POETRY FOR A HOSTILE WORLD

Sharon Olds

2007-03-25T10:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday Matthew and I went to a Sharon Olds reading in Reston, VA. It was a great reading. It was wonderful to finally hear her read her poems out loud. I actually got to meet her and have her sign my books afterwards too.

And, I'm 10 weeks pregnant. Just thought that needed to be put on here. If anyone wants to see our first sonogram of the baby it's up at family.lilius.com

The sonogram is from 8 1/2 weeks. I'm due October 21st.

That's it for now. Off for a nap!

Chapbook Publication!

2007-02-05T20:43:00.000-08:00

I'm happy to report that I have a chapbook coming out along with my dear friend Erin Bertram. It's a chapbook of our exquisite corpses. It's going to be published by NeO Pepper Press! We're very excited and can't wait until it comes out. Probably sometime this year. Here's a link to their website:

http://www.tashogi.com/neopp.htm

Hope everyone that reads this is doing good.

Sarah L.

New Poem In Awhile

2007-01-17T10:44:00.000-08:00

Well, I haven't been blogging much and I haven't been writing much either. But today I will break that mold of both blogging and writing.

First off, head over to this website: http://www.h-ngm-n.com/combatives/
My friend, Erin Bertram, and I now have our exquisite corpses featured in Combatives, an offshoot of H_NGM_N, the online journal. Sorry that I don't know how to put fancy links into my blog, you'll have to cut and paste. But anyway, the issue is on sale for $2. Dad, you don't have to buy one. I can mail you one when I get them.

Monday I start my second term of grad school and I think I'm ready. Classes I have: Poetry Workshop, Characters and Characterization, and Contemporary Legend (Folklore). Should be an interesting mix.

Well, here's the new poem. Let me know what everyone thinks. Thanks.

Caught

I.

A fly is caught between
the screen and the glass
of a cold window.

II.

A boy on a bicycle
is hit by the car
of the world. He is caught
between tire and concrete.

III.

A picture from CNN.com
shows people walking by
blood pooled in the streets
of Baghdad.

IV.

Bush is sending more troops
to slaughter and to be
slaughtered. Will this war
ever end?

V.

A loaded gun, dirty from dust.
A soldier crying in secret
because his comrade is dead—
car bomb again.

VI.

I open the window
and release the fly.
It clings to the screen
as child to mother.

First term finished tomorrow

2006-12-13T15:13:00.000-08:00

I am officially done with my first term of grad school tomorrow night after my last class. I finished a 15 page paper on Whitman and "Calamus" today as well as finished reading Moby Dick. I can't wait to go home and see all my family and friends. Sorry no poetry at the moment. I've been too busy with papers to write. But, hopefully over break I'll be able to get some writing done. I have a whole month off!

Cheers,
Sarah

New Poem Today

2006-11-14T12:04:00.000-08:00

Here's a new poem that I wrote today. It was for an assignment for my Forms of Poetry class. We were supposed to write an Imagist poem.

Here goes:

Dream Last Night

Up wooden stairs laced
with snails and caterpillars,
I with my heavy feet
climb.

Soon the water rushes in
like so many oceans and
there is seaweed in my hair.

I find a man there,
slight and pickled skin,
I am fearful of him as
he watches me undress.

Soon I’m naked and
it’s a cold night. My skin
pale and shrinking.

There are cats and
and the moon just a sliver
in immediate darkness.
I shiver and walk away.

Mountains

2006-11-05T16:49:00.000-08:00

Hello everyone,

Per request of the wonderful Erin B., I'm posting to my blog. It's been a good month since I made a post.

Today Matthew (my husband) and I visited Shenandoah National Park, a national park that I believe is in the Blue Ridge Mountains. It was Matthew's idea and I was glad that he had the inkling. Nature is very inspiring to me. It seems to balance me out.

I have a lot of homework to do. I'm reading Moby Dick, The Namesake by Jhumpa Lahiri, "The Overcoat" by Gogol, Whitman criticism, and Satanic Verses/Rushdie criticism. I have 2 papers to do, both about 15 pages. It's not fun. Grad school has turned out to be quite the challenge. But I am happy to report that I received an A on a Whitman presentation that I did. That was a wonderful surprise because I wasn't sure how I did.

I don't have any really recent poems to put up. Well, I do have one that was supposed to be an elegy that I was to turn in to class but I ended up turning in a different one. Let me know how this poem could be fixed as I feel it has many flaws. Thanks. Sarah L.

Chimera

Your death taught me many things.
Don’t take it all for granted and love
those you love with fervor and grace.

