Wordle #116

Week 116

A string of staccato vowels,
a coterie of fireworks, a protean waltz
churning beneath my left breast pocket
like so many precipitous waves.
I wilt under observation,
there are too many eyes
in this room and I cannot
answer them without forgetting myself.

I am a dummy, a trampled wallflower
peeling my spine-prim as a starched collar-
from the shell of a walnut.
I would do anything
to avoid the strop, the proboscis,
the razor-tongued princesses
deadening in their conceit.

I am a well no deeper than a thimble
what I lack cannot be embellished,
what I possess is scarcely worth mimicry.
The stars lie down for me,
they beget me, how can I go on
wasting chance after chance
in the preservation of illusion?


Do You Know Her?


Is she thinner than me?

Is her hair thicker?

Is it real or did a porcupine

Infiltrate her scalp?

Perhaps the implements

Of an ongoing lobotomy?

Are her breasts more ceremoniously perched?

Are they too large or too small?

I can’t tell the difference.

Would she be prettier without glasses?

Or does the magnification conceal

The decompression of those lunar orbs?

She is only partially dressed, the bed has held her

Holds her still, shes makes love to the air

A flagrantly gesticulating squirrel

To whom does she speak in those tarnished whispers?

What specter does she nurse in her white hands

That they should twist in such ungodly fashion?

What book arrogates her spine?

Does she know?

Does she know?

Does she now?


She speaks as one who does not exist

About improbabilities and the defects

That she does not wish to make known

Her references are vague like the location

Of graves laid in refurbished parcels of land

She speaks the unnamed taboo

Red threads shoot from her fingers like sparks

She’ll force you into revelation and then place you

Like communion against her existential palate

She’ll love you even when there’s nothing left

And there never is anything left once she’s buried you.


She does not accept lies, even polite ones

The only games she knows are those she plays

With herself when milking the windows for scenery

If you touch her will she vanish?

Will you marry her for the gist?

Her face is naked, it speaks too much

Can you listen with your tongue

Or does your heart still insist?

You will never understand her

In a way that consolidates reason

Do you know her?

Do you know her?

Do you know her?


This picture is part of my Planescape Torment photo series. I wanted to do a visual representation of all the factions but I have only done 2 so far. This was my Sensate photo.

This is what they actually look like the descriptor says Harlot but the Sensates honestly dress the same. I don’t have such an outfit in my wardrobe and even if I did I wouldn’t post photos of me wearing it online so I had to improvise! I didn’t bother trying to emulate the animated girls impressive/exaggerated physique that’s a battle I couldn’t win lol. I just tried to embody the playful vivacious spirit of the faction. Sensate was a hard one for me as I am far from outgoing. The poem has nothing to with Sensates I just didn’t have another picture of myself that hasn’t been used somewhere. This is an exercise I got from a book, writing about yourself as though you were an observer. I tried to use feedback/comments I have received over the years to help me construct it. I poked a little fun of myself as well. I have body dysmorphia hence the opening where I am preoccupied with size. This image doesn’t suit the poem as it does not reflect me very well, even if it is me being silly but you can probably see why people notice my hair and why Sam calls me a squirrel. Speaking of hair it is in a ponytail but it is quite heavy and well blobbish so I just couldn’t achieve that cute high ponytail look.


