Category Archives: writing

we are vampires

I drain your thoughts away,
and then there are the glances and that subtle
flutter when you approach.

We crawl the night thirsty.

Desire between the damned is
my need to hurt you,
bite scratch claw you bloody.
And your need to lash out
those few nihilistic times we speak.

We know nothing of the other beyond these walls.

But then
in the haze of smoke that hangs down from the ceiling
like electrical wires
and loose panels under construction,
in the only light of green beer bottles and neon signs,
and empty sticky shot cups,
and those not amused by life anymore,
and the ragged dying breath of slow drunken dances,
and good girls sliding down poles,
and bad girls hiding in the bathroom,
and big muscled men and shaved heads singing Godsmack,
in the last hour,

When our eyes have adjusted,
you kiss me goodbye.

Panic before the world turns bright.
The frantic cramping fear that we have wasted it all.

We are thirsty gluttons for punishment.

the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina (as written in my journal)

Not sure why I thought to look up my journal entry around the time of Katrina, but I did (maybe it’s all the reading about the BP oil disaster). And it brought back the fear and the horror and well, I thought maybe it was good if we all took a moment to remember. Tragedy, with time, is very easy to forget for those not involved. Sounds preachy, but true…

journal entry 9/1/05 12:58am

“tonight rumors
that I had lost my job
that gas stations were closed
that bodies were still
swimming in the sewage
overtaking New Orleans….
one of these is
true.”

“this is for sure an unbelievable time the unthinkable is happening – it was really only a matter of time. Katrina– cause of the flooding of a city that always meant good times always meant debauchery, laughter, the lazy life, laid back Southern style. now the streets just sewers of debris and bodies. people are dying. people are losing all sense of right and wrong. that breakdown of society that ID that can no longer be contained and the rest of us… helpless? watching mouths open. we sleep and wake to see more bad news and that gas will hit $4. only a matter of time.

we are so fortunate. so now when it is quiet we can say a silent prayer for the Gulf Coast and a secret sigh of relief that it wasn’t us. blink it could all be gone. right now, is there any other way of thinking? nah. and now i should sleep and get ready for the morning….”

the re-reading of The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

wrote a rough rough sketch of this several years ago, just after college i guess. revised slightly here today. here’s a link to the poem, one of my all-time favorites: http://www.bartleby.com/198/1.html

the re-reading of The Love Song of J Alfred Prufrock

the silence after
roars like a night train
it shakes the house so
that Eliot and I
curled in our green tea
must turn twice, and again

i sense your
presence absent
who to guess that nothing
could be so heavy to move
the weight of all that air
blowing precarious

to and fro, to and fro

alone with time to think

slight respite
from a day wrought
with surprise, I
believe this silence
punctuated with breaths
this alone on the floor
time to think is
an exceptional rarity
to be cherished
held carefully in quiet
long hands
with tiny spots of age.

[biographical note: I have just, in the space of one week’s time, found and moved into a new place, received news of my sister’s engagement, been offered multiple jobs, and been told the date of my half-sister’s wedding. I also eagerly await news of my cousin’s new baby and am dealing with the realization that I will be 30 this month… among other things! This follows 4 months of relatively static stale nothing after my life fell spectacularly apart in Jan. As you can imagine this quiet time is welcome today!]