A woman’s laughter rose above the crowd,
she is the chimera inside the holiest of buildings.

She jumped the gun, missed the bullet.
Small, she was there merely, and I know

that death will bring me to you
but I keep on day to day.

A woman with wings should be an angel
but not this woman, see her eyes glare red.

See her lion head, her goat body, her serpent
tail. I know I’m not imagining this. She rises.

Your death taught me many things.
I watch for you in dreams and you come
in all your dead glory, floating and laughing.

Some would ask Jesus or God for help
with the pain but I’d rather not.

A man’s voice distinct and rich rose above
the crowd, he is the myriad of what I’ve been

waiting for. I stroke it real. I wait it out.
I find you in the strangest of places,
Buddha statue, incense smoke, coffee cup.

Birthday

2006-10-05T12:17:00.000-07:00

Well, today's my birthday. I'm officially 30 and feeling a bit older. I'm ambivalent about the whole thing.
That's all for now.
Hope everyone is doing good.
Sarah

Poetry Reading

2006-10-01T17:25:00.002-07:00

The reading today went well. I didn’t feel too nervous and read well, at least Matthew thought so. I didn’t win any prizes and there were three. One of the poems that won I didn’t like but the other 2 were okay. A woman came up to me and said that my poem made her cry and she thought that it should have won. That made me feel good inside. That I touched someone that much. Matthew got teary eyed as well. One of the judges (there were 3) told me she really liked my poem and was rooting for it. I guess that it was hard for them to make the decision. There were 2 other GMU students in the contest, Kamau (another 1st year like me) and another guy who is 3rd year.

I got a new computer! It's an iMac desktop computer and I love it. My laptop was getting old, about 3 1/2 years old now so Matthew said I should upgrade. My computer is now faster than his! I still own the laptop though and do not plan on getting rid of it. It has sentimental value for me as it was a graduation gift from Matthew when I graduated Augustana. Anyway.

So here's the poem:

At the Holiday Inn

The room was crooked, somehow not a rectangle.
The bed seemed a wedge in space to small.
There was a chair my mother sat in, then my father.
We watched some cartoon on the TV.
We waited for my husband as he made arrangements
with the dead body. I sat on the bed after a bath
with matted hair. I made like I was okay.
But after the parents left we rocked hard
against black silence and the white ceiling,
misshapen, crushed us.
Some heavy burden, some guilt-like presence pushed
us to sleep.
I woke with wet pillow and hair so tangled,
I didn’t care.
It was Sunday. Our strength gone,
the insignificance of death in relation to it all
sinks in as children yelled in the halls—you see,
it was Sunday morning
and they were free.

Carl Phillips

2006-09-29T18:53:00.000-07:00

Saw Carl Phillips read tonight at school. It was great.

Also, I'm one of ten finalists in a contest for a Arlington library. I read my poem, "At the Holiday Inn" on Sunday, so wish me luck. I'm nervous but I'm sure it'll be fine.

I'll post the poem later.

Ciao,
Sarah

Swamped

2006-09-19T13:24:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,

I've been swamped with homework. Graduate school is all about reading, giving presentations and writing papers apparently. It's much harder than my undergraduate days. But, I'm hanging in there. Right now I'm reading Small Island by Andrea Levy. A very good book about people from Jamaica who immigrate to England. There's more to it than that of coarse but that's the main idea.

Here's a new poem that hasn't been edited yet. Not sure where I'm going with this one but it's for Erin, you know who you are. Tell me what you do and don't like about it. Cheers. Sarah L.

Poem For A Friend

~For Erin

The clouds weave about the sky today.
An autumn wonder is 80 degrees
yet here in Virginia we find such a day.
I think of you miles away and realize
how days can stretch and I wonder at time.
I miss you friend. I wonder at birds
crossing your path and chicken legs
falling from the sky. This is absurd
but true. We work with line breaks
and I count syllables only to realize
this doesn’t make me a better poet.
And coffee only makes me think
of you, intent and leaning on a dirty
table at Denny’s. And here when the café
closes, we leave.

Seven Syllable Poem

2006-09-12T12:35:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone!

I haven't made a post in awhile because I've been busy with school. I have a class called Form of Poetry where we write form poetry. Here's a poem that's seven syllables to each line, even the title is seven syllables:

How The Dead Roll In Their Graves

A cemetery basked
in early morning light stands
alone and eager for the
day to begin. The dead clutch
to their caskets. And I walk
this dirt path in search of the
one tombstone to open my
mind. I will rub my skin on
the cold stone, feel the raw
inscription begging to be
read. The dead roll carefully.

