11:15 PM

Searching for wishing stars again
I have a request that I need
to ask a star tonight
And please don't stop me.

I want to undone you from my heart.

I tweeted earlier about writing a recipe poem. I don't know where I got the urge to do that, but I found that I really had to, even if it was crappy. So I wrote two. AND THEY ARE CRAPPY. But surprisingly I didn't have to struggle with writing them. They just came out. Maybe that's why they are crappy lol. But I don't care. I am happy that this journey is almost over. When I find my strength to write about it, then I'll tell you why. Because this year, doing this month was not easy. But I got through it. Now the poems.

Cooking up disaster on a quiet and pleasant day

1 cup of desire
2 tablespoons of regret
3 oz of I don't give a fuck

A dash of a cool day
1 quart of tweeting birds
held too closely to the ears.

A sprinkle of a song that isn't
yours and a 1/4 of dreams
rolled and flatten

onto a chopping board made
of heart flesh and a knife
sharp enough to cut

the mixture into tiny squares,
small enough to pack
into take out box

but not before you take
the lot and stick it in
the oven to burn.

---


The Ultimate Recipe (Six Worder):

Take everything and put into blender.

i.
there needs to be a
moment for the just-a-friend.
where are my love songs?

ii.
the rain doused us with
sewing machine droplets, stit-
ching us to the ground.

iii.
my hips buckle against
thunder claps, toes slick with drops
of your skin rattled.

sticky, sticky, sweet
shot of secrets air out my
cobweb heart. thrill me,
thrill me, willling particip-
ant for a game of heartbreak.

You feel like the beginning of a beautiful summer day: 
warm, heavy, and humid. 
My lungs feel like collapsing 
as I think about your smile, 
heart's racing and aching a mile a minute. 
Body goes cold with a fever 
as I try to catch my breath. 
Slow down, don't work up a sweat. 
Slow down, don't let your heart
...oh that's what you feel like. 
You feel like the beginning of a beautiful heartbreak: 
warm, heavy, and humid.

15/30 4.15.11 - Six Worder

found love. tore off the tag.

16/30 4.16.11 - I

ran shaking fingers
under your heartstrings, ready to
negotiate the

fire burning through
a line already charred and e-
rased. can you swallow

fumes so my lungs can
air out? i pause, you have al-
ready pulled the strings

                                                              away.

17/30 4.17.11 - I will keep house in a home never built (late night draft)

I’m so lovesick 
that I have no original 
lines pumping through me. 

I feel as though I will 
die with this burden 
held below my chin. 

All I want to do is tape love 
letters to your front door 
and make everyone you 
love fall in love with me. 

Would you then reciprocate? 

I play house in the arms 
of another, waiting for you 
to knock on the front door 
with a bottle of milk and promises 
strong enough to knock out any
decaying secrets. 

I know I might become 
a desperate housewife, but keeping 
you underneath my pen 
will make me a millionaire. 

Love stories about 
the one who got away 
always become bestsellers, 
but I’ll always be bitter 
that you sold me out. 

It was love versus tradition. 
I would have written it differently.

18/30 4.18.11 - El deseo de los cuentos de hadas

Todavía te quiero 
debajo de mi lengua. 

¿Podemos actuar 
la segunda
parte de cuentos 
de hadas?

Creo que podría 
ser la manzana 
el príncipe se comió 
a unirse a su princesa.

¿Puedo quedarme 
con usted cuando 
el flujo de los jugos?

19/30 4.19.11 - Denial

Old patterns tell us nothing
more than what we possibly
desire. I burned our old
letters in defiance.

20/30 4.20.11 - Courir à toute allure

Je t'aime plus 
que les battementsde 
coeur rapides 
dans mapoitrine. 

Il me tue quand 
vos yeux d'accélérer 
le rythme.

21/30 4.21.11 - Filled

Too much love
lays at the edge
of my pen.

I could write
you a love poem
every moment
you're awake.

22/30 4.22.11 - Journey

greatness can only
chase you so far. don't give its
fears road blocks. just go.

23/30 4.23.11 - Cocina

24/30 4.24.11 - Buried, Not Saved*

Golden Child, dearest love: 

You're the white 
sands of the islands. 

I bury my toes, 
break your perfection 
with my imprint. 

You brush me away.


* Entered into a random contest for Gotham Writers.

25/30 4.25.11 - Lessons with Alice (Haiga)

Yesterday, I decided to have some fun for my poem of the day. Blackberry is running on haiku contest and the prize is their new Blackberry PlayBook, which is about to come out. You can post about ten haiku via Twitter. I did about seven. It felt liberating to have some real fun AND not be worried about producing something grand. 

Today is "Poem In Your Pocket" Day. I wanted to share the poem I'm carrying with me. It's by my favorite poet, e.e. cummings:

i carry your heart with me

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart) 

- ee cummings

I wish
             I had a choice.

Blood lines 
     consisting of DNA
strands that I can 
           pick and choose;

a grab bag of

• consistent love
  
• infinite respect
  
• understanding

    mixed into a few beings
who would never let me
                                             down.
I wish
             I had a choice.

Not relations thrown
                          in my face,
expectations
hypocrisy or
the solitude
                                         of being
                                                the functioning
                                                       normal
                                                       sane one...
just a 

• normal
  
• loving
  
• understanding

                                          family
                                                                to belong in.

it's time to leave
your falsehoods in a glass
coffin. nothing thrills me
more than seeing the
decomposition
of a past gone bad.
spoiled dreams taste 
sweet.