Wordle #3 Illusory


I carry your slouching sonnets

Inside my winsome capillaries

A carnival of contusions and dilations

An exhaustive obituary read

Cautiously over breakfast

As if the print were itself contagious

And given the lucidity of your influence

I might very well follow you


My larvate heart ejaculates in silk

Meanwhile the sun flickers piecemeal

Through an intervening storm

It’s not over, I still have books to write

And there’s still the city which

I refer to only in euphemism

I can’t begin to tell you all the ways

She has betrayed me

I exist within her now

A latent birth


For all the probing and tugging

You think I would have materialized

But I am as evasive as I ever was

I won’t wait up for you long

Lest your ghost overcome me

Angels of the Prosaic

Buddhist Temple's Bird Cage, 1940 Gelatin silver printKansuke Yamamoto

My heart whittles away all intermediary

None who enter shall ever replicate her song

In the absence of data there is always instinct

That I exist is the only catalyst essential to expression


I dream of brush-fires and lightening

Of incidentals and incendiaries

I am intolerant of dysfunction

When it overtakes my composition

To be an alien in the the desert

Is exceptional only in the clarity

Of a well-articulated obligation

Better to be the only Venusian

In a fountain of supple dreams


All these delusions

These unsolicited truths

Shed on gestation

They are mine to gather

Who else exists that can

Define precisely their shape?


I exist in the minutiae

In the dalliances

Of stones and silhouettes

The muse’s pock-marked face

Composed in odyssey

I am not afraid of demons

Only of men who speak falsely


Were I without hope

I’d cease scavenging

Were I without gratitude

My pen would halt

Its recursive sonnet


I am an optimist canvassing

Hell for a paradise lost

A misfit who sees angels

In the veils of the prosaic


My non appointment appointment took an unexpectedly long time. Though there was a scheduling error and they sent me home as soon as I arrived I spent a weird amount of time trying to get home again. I didn’t have much time to write and I now have the pressure of knowing the appointment isn’t even over yet!


orcrypt3Tomorrow I have an appointment with yet another therapist. I find it difficult to write poetry when I am stressed in this way. I can’t very well speak in metaphor during my appointment so I need to get my brain in conversational mode. That is why I have decided to tackle the alternative prompt and discuss my experience with the internet.


As many of you already know I met Sam online. We lived 8000 miles apart, in areas not heavily frequented by tourists. The odds of us meeting without the internet were even slimmer than the nearly improbable circumstances that brought us together in the first place. For that reasons alone I am grateful for technology.


I didn’t have a personal computer until 1999 but I remember when computers were introduced to our school library I suppose we had computers before for typing but I mean computers with internet capabilities. Until then all my research was done using the card catalog. We actually had to scour books for information! Old school research is I imagine something like archeology extremely tedious despite interest (well occasional interest not all research papers are fun). I had a Nintendo and my mom’s old Tandy. I wasn’t exactly cutting edge. My interest escalated when my friend got connected. She was able to talk to people from other parts of the world. More importantly Sweden. I had quite an acute interest in Sweden. I was saving up for money to visit convinced that my soul mate resided there (I was right).


What was my life like before the internet?

High school started out pretty well for me actually. Middle school had been unexpectedly dramatic when I became oddly involved with the most popular boy in school. I was ready to leave that life behind. During the summer I had lost weight and updated my wardrobe (for the weight loss). I was practicing yoga daily and I felt happier and a little more confident than I had ever felt in any of my previous incarnations. You are absolutely mistaken if you think that my improved appearance was in any way a sign that I wanted to become popular. I had my one friend which was all I needed. I didn’t want to date the aforementioned popular boy had put me off romance. Unfortunately the fact that I was the prettiest I had ever been and ever would be was not much of a deterrent to would be suitors. I turned them all down. All I wanted to do was play My Little Ponies lol Seriously my friend and I got together after school and played like little kids. Parties? Drinking? Boyfriends? Pfft. Some time in the 9th grade I discovered Sylvia Plath and I started to read voraciously, a little later I discovered Arthur Rimbaud and I started to write.


When I lost my only friend I became depressed, suicidally depressed. I had always spent all my time at home in my room (even with her we rarely left the house). I even ate meals in my room. Even being happier didn’t make me normally sociable. I talked to the pictures on my wall, I exercised, I rearranged the house regularly, I wrote, I read. That was my life. I can’t imagine that I would go out and seek human interaction if I didn’t have a computer. Truth is I never sought human interaction all that much. People are at times drawn to me but finding people who share an abiding connection is not easy. Online the freaks are out in full force lol I actually mean that in a good way. I started sharing my poetry which had been private outside of school assignments. I believe my writing has grown as a result of increased discipline and exposure. Skype allows me to see and talk with my mom who now lives 8000 miles away. The internet hasn’t been all bad. I don’t think I would be able to produce a book without it!