Writing form poetry is harder than it seems. I've also written a poem in iambic pentameter which I might post later.
Enjoy! And please post comments, they are welcomed.

Sarah

New Publication!

2006-08-22T13:19:00.000-07:00

I just found out last night that my poem "America Takes a Seat" was selected for a political issue of Court Green. Court Green is put out there by the people at Columbia College in Chicago.

New Poem

2006-08-07T16:29:00.000-07:00

Here's a new poem. Comments welcomed.

Rock Island House

I dreamt of a great flood,
on the way to your old house,
the one in Rock Island.
Water was replacing
everything: the brick road,
gone. The floorboards inside,
gone. I wandered around
looking for you, water to my
knees. Not even a ghost of you
remained.

Horrible things floated:
doll head, dead cat, carving
knife. I smelled the smell
of death and wanted to leave.
But I could not leave,
something held me to the house.
Some circular force, some ghost.

Then I heard your voice
coming from the dining room
and there you laid on the table,
naked and crying.
You said, today is the day,
tonight will be the night.
Take down the door and run.
I reached for you and your skin
turned green and suddenly
you were gone. I opened
the back door to a field
of lavender and I ran.

I'm Back!

2006-07-25T12:36:00.000-07:00

Hello everyone,

I haven't posted in awhile. I've been busy moving to DC, entertaining guests, and nursing a dislocated knee. All is better now and I'm back. I've written a few new poems which I will post here. Any comments are welcome. Thank you.

Listening to Helfgott

I.

The piano starts and I know this is some
form of God through instrument.

Could it be that the piano is something
not to be mastered but tackled, buckled
down and wrestled to the dirty ground?

Helfgott keeps it up. Inspiration
is the movie Shine. His breakdown,
his love, the way he plays like honey,
like a Sunday.

II.

Today I read Plath’s biography.
I’m at the part where she becomes
depressed in college. Like everyone,
I’m waiting for the part where she
opens the oven and doesn’t look back.

I teeter between anxiety of society
and society’s anxiety.

III.

Somewhere in Fairfax, Virginia
a poet is sleeping past noon.

A mother feeds her child not realizing
this food is more than food but an
instrument of love, an extension
of self, a reason to live.

IV.

Now meditating becomes easy,
the rooms have grown smaller
and the apartment is not a house
to crawl through.

The cats rise to the moon and pounce
about in the night. The poet awakens.
There is nothing that cannot be said,
there is nothing that cannot be healed.

---------------------------------

Letter To My Mother

Mother,
I’m here without you.
Someone has cut the cord,
now bloody, it hangs somewhere
between Illinois and DC.

And the shootings here
would never happen at home,
you would worry.
You should worry.

I stay away from the city
at night, I think of you there
miles away with your hands
delicately wrung around a book
or clutching some rag.

Father grows old, we both know
that maybe he’s just hanging on.
You say he’s losing weight
and you’re worried.
You should worry.

Mother,
I’m writing my opus.
I’m loving it all.

And my apartment is a coffin
I refuse to die within.
We call it home but it’s nothing
compared to the big blue house
on a hill surrounded by foliage
and strange love.

I remember your last grasp
around my body. You held on
as if I would float away.

Mother,
I’m floating.

----------------------

I hope everyone is doing good and having a great summer.

Sarah

Stanley Kunitz dies at 100

2006-05-15T11:06:00.000-07:00

Former poet laureate Stanley Kunitz is dead. I once did a report on him and even wrote him a letter to which he never responded. But I still like his poetry. I'm sure he will be missed by the poetry world. Here is a link to an article about him:

http://msnbc.msn.com/id/12801949/

Here is a poem:

The Portrait by Stanley Kunitz

My mother never forgave my father
for killing himself,
especially at such an awkward time
and in a public park,
that spring
when I was waiting to be born.
She locked his name
in her deepest cabinet
and would not let him out,
though I could hear him thumping.
When I came down from the attic
with the pastel portrait in my hand
of a long-lipped stranger
with a brave moustache
and deep brown level eyes,
she ripped it into shreds
without a single word
and slapped me hard.
In my sixty-fourth year
I can feel my cheek
still burning.

Apartment

2006-05-08T14:02:00.000-07:00

Well, we finally found an apartment! It's in Fairfax, VA about 1 mile from the school (GMU). I'm very excited because it seemed like it was taking forever to find one. There's a pool and a workout room and storage space.

Well, that's about it for now.

Hope everyone who reads this is doing good.

New Poem

2006-05-04T19:14:00.000-07:00

Here's a new, rough poem that I'm working on.

HI DAD!!

