25/01/09
Another Snowfall
The world burrows its arms in my flesh
and another snowfall makes its home—
in the deepest whites of my eyes they mesh,
the ice and the glass, the dead earth combed.
Stems, twigs, white wooden men stand
and another root, stiff, ruptures in frost—
a red moon lifts in purple skies, as planned,
but the old sun perishes, thus far: dusk.
The eye sheds its white, piercing skin
and another finger atrophied and potted—
in jars, in vinegar, my eyes shut from within.
I sleep alone—waiting for the world to rot.
we went to manhattan yesterday and met judy and avi and yahli. time square; carmine's. amazing food. enormous dishes. we took the unfinished business home.
in toys-r-us
we saw a bunch of blood in bryant park, near the ice skating rink. some guy fell off a construction thing. another guy was hurt on top of it. who knows. lots of police. lots of firemen. we were not allowed to take picture, but, you know, the rascal that i am... i just couldn't resist.
the snow is melting. i hope it will snow soon.
i have midterms this week. i am so frightened.
obama. i love you.
and nothing really changed. nothing really new.
i downloaded a bunch of beach boys songs last night. it makes me miss california so much.
i miss california--the beach, the sun, the heat. the feeling. i miss it, not in a "i want to live there again" kind of way, but in a "i liked it and i want to visit it". maybe i do want to live there, one day.
on the east coast, i feel, people see the west coast as an exotic, wild place. that's what i felt in november, in sd. the palm trees, the smoggy nights, the hills, the beach, the sun. it's all different.
label me:
broders,
california,
food,
i love san diego,
manhattan,
melancholy,
miss,
poem
2 loving replies:
I don't know anyone who can eat everything at Carmine's. The kids you have pictures of here are adorable.:)
Other comments I have as I read your posts are how sad you seem to be. I have to tell you that most writers feel like you do. We think differently. We walk around with all of what you've written here in our heads while other people are thinking dull things like the colors and sounds around them. We think in images and assign metaphors without realizing. It can set you apart, yet you have a gift. Have you sent out any of your poetry? It has movement and emotion. Are you part of any writing groups? I always get stuff for kids your age. Let me know.
Nice meeting you. Go check out my blog. I'm here on blogger too.
http://apps.facebook.com/blognetworks/blog/barbaras_meanderings/
Barbara (from facebook)
The whole URL didn't print. Here it is:
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