The internet hasn’t been all good either. I have an avoidant personality and an obsessive one besides. That I have to wrestle with computer addiction shouldn’t be a surprise. I really could stay online all day and have done so. I have had periods where I am so consumed with writing (that is mostly what I do) that I have forgotten to eat, sleep, shower. When I used to chat (on groups for the mentally ill) I neglected my life and marriage. I no longer chat in real time. Even online I suppose I am slightly on the anti-social side but it helps me to stay a little more balanced. Getting caught in a fantasy or alternative world is very easy when you are severely Depressed and desperate for an exit from the pain this is you. I think many of use spend more than 2 hours online myself included. Yesterday Sam, Isadora, and I played Go Fish with actual cards. That’s important. Actual should comprise more of your life than virtual (call me old-fashioned and a hypocrite because I haven’t gotten there yet). The movie Wall-E is hauntingly prophetic.


fortressBetween metal planes

My savage heart wallows

I exhale and compress


Oblate and isolated

This is what it means

To wear armor


There is no freedom

In chain links

Only dissuasion

There is no freedom

In voyeurism

In impotent dreams

That rely on conditionals


If is exponential

Wait too long

And you too shall pass



Moths know the rapture

Of which I speak

The fixation

On an unattainable aesthete

She was above penance,

An insatiable tease

I fell upon her edicts,

Servile, naive


I understood


It did not offend me

I wanted to expand

My isolating margins

To belong,

Even at the risk

Of acquiring a new self

I did not want

To become cruel

To become consumptive

In a defenseless rage

I avoided confrontation

By asserting humanity

In those hearts

Most craven

Good surely exists

The default

In us all


She coerced me into attendance

I took great pains

In preparation for the dance

Ecstatic and delusional

I miscalculated her savagery

A coven of histrionic harpies

Subdued me

My deepest insecurities

Slipping from greasy lips

Once presumed


I understood humiliation

That night

It defined me


I hid in my room

Under the guise of illness

My mother was indulgent

But she was not deceived


It occurred to me

That my nemesis

Was just a little girl

Same as I

A hurting, vicious little girl

The external component

Of my internal war

I returned to school

Sat beside her as before

My life was not hers

To lead,

I moved forward

And lost track of her



When I was in 4th grade I was being bullied by a girl in my class. The bullying didn’t bother me that much because as you know my social skills are very poor so I was incapable of fully understanding the situation. I knew she wasn’t nice but I saw no reason to be mean to her and in truth I was intrigued by her because she was my opposite in so many ways. When the school dance came around she invited me and I went. I brought another friend and we dressed up. I thought I looked quite nice and I was very excited (I was hoping a boy would ask me to dance). As soon as I arrived I was swarmed by a group of girls (she was the ring leader) and they started making fun of me. That was the first time she really hurt me, all the other petty stuff hadn’t bothered me too much. I stayed out of school for several days and my mom didn’t have the heart to force me because she saw how hurt I was. After my realization I felt much better. I went to school and when she realized she couldn’t get to me she left me alone or she didn’t but if she didn’t I didn’t notice anymore. After that if people teased me we would just end up joking and on friendly terms. I found out that I am actually pretty good at disarming people.

Okay now for different part of today’s post

My Advice: Don’t let another person define you

My solution/suggestion: This is not comprehensive and it is naive keep in mind I spend 95% of my time in my own world lol

Every school should have mandatory classes on communication and conflict resolution. In college my major required me to take such a course and it was absolutely invaluable, probably the most relevant course I have ever taken. Communication is essential in all areas of life, listening is part of communication, learning to express your feelings in a healthy way is part of communication.

