The Beach

I am sitting on a heavy brown beach chair, my feet propped up on the stone wall in front of me. A white translucent bag sits on my lap, and inside of it sits a bag of yarn. I am sitting in friendly silence with several other people, and my knitting needles click slowly. I have been having a difficult time focusing on knitting, and I have gotten an inch of sock done in six days. That is not a lot for me (in an average weekend, I can get two thirds of a mid calf high sock done). I have been enjoying the beautiful sight of the ocean and the sunrises and sunsets above it.

More Poems

Red stretches around me,

my fingers dig into the fine sand.

I am held by stone and mud,

a part of the silent forest. 

The horizon ends at the edge of a crater

I can hear my own breathing,

and the gratings of insects.

All is below me,

silent and still. 

Far below, dirt has formed a miniature canyon

A model of where I am. 

The strain of muscles

my feet pounding grassy earth

blood pumps from my heart.

What Once was Math Class

Grey lighting, 

Too hot or too cold.

Boredom almost killing, 

Slumping in uncomfortable chairs, 

Away from the group, 

Passing notes. 

Silent laughter, 

Shared smiles. 

Fluttering stomachs,

Like the wings of butterflies. 

Knowing,

Falling. 

Limericks

There once was a child from Detroit.

At fishing he was quite adroit.

He once caught a finger, 

And then ceased to linger,

For his hands had been so maladroit. 

There once was a pony from Chargoggagoggmanchauggagoggchaubunagungamaugg

Who broke his foot on a log

He had been a runnin'

He was moved by a Djinn,

And found out that he was in a bog. 

Free Verse Poems

Forest

Trying hard to picture a day

Bright and warm

Less windy than today.

In a place where the grass is long

And fine and brilliantly colored. 

Where moss coats the roots of the deciduous trees. 

There is a stream, 

Or a creek,

Flowing between the trees, 

And it is crystal clear, 

And it has been running for hundreds of years. 

Somewhere where the foliage glows green where the sun rises.

There are no roads wide enough for a car. 

Water from the creek falls

Into a pool surrounded by granite.

The pool drains to the ocean, 

Surrounded by tall grasses, 

And pale, small, 

Grains of sand. 

Sunburn

The sky is brightened by the star the solar system orbits around.

The brightness shines down,

Turning the pale brown of my skin to pink. 

When the pink fades, it leaves brown dots,

Freckles.

They are said to mar the human complexion, 

But abnormalities, 

Such as freckles,

Are simply aberrations in skin color.

Occasional Poetry

The wind was loud,
The cannon hot,
The first ship, Ranger
Blackbeard got.
The wind blew fast across the sea,
The Jane pulled up beside.
Adventure sprouted yellow
Sulphur smoke poured hot and loud.
The pirates boarded
Sight unseen unto the deck of the Jane
And when the hot summer wind swept aside the smoke,
Blackbeard's life was took
Twenty stabs and many shots,
Took him to the deck.
Two years, one beard,
A man, one death.
Legend, forever made.

Ode to the Dog

In the middle of the night
     And my pillows have vanished
You are there,
     Having pushed my other pillows off the bed.
If I am sitting on the couch
     you are always there,
holding your toy hippo
     Saying please take this out of my mouth
And I say no, take your nasty toy away.
And then I give in, grab it, and throw.

Haikus: Spring cycle

Vinka is blooming
Loud among the emerald leaves
Deep shadows beneath

Grapefruit with a bruise
It has no seeds inside it
No hope of new growth

The pinto bean grows
Out of a jar filled with dirt
Green vines; a dry source

Allergies

The pollen is in the air. It crawls up my nose and causes catastrophic sneezes and extreme eye itchiness. With the combination of eye rubbing and tiredness, my eyelids are a strange lavender color. My catastrophic sneezes start at my waist and then move up until they escape with a ridiculously enormous ACHOO! In the summer sagebrush makes my eyes turn as red as if I had pinkeye, and I can't go two minutes without sneezing.

Tumble (3/31)

I'm launching myself into the air, my arms and shoulders preparing to catch me. I forgot how much fun this was. Once my hands hit the ground, my muscles move automatically, and my feet are on the ground. My forward motion pushes my forward, onto my hands and knees, but I am smiling, and I get up and do it again. I feel powerful and strong. I do it again, left foot forward, hopping on it, swinging my right leg into the air. I bring it down, and jump forwards and up. I reach out my arms, my body in the air, stretching to the ground. My hands hit, and I do a shrug that helps my body spring off of the ground and into the air again. My feet come towards the ground, and my back bends as my feet hit the ground and my arms swing in front if me at a ninety degree angle from my torso. Front handspring.