Here's the poem:

Reeling in DC

We were the dead
and the living had come to size us up.
~Spencer Reece

Let the fever play out
the madness of a fever’s
kaleidoscope. I think that
summer is here. I’m in DC.
Today it reached 82 degrees.

I was carded when I bought
Brokeback Mountain. Only
in the Midwest, at a Wal-mart.
I realized that queer theory
was right. And this movie
is a step forward, not back.
So I pull out my card and smile.

All the suits walking down
Crystal Drive ignore me as
I push on. The hired help says
hello. I push on down the block.

The woman with her floppy breasts
walks crooked. I write poetry
virtually across her face.

In the apartment there are children
playing hide and seek with their
father. I hide myself, in my room,
a temporary home.

I write out a formula for death
and hand it to the nearest person.
They do not understand.
We, here, are already dead—bathing
in sunlight, cancer taking over
all our cells. When the living come
down as angels you will not know it.

New Short Poem

2006-05-02T11:47:00.000-07:00

Here's a new short poem.

They Keep Kneeling

Keep kneeling and stay stuck inside
the original sin. I’m watching
the sky close for comets and falling
planets. I let the night enter my body.
I wait for 9 o’clock to feed me.
When I woke up the next morning
there was a baby on my chest
and a cry in my gut.

Arrived in VA

2006-04-21T17:40:00.000-07:00

Well, Matthew and I left for VA yesterday around 6 am and arrived at 1 in the morning. It was quite a trip. We're staying with Matthew's sister and her family in Arlington, VA. Today we went to Fairfax, VA and looked at two apartments. Both were very nice but might not allow 4 cats (most allow 2). We don't really want to give up the cats. So, we're still looking. We also made a stop at the school (George Mason University) and walked around a bit. I was surprised by how big the campus is. The foliage is nice at the school.

I haven't been writing much lately what with all the packing and getting ready to come to the D.C. area.

Well, that's all for now.

TA Interview

2006-04-08T18:58:00.000-07:00

Well, as for me, I've been studying for a teaching assistantship interview that I have on Tuesday morning. George Mason gave me 3 student essays to comment on. So, between that and packing I've been pretty busy.

I'm at Panera Bread right now and there's a crazy man that is always here when I'm here. He's over in the corner laughing to himself. I wonder what's funny. Hopefully it's not me!

Well, that's all for now. Hope everyone who reads this is good.

Packing

2006-03-29T15:03:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

I've been packing like a maniac with the help of my mum.

Not much else to report.

Don't know exactly when I'm moving. We're going to DC on April 20th to check out apartments and whatnot.

Here's a new poem: (sorry for the arrows.)

Man At A Coffee Shop
>
>
> He takes his coffee black
> as a night without you.
> Shadow in a cup.
>
> He walks with a limp
> that always makes me stare.
>
> He reminds me of stones
> in my mouth.
>
> He always smokes,
> not like a chimney,
> but more like a vacuum
> cleaner with something
> stuck in it. That smell.
>
> He reminds me of Denver.
> Someplace to roll
> around on the ground and be
> blessed by the gods.
>
> He chokes like a priest.
> He plunders like Robin Hood.
> He aches like a rapist.
>
> He reminds me that I’m dying,
> we’re all dying. Falling fast
> into the hands of some dirty,
> tricky god.
>
>

New Poem

2006-03-22T18:04:00.000-08:00

Here's a new poem. Any feedback would be appreciated.

To You

I am lifted.
You carry me
through this life.
I write bad poetry while you
write bad computer programs.

We won’t look back.
We have heaviness in our twin hearts,
please know how we love them all.

And in the café all the people
are eating bread and drinking
their coffee black as crows.

I just want someone, someone like you,
to carry me through the next couple
of years. Fluff me. Keep me yes,
not no. I’m not brave.

If we’re vegetarian communists
then maybe we shouldn’t move
to D.C. Then again, maybe
we’re not. I can’t reason one
way or the other. As long as
heaven is close, who cares?

What a waste we create.
Time is not on our side, it slips
quiet like a twisted, frayed rope
slips into the black night water.

Remember when you got pulled
over by the cops, that night you
were drunk and vomiting a world
your own? It was all W’s fault.
He fed you the alcohol like
rice to the poor.

Will you find what’s pointless
for me? Can I guess the waste?
Gourmet coffee, cigarettes,
Sundays when everything
closes in small towns.

What gets crossed out stays out.
Never question my sentimentality.
Lost, I cannot believe you can
lose something so pale against
the dark night.

Suckle and stiffen the reed.
My dirty hands
are touching
yours.