There are two types of people (generally) those who internalize their feelings and turn their negative emotions inward and those who externalize their feelings and lash out at others. Both types can have difficulty expressing themselves in a healthy manner. All human beings have a fundamental need to express themselves. Children especially can lack the ability to communicate complex feelings. I have a  5 year old daughter and I have found that just punishing her does not work. When she acts out it is often a result of stress or emotional struggles. While it takes time talking to her and asking her questions and giving her an opportunity to vent works wonders. After a good talk her behavior improves dramatically and she isn’t just behaving for fear of punishment, she is behaving because she feels good inside. There is a huge difference!!!!!! There are times when punishment is necessary of course but punishment without conversation is ineffective. Positive reinforcement is much more effective than punishment. Rarely do we acknowledge our children’s good behaviors both teachers and parents should be more mindful in that respect.

Speaking of outlets physical exercise is a healthy way of dealing with stress (PE should be fun and safe not violent and competitive the way I recall it). I also think art classes and creative writing are great ways for kids to express themselves. We need to talk more to our kids and if teachers to our students. All to often we get in this mind frame I am the adult what you have to say is not as important. We often think of children as fickle and so we think their feelings aren’t real. Their feelings are REAL and IMPORTANT!

Kids caught bullying should have to spend time with the school counselor I don’t mean just for a few minutes but for a couple of sessions. If at that time the counselor decides additional therapy is necessary the school needs to help with the arrangements or have a psychologist on staff to help children who may not have the financial resources for outside counseling. If during the counseling session abuse is suspected then the parents of the child need to be evaluated.

Teachers caught bullying and discriminating against a students based on race, sexuality, athletic prowess, academic performance, religion etc. should also have to undergo counseling and they should be punished. If the problem persists they need to be fired because it is completely unacceptable (depending on severity and if there was physical assault involved they may need to be fired right away). Likewise teachers who tolerate or encourage bullying in their classrooms should have to undergo counseling. Teachers will also be required to have communication courses and attend workshops.

Bullying should NOT be ignored and it should be talked about!

Well that is just some of my ideas on the subject.




My inept tongue nests

Inside a shallow windpipe

Spurning all but script


I adjust my smile

Three times before withdrawing

My heart completely


Starless truths gather

Like magpies in the cartridge

Of a trusted pen

Excising dead flesh

I burgeon pink and fertile

From a would be grave


I really couldn’t write today I was much too distracted and nervous. I had an appointment with a counselor. I was dreading it but in the end the woman was very nice. I feel embarrassed now after the fact. Did I make myself look healthier than I am? I tend to gloss over my problems when I get nervous. I also laugh when I get nervous. Did I come off as whiny? Or cruel? I told her I wasn’t happy with my Neurologist and I feel very bad about that now.  Ugh…guilt. I did manage to tell her about my social anxiety, memory problems, and desire for more independence maybe even taking on part-time manual labor sort of job something strait-forward and not to people intense. I didn’t mention my past in a way I want to talk about it because I feel it is affecting me and I think it will be helpful in drawing a more complete picture. I don’t want to spend session after session on my past though, I want to focus on concrete future goals, but I think it is necessary because it was unhealthy.

Also I submitted this to Carbon Noise Poetry


Eat Sleep Breathe


The smell of rain

Precedes you

To own my persuasion

Would be to shelter defeat

I cannot abide you

Knowing the pulse

That stirs your heart

Pauses for no one


Password protected,

My smile, undulates

Every time you enter

The room

Please don’t perceive me

Haunting you

Leave me

To these

Illicit impressions

My lips against

Your possibility





Always impoverish

My advance

Without you

I lose the will

To surface

Each morning


My avoidant frown


Amputates conversation

I won’t let you in

And as long as the sun

Goes on rising

I’ll carry you


On tip of my tongue


But never



My poem Apostate was published here