Up in a row
I never had a dandelion
To blow
Luck never gave me a chance to earn it
You live and you learn it
But I only learn it
and never live
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I Don't Want Diamonds, They Are Cold and Hard
I will never be still
Singing lightly, I will
Chase the daylight away
To speed up the day
I’ll keep the promises, I said
If I could lift my head
I will carry you into the roses
Though, at your touch they froze
You thought I wanted diamonds when
You saw me looking then
I needed something softer
Skin to skin, I’d prefer
You thaw yourself out
And sweat away your doubt
Said this was who you were
But...
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“I said, “No, people don’t get what they deserve—they get what they think they...”
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Sweet 'N Low
“We need eggs, bread—milk’s getting low.
Tangerines are on sale.”
“We’re out of love,” my mother said, sitting at the kitchen table
making out a grocery-list, cutting coupons and scanning the weekly circular with practice; turning and reversing as though the pages collected a flip comic.
“I don’t seem to see it in here,” she sighed,...
undevelopedapathy-deactivated20 asked: i like your picture! it looks so perdy!
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Inking Freedom
He was the boy who kept a sonnet in his pocket
and a story on his arm.
He believed in ink on paper
and on skin—
inked roots on his shoulder linked to ink veins.
But there’s no roots
on the soles of his shoes.
Tattoos were the only permanent idea
he could hold in his hand aside from a pen.
“Freedom to do whatever you please,”
he preached.
But he needed freedom, too.
He thought his roots were in...
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Notre-Dame de La Platé Chimes
Au revoir, au revoir, my stellar, my star—
you apple-orchard dweller.
All that time—did you hope an apple would fall and change your life, mon étoile?
In your Aunt Hortensia’s wine cellar we’d mix Snapple with lime and alcohol.
With a pocket knife, you cut
11 inches of my hair. It was the second time I watched my mother...
bloodandconcrete asked: Hey I just wanted to let you know you're amazing! And I hope you're having an amazing day =)
anusdelrey asked: I love all of your text post. It's really artistic and inspiring. Keep it up P.S sorry for all my graphical imagery posts.
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Orion's Eye
I fell for you with the first fall of snow.
I followed your finger through the air
and it was then I knew,
we two, were laughers at the sky. You advanced your eyes
across Orion and
t h e t h r e e k i n g s
adorning his waist (the middle star is not a star at all, you said).
You outlined Canis Major; Canis Minor; I
traced the contours of...
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Star Beneath the Bell Jar
Darlin’, darlin’ why do you keep your star
beneath the bell jar?
Don’t you remember the night the wise men
came lookin’ for you up in the opium den? You were blinded—
there was too much light
on the twelfth night. They led you up the stairway and
you went stage-right and smiled uncertainly
just to be polite and you...