Husband Lands Job, New Niece

2006-03-18T13:54:00.000-08:00

Well, my husband, Matthew, has landed a job at George Mason! He's very excited and now we can carpool. He's going to be in the IT dept. Something about being a UNIX administrator. I'm not sure what UNIX is or does but he knows what he's doing.

Other news is that I have a new niece! She was born the other night. She remains nameless! She's 17 inches long and she weighed in at 5 lbs. 9 oz. so I think she is technically a premie. She was having some respiratory problems. I hope she will be okay.

Well, that's about it for now. More poems to come soon. Check back.

Cheers.

New Nephew

2006-03-14T14:30:00.000-08:00

Well, I have a new nephew! He was born last Monday at 11:54 am, I was in the room! It was wonderful to be there for the birth. It was intense and chaotic at the same time.
His name is Colin Michael Davis Scheer.
He's been having some health problems but will hopefully pull through and be able to come home.

It's Certain

2006-03-14T14:25:00.000-08:00

Well, I'm certain now that I'm going to George Mason for my MFA.

Today I was rejected by the University of Arizona. Still waiting on Florida, Alabama, and Pittsburgh. But, I'd much rather go to George Mason than any of those schools.

I only hope that my good friend Erin has decided to go to George Mason as well. Then I won't be so lonely!

Cheers,
Sarah

Another Acceptance

2006-03-02T13:49:00.000-08:00

Just found out today that I've been accepted to Minnesota State University as well. I'm leaning more towards George Mason though.

Life is Great!

2006-02-27T18:16:00.000-08:00

I got a letter today telling me that I am accepted into the MFA program at George Mason University!

This is my second choice school, first being the Iowa Writer's Workshop. So, I'm very happy.

Got turned down by the University of Utah also.

Cheers!

In Cold Blood

2006-02-26T15:44:00.001-08:00

I just finished Truman Capote's In Cold Blood. It was gruesome at times but very well written. It has fueled my paranoia about someone breaking into the house and not necessarily killing me but just being there in my space. The work was informative and had a lot of information about the town's people of Holcomb, Kansas and about the killers. The book takes you right up to the hangings of the two men.

I also saw the movie a couple of week's back and it made me want to read the book. I'm glad to have read it but am also glad that it's over. I'm anxious to read something else of Capote's. Maybe something less gruesome.

NIN

2006-02-15T13:53:00.000-08:00

Last Sunday night I ventured out to The Mark to see the Nine Inch Nails. The show was loud and good. I was on the floor and it was exciting. I did stay back though because I don't like being pushed around and I certainly don't like to mosh or body surf. They ended the show with "Head Like A Hole" which was great. I was at first confused because Trent Reznor didn't have any hair. He apparently cut off all his black locks. Still good looking though.

Happy late Valentine's Day to everyone who reads this. You know who you are and you know that I love you! :)

White Stripes!

2006-02-09T10:57:00.000-08:00

Well, the White Stripes won a grammy for best Alternative album, Get Behind Me Satan. Anyone who hasn't heard it really should check it out. I don't think it's their best but I love it just the same.

Whoo hoo White Stripes!

:) That's all for now.

Sending Work Out Again

2006-02-06T14:31:00.000-08:00

Today I've been gathering up poems and writing cover letters to send out my work again. It's been awhile and there will most likely be rejections but hey, you have to try. I'm sending my work to the Alaska Quarterly Review, The Antioch Review, Chelsea, the Colorado Review, and Court Green. Wish me luck!

Here's a poem for the day, this one's for my lovely poet, Erin B.:

You, a Tentative Title
~for Erin

The sign said Mississippi River.
The river was choppy, frigid.
This is October. This is you on the edge.
This is revolving around some perfect
sphere. You need a loan, you need a vice.
Remember when we had a picnic
at the river? You wore a scarf, I had a cold.
You’ll know when it’s time for a break,
just look to the sky and realize
blue is the default color.
This is your epic, this is your life
coded out on paper, all ones and zeros.
I’ve seen God in your eyes, really I have.
He’s there having tea and biscuits making
plans for hurricane season.
You’ll know when I’m stretching the truth
like a red balloon, just realize Jesus
walked on water. Can you see him in his
gown and beard walking across
the mighty Mississippi? Leaving Rock Island
for Davenport, here where this water
flows east to west. Trailing his gown across
muddy water. On the way down
we laugh, we know that people cannot
walk on water. Yet others believe this much.
They kneel and pray for their souls.
We take it in stride. You, my friend,
are all soul and bones. Rapture in egg
shape. Coffee and cigarettes, always.
This is you in contemplation.
This is my watching you: heavy, curly
and quiet. This is our dream: journals,
corpses, more coffee and equal cigarettes.
Take down all that you desire and reel in it.
Just reel in it.

