For *those that have just lost their keys *those that are well-versed *inebriated ones *wanderers *mermaids *those that belong elsewhere *whippersnappers *marvelous ones *those that are not included in this classification *those that flutter because the moment is fleeting *boundless ones *those colored with slippery fingerpaint *others *those that resemble someone I know from a distance

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Who knew?

Apparently I buy cars carelessly. And listen to hip-hop.


Sunday, November 27, 2005

That's lovely.

"You will come down soon, too"

Dancing makes everything better.


Saturday, November 26, 2005

"You are worth more than many sparrows"

Even though I mostly disagree with the sentiment, any sentence that has sparrows in it is better than a sentence without sparrows. Sparrows, sparrows, sparrows.


Tuesday, November 22, 2005

You never smelled of honeysuckles.


Monday, November 21, 2005


Somewhere between the boring-job-wave-of-apathy and the boring-job-wave-of-despair, Mondays are redeemed when I realize there are new secrets.


Saturday, November 12, 2005

2nd most drunken poem ever

Actually, it is probably the third. There is that one I don't think about, scrawled on cloud paper, full of whispers, that fell into the mysterious space between the bed and the wall, which I never retrieved. Pretending I don't see it on those rare occasions when I remove the socks and the novels and the cds from under my bed. So, third most drunken poem ever. This morning I removed the lines in which I compared love to a slutty, insecure unicorn. Yeah, drunken poetry is uber-fabulous.

I am not drunk-dialing you
even though I am eating left-over Chinese food
plucking bamboo shoots off my breasts
and counting the roaches in my kitchen
even though the night is short, I will not call you
I don’t understand why I am letting you go
Whatever, I’m calling you right now
I want to hear your belief in me
I wait, body heavy, toes numb
imagining the cat toy is a subatomic particle
imagining I am filled with light

When we are older, I will rest you in a basket and set you out to sea
I don’t want you to be a dream from which I will awake

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