Sick and Tired (29/31)

I don't feel good. My stomach is hurting, and I have a killer headache. I feel like someone has stolen the first two layers of my skin. Everything hurts. I watch tv, because there really isn't anything else to do. I try watching while sitting upright, but it's not really working very well. I lie down, and that's uncomfortable so I sit back up. This means I get stomach bubbles and I run to the bathroom. Nothing. Ugh.

Being Etti (26/31)

Ok. I am Etti. There are three questions to choose from as finalists. number 1: What is in the 4th dimension? Number 2: Are Eyebrows facial hair? and Number 3: My brother swallowed a fish!! How can I get him to puke it up? A very close race. But I'm Etti, so I will choose whichever one I can talk about lard and taters in. I have made my decision.

(25/31)

I am dreaming. The forest below me are shrouded in thick mist that disguises all movement until it reaches the very uppermost limbs of the trees. I am on a large platform with a house like structure in the center of it. It is build around the tree in the middle of the platform, which is made of branches tied together with ropey vines. There is a ladder going down into the mist below me, and the mist evaporates around a shape coming out of the void. It is a combination of a mermaid and a zombie, long yellowed blonde hair stringy and hanging down it's mottled grey-blue back. It bursts up through the floorboards of the platform, hunched over, snarling, teeth barred, long fingernails curling over it's fingertips.

Failed internet. (23/31)

I'm trying to record a song that I'm playing on my guitar. My webcam needs a high speed internet connection. Poop. Anyway, I'm listening to spotify on my phone. There is one thing I can listen to on there, which is the black widow album by In This Moment. It's great. It's sexy in the way Patti talks about, something interesting, cool, and new. I love it. The weird combinations of rap and metal. I don't like rap, and I only like some metal, but this album is awesome. In theory it is terrible, the songs don't go together at all, and the lyrics kind of suck, but the songs are so fun to listen to. I'm addicted to this (That was a reference Sloan, be proud of me).

Pick a name; any name. (22/31)

"Pick a name, and I will draw it," I said. My results are surprising, as are some of the names. I draw some one minute cartoon drawings, and one rough sketch of Gary Schwilldebertie's head. These drawings should be the cast of a cartoon horror movie, with Chumpkin at the forefront.

Gary works at a paper distributing firm. He has chronic boredom. 

Chumpkin just wants to be loved. He's very happy, but only if you come a little closer so he can give you a hug.

Tweezer is a professional cheerleader who is addicted to plastic surgery.

This is how we all feel inside. 

Professional bodybuilder. 

And this weird lady. 

My weird friends. (20/31)

I like my weird, special people. If you were ordering what was in the boxes and the separate airtight containers within, you probably would laugh very hard. 

Thoughts. (19/31)

I'm having a good day. I ate a grapefruit, some pizza, and a frappucino, and all of my nails are painted christmas colors, because I wasn't paying attention. I've been thinking about next year. What do I want people to see me as? I don't want to be totally feminine, but I also want to wear pretty clothes, and look good and feel confident about myself. I am having many, complex thoughts. The confused thought chameleon is confused also. No Elliot did not paint this, although this is the work of the architect. 

The confused thought chameleon is fabulous. It is a complete accident, although it brings much joy to my heart. Jaykawb the chameleon, you are fabulous, may peace reign in your soul. 

I love my dog. (17/31)

My dog is my favorite sibling. He is like a much younger brother who wants to play fetch all the time, and always wants to bite me. When I come home from school, he is always there and thrilled that I am home. I usually sit down on the couch to take my shoes off, and he leaps onto the couch, tail stub wagging furiously. He will usually make cute awoo-woo noises, and then he will growl and sit on my lap. He will usually sniff my face, and then lick it twice, because he wants to make sure I haven't been cheating on him with other dogs. Then he will either go get a toy, or he will curl up on my lap and not allow me to move. My dog is the greatest.

Homework (16/31)

It's sunday, and I'm exhausted. I am sick of being stressed and exhausted. There is nothing that can help me escape from this mire of math homework. I have been busy, and so unable to do any math homework this week. Now it is sunday, and I must do my math homework. I open my folder, a little scared of what lurks within. There are six assignments in the pocket. Wait a minute, I think- two of those are assignment sheets. You have nine assignments to do today. I sit down, angry. And I begin my homework. I work and work and work, until my brain doesn't work and I am once again convinced that math is hateful torture.

That Awkward Time to Drive to School (13/31)

We turn onto Colfax. There are cars parked in the outmost lane of the street, blocking oncoming traffic. There are lines of people coming out of the door of a pot shop, waiting their turn to get their portion of this drug. We drive further on down the street, reaching the small stretch containing a strip club and many, many, gross, sketchy motels. Groups of people stand in the center of the parking lots, talking, men in dark clothes and one woman to each clump. I sigh. It's five o'clock on a friday, time for the stereotypical side of Colfax to shine. 