Kitty is Fine

2006-02-01T11:16:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

Opal is home and doing great. Eating and acting like her old self. I'm so happy to have her home and normal again.

Per request of Erin B., here's a poem of my own.

Cheers.

Broken Trinity

Mother, I carry your heat
under my tongue.
I take the vow of your anger,
melt winter in one gasp.

Sister, I lack your courage
to take God in after the storm,
a wet stranger with candy
to rot your teeth.

Mother, we are left here
to dance a hellish jig.
Two witches in flight
descend into the pale,
a patient moon.

Tomorrow is February

2006-01-31T12:48:00.000-08:00

Tomorrow is February already. I'm ready for spring so bring it on.

I haven't posted much due to a sick kitty. Her name is Opal. She's at the vet right now. She had to stay the night. They can't figure out what's wrong with her but she won't eat. I just want her to come home. I miss the little booger.

Not much else is new right now. I'm still waiting to hear from graduate schools. But that won't be until March or April.

So here's a poem. Enjoy.

THE KISS

My mouth blooms like a cut.
I've been wronged all year, tedious
nights, nothing but rough elbows in them
and delicate boxes of Kleenex calling crybaby
crybaby , you fool !

Before today my body was useless.
Now it's tearing at its square corners.
It's tearing old Mary's garments off, knot by knot
and see -- Now it's shot full of these electric bolts.
Zing! A resurrection!

Once it was a boat, quite wooden
and with no business, no salt water under it
and in need of some paint. It was no more
than a group of boards. But you hoisted her, rigged her.
She's been elected.

My nerves are turned on. I hear them like
musical instruments. Where there was silence
the drums, the strings are incurably playing. You did this.
Pure genius at work. Darling, the composer has stepped
into fire.

~Anne Sexton

Golden Globes

2006-01-18T14:25:00.000-08:00

So I watched the Golden Globe Awards Monday night and was pleasantly surprised to see Brokeback Mountain win for best drama and best director. Too bad Heath Ledger didn't win best actor. I was also happy that Walk The Line won and that Joaquin Phoenix won. I loved that movie. It's about Johnny Cash and Phoenix portrayed Cash and even did his own singing. Oh yes, Reese Witherspoon won as well. Very cool.

One thing that pissed me off was when Dennis Quaid was introducing the Brokeback Mountain segment he made a horrible comment. He said something about it being a type of movie that rhymes with Chick Flick. The only possible thing I can think of is Dick Flick and if that's the case then that's horrible. The movie was very tastefully done and to undermine it in that way is just downright rude. Quaid seemed a little homophobic to me. Why bother making a comment like that? It pissed me off. It was definitely in poor taste.

Today I went with my mom to Peoria. It's my older sister's birthday. We went to this italian restaurant called Avanti's. It was pretty good. They have great bread there. But happy birthday Monica!

Love to all.

Brokeback Mountain

2006-01-14T16:59:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

Yesterday I finally saw Brokeback Mountain. I thought it was okay but long. There were parts that I was bored but other times that I was intrigued. I thought the direction and cinematography was good. There were quite a few older people in the theater and I wondered if they knew what the movie is really about. Anyway, I think that it could be up for some oscar nominations. At least directing. I thought Heath Ledger was great as was Jake. Two good lookin' cowboys!

That's about it for now.

Cheers.

Boring Life

2006-01-10T21:22:00.000-08:00

Hello all,

Life is pretty boring lately. Today I watched my cousin's baby, James. He's a cutie. Other than that it's been reading and writing. Actually, I'm going through all my poetry document files and pulling out ones to fix. It's quite a task. Right now I'm supposed to be doing that. I'm sitting here with Matthew and John (Matthew's friend from work) and listening to David Bowie, David Live. It's an older album. In general, I'm just hanging around until I find out about graduate school. But anyway, here's a poem. It's an older one that was published in Dream Fantasy International. Although I never saw the journal. Hmmm...

Dreaming the Death

Father dies as I descend
the last set of stairs. Antique, black

scissors plunge through
his heart, I saw the blood,

the darkness of impossible
roses seep the blinding white of

his serious shirt. A pale
buttoned, unbuttoned everyday

for thirty years. His cotton army
hangs in the closet, white after white.

Father, you know
I’m left here

with a report, a file in my
hand. Feel the smooth

dead of the fiber.
A tree has fallen.

There is work to do before
they return. I cover you,

the mess of roses
spreads to the chair.

The sun is setting behind your
death. Tomorrow

they will replace the chair.

New Poem

2006-01-04T15:20:00.000-08:00

Here's a new poem that I wrote today.

Crash

A plane crashes. The people all die.
Somewhere someone is loading
a gun. This is the end for many.
People sleep with nine irons
beside their beds.

Violence replaces love as the world
sleeps. We search for a drug
of choice. Something for the depression,
the mania. For now nicotine will do.

We are in the middle of nowhere.
There’s a gas station, a Wal-Mart
and a drug store, a McDonald’s.

We have too much time but really
it’s not enough because death
is at our heels.

That loaded gun
will do the job as that someone
takes his life, just a small dot
in the chasm of this racing
yet still world.

Any feedback would be appreciated.

Happy New Year!

2006-01-03T11:29:00.000-08:00

Happy new year everybody! I know it's a little late but I've been busy with whatnot.

Here's a poem from Mark Doty that I think is pretty good.

To Garcia Lorca

A whole acre’s containment and release,
yellow exhalation; stiff stalk and copper blaze
blaring into the Seventh Avenue A.M.
--sunflowers,

in a square rusting tub casually set
on the linoleum of the corner market
on 17th Street, where the large brusque
and tender Rumanian

barks your order back at you, then places
change in your hand like a benediction.
Against the wall, away from the counter,
sulphurous heads

fused into one radiating distillate
of the infinitive to bloom.
And almost entirely ignored, since
we understand,

even in the eight-o’clock scurry toward
purpose commerce engagement,
that the principal beauty of New York lies
in human faces.

But these foot soldiers of summer—flown
from a Mexican field, boxed north
from Alabama?—neck to neck in an impossible crowd,
they’re our double

and mirror: a hundred fierce dawns
up to their hard green waists
in cool water, shocking
in their sameness

and startling again in the shag
variations of their faces dreaming . . .
nothing language knows. Though they
are dreaming,

gazes both open and elsewhere
at once. And in this way also resemble us,
half asleep still, unworldly, carrying our sacks
of coffee prepared

as we have requested it, this town’s
flowering and respiration conducted
through our ten thousand acres’
bud and scatter.

This morning on 16th a dragonfly
--intricate, upside down, probably lost but entirely
self-possessed—clung to a brownstone wall,
immobile,

a cistern’s discolored bronze. Fountain
of refreshment, still point of the neighborhood
while taxis fret the air wild between the curbs,
already honking

and braking the song of ongoing and indifferent
setting out, same chorus as my tub of bloom:
basket refilling itself to fuel the multitude
who doesn’t want them,

since we are already flowers, already carry
shoulder to shoulder that diffident power,
stand even now stalk to stripped stalk
in the killing tub,

enough water to sustain a little while,
flaring out at the pores, out through
this dark-rimmed,
gold-dusted seeing.

~Mark Doty from School of the Arts

Merry Christmas!

2005-12-25T08:09:00.000-08:00

Just wanted to wish everyone a Merry Christmas!

Hope everyone has a good day.

Gifts, gifts, gifts!

2005-12-24T10:17:00.000-08:00

Matthew and I always exchange gifts early. Mainly because we're busy with family on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day. So, last night (Friday) we exchanged gifts!

Here's the downlow on what Matthew gave me (god, aren't we materialistic?!)

A nano iPod!! It's so cute, I can't stand it. That was the big gift.
Nice gold hoop earrings.
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory movie, the new one.
Meet the Fockers movie.
Napolean Dynamite movie.
Battleship game, this I thought was a little odd but he explained that I love to play games with him and thought this one would be fun, who knew?!
And in my stocking there was a $30 gift card for Best Buy and a $25 gift card for iTunes, I guess Matthew received those for buying the nano.

Right now I'm listening to Fiona Apple's new album on my own little nano!

Waiting for cinnamon rolls. I love the weekend, especially Christmas weekend.

Well, if I don't get around to posting again, everyone have a wonderful Christmas!!

That's all for now.

Happy Wednesday

2005-12-21T10:44:00.000-08:00

Happy Wednesday everybody. Nothing new with me. So here's a poem by Sharon Olds:

Photograph of the girl

The girl sits on the hard ground,

the dry pan of Russia, in the drought

of 1921, stunned,

eyes closed, mouth open,

raw hot wind blowing

sand in her face. Hunger and puberty are

taking her together. She leans on a sack,

layers of clothes fluttering in the heat,

the new radius of her arm curved.

She cannot be not beautiful, but she is

starving. Each day she grows thinner, and her bones

grow longer, porous. The caption says

she is going to starve to death that winter

with millions of others. Deep in her body

the ovaries let out her first eggs,

golden as drops of grain.

~Sharon Olds
From The Dead and the Living

Housewarming/Christmas Party

2005-12-17T11:27:00.000-08:00

Today Matthew (my husband) and I are hosting a housewarming/Christmas party! Hope everything goes smoothly. We invited about 50 people and I'm frightened they will all come. But if they do, they do.

We finally purchased the house we live in a couple months ago. It's a big house with about 4-5 bedrooms. 2 1/2 bathrooms. Nice kitchen, etc. You get the picture.

Today I am posting an older poem of mine called Shunyata. Hope everyone likes it.

Shunyata

Shunyata, a key philosophical term of
Mahayana Buddhism, is usually translated
as the emptiness or openness of all things.

One event can mold
a necessary newness:

a glass of water evaporating,
spilled

a rubber wheel, one of twenty,
rotated

a slender finger, ivory, one of ten,
bent.

Winter comes
but sun shines on us,

a nuclear fix
to melt us into reason.

We are one, drawn into the mine
always resurfacing

to find the redness,
the diamond of yesterday.

Our golden cross on the horizon—
Godless, Jesusless, because

we know where emptiness chewed
and swallowed.

This love,
just a glance into the grandness,

a dent in the emptiness
daring us into existence.

~Sarah Lilius

King Kong, Ding Dong

2005-12-15T12:35:00.000-08:00

Yesterday I went to see King Kong, the new one. It was depressing as hell. There were parts that were exciting with beasts chasing people and all that but overall the depressing parts overtook the movie. Adrien Brody is in the movie and he is a fabulous actor (see The Pianist) so it had that going for it. Jack Black is usually funny but is an ass in this movie. Naomi Watts is the perfect blonde damsel in distress. So I sat there for three hours wondering, why am I sitting here? The popcorn was good.

News from the graduate application front, I have nine done and one to go. Unfortunately I can't finish it because they don't have the forms on the internet. I have to wait for them to come in the mail. ugh. This is Minnesota State University. Do I really want to go there anyway? It might be the only place I get into so I suppose I better apply.

Here's a funny poem today from a wonderful poet and my professor, Rebecca Wee. Be forewarned there's a bad word, oh no! :)

A Few Words on Penis Envy

I cannot believe you
believed this, did you
perhaps spend multiple boyhood hours
wishing for a delicate slit

of your own? Did you crave
such a private inside
space, something more subtle
than your own public

divining rod, twitching
with swollen sexual weather,
the public intonations
suddenly grown

obvious? Could it be, Sig,
you so wanted a cunt
with its quiet serious strength
that you could not sleep

and so one night fashioned
this curious notion, this cockeyed
conceit that dangles, silly,
in our hands?

From Rebecca Wee’s book “Uncertain Grace”.

Well, hope everyone enjoyed that. Off to the shower I must go.

First post, brand spankin new blog

2005-12-14T13:34:00.000-08:00

Hello world,

This is my very first blog post on blogger.com. I previously had a blog on bowie-net but alas my good friend Bertram complained that she couldn't leave comments. So here I am making a new blog. So, Bertram, now you can comment! What some people will do for friends.

The mission of my blog to post poetry for a hostile world. The world needs poetry but does not know it. I'm here to tell you world that you need poetry!

So here's my first poem to share. It was published in the Denver Quarterly.

Into the ruins

Buddha amid dust.
This orchestra spells.

We float enchanted,
among broken seats.

Buddha holds the ruins,
he does nothing.

Dead soldiers at the altar,
bead by bead, pray faster.

The sun collapses on the temple.
War does nothing.

Fire amid Buddha.
This symphony sells.

We cannot laugh
when the blindfold is removed.

Fire will bring ash,
we will learn to hold nothing.

~Sarah Lilius

Please feel free to leave comments on the poems I post. This one's mine so be gentle, just kidding. Dish it out, I can take it. This is personally my favorite poem of my own work. It's simple but has a big message.

Today is a lazy day, I have all my graduate applications done except for one. I'm waiting for a form to come in the mail. I'm applying for a MFA in poetry for those of you who didn't know. So, I don't have anything to do except read and do laundry. Ah, the life of a poet with no job!

Right now I'm listening to the Walk The Line soundtrack. I normally loathe country music but Johnny Cash I can take. I especially like Joaquin Phoenix singing Cash which is what the soundtrack is. It also has Reese Witherspoon on it. She's okay, kinda squeaky if you ask me. But anyway, I'm a big movie buff and I saw Walk The Line recently and really enjoyed it. I think Phoenix could be up for an oscar for his portrayal of Cash.

Well, it's time for me to sign off and see what I can do with this blog of mine. Take care all.