(Somewhat) Historically accurate garments (SOL 12/31)

This is my most recent project, finally finished, and finally wearable. I have recently finished making Elizabethan stays, which are similar to a corset but less tight. I have spent a total of four days on these stays, and Now  they have no purpose since I do not have an Elizabethan dress to wear with them. I have a lot of sewing ahead of me. Fabric budget, I will you to expand.

Workin' (11/31)

I had stagecraft for six hours yesterday, I have it for four hours today. It's exhausting, but it's fun. I have carried, scooted, redone, and fixed countless objects, and my hand are covered in tiny battle scars. In addition to having the ghosts of the injuries from last week, I have a paper cut on the pad of my left hand ring finger, a blood blister on my pinkie, a large splinter on the side of my hand, and a few more. I am tired, but I am having fun and that's all that matters to me.

Wiggy (9/31)

I like wigs. They are a way about lying about what your hair looks like, and how long it is, without dying, cutting, or putting in extensions. They give the option of spending money on something that will last forever. There are fancy wigs, cheap wigs, ugly wigs, costume wigs, so many types of wig. Always wear a wig cap, it makes life easier. STEAM IS USEFUL FOR STYLING WIGS AS IS HAIRSPRAY!!! Exciting boring days result in excessive punctuation. Ta ta.

Horizons (8/31)

There is sawdust floating in the water of my computer's desktop image. One piece is orange, bright and     irritating in the midst of water spreading out until it hits the horizon. No horizons are exactly the same. Some are on land, some in the ocean but always the horizon is the extent of what you can see. At school my horizons are the thoughts inside my head and the area surrounding me and the thing I am focusing on, whether or not this is actually my work. On the beach, the horizon is simply sky, going on and on until the end of the world. And that end is comforting, something I can lose myself in and something I can take as a sign of comfort. I can let the waves simply wash away all of my thoughts until there is nothing left but the sighing of the sea, and the feeling of grains of sand and time shifting beneath my feet.

Gardener (7/31)

My Dog (6/31)

My dog lies on the couch, snuggling the green fuzzy blanket on the couch that is bathed in sunlight. He loss that blanket. When he isn't begging me to play fetch with him, he's sleeping on the couch. Right now, he's sad because he got bored when I was ignoring him. When he gets bored, he growls. If I'm doing homework and don't want to touch his gross chew toys, he sits next to and growls until he gets depressed and leaves to go sleep on the couch. When I go to take his picture, he pointedly ignores me  until I leave and he repositions himself and groans. Silly dog.

Water (5/31)

I love the ocean. Its rhythm and the sound of its waves seem to comfort me, and I love the complexity and colors of the water as they swirl and turn. I've never felt uncomfortable on the water, or near it, even though I have had one near death experience in a pool when I was four or five.

I was swimming in a pool, sitting on a large inflatable whale, when it started to tip over. It was slow at first, and then fast as my weight flipped it over. I fell into the water, sinking down as the whale bobbed away on the surface of the pool two feet above me. I continued to sink, scared. I couldn't breathe, andI was sinking towards the bottom of the pool. I could still see the light and patterns on the surface of the pool. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my mom swimming down towards me, and she scooped me up to the surface in no time, crying. 

I'm still not scared of water. I really don't know why. 

Boning (4/31)

My most recent project is an elizabethan era corset. It is period accurate, and is also a pretty major undertaking. I have been waiting a long time for my 275 yards of reed boning to arrive so that I can finish my project. I get home after an  hour and a half of math homework and See a very large, surprisingly flat box lying on the table. I tear it open. Inside is my boning, tied up in blue ribbon. I finish my homework, and then retrieve my boning to continue working.

I begin to cut lengths to fit into the channels I have sewn into the back panels. I am halfway through the boning process, when I get distracted and the scissors snip through the skin in between my middle and ring fingers on my left hand. 

Fear Nonexistant: 2/31

I'm asleep. The pillow is hot, the dog is hot, my comforter is hot and my body pillow is on the floor next to my bed. It's three oh six, too early to reasonably get up. My breath is heavy, curling over my lips in rolls of viscous sleepiness. It's too early to get up, to hard to go back to sleep. I've been dreaming. I've had the same dream every night for the last few weeks. I'm inside a tiny house, a cottage or hut, with a thatched roof and white washed wattle and daub walls. There are a few windows that open outward into a garden full of beautiful green plants, and the sun falls through leaves of aspens that aren't there, and yet are. I'm with another person, but I don't know who, and I have to get out.

All of a sudden it is dark, full night, without ever having a dusk to make it dark. Outside the window of the happy little cottage there is a dog, standing, grey and shaggy, almost cartoonish in it's appearance. There is no fear in the dog, but around the dog, and I sweat, terrified. I run around the inside of the house, opening all the windows, closing them again when I see it. I am aware that I am dreaming, but I cannot get out, I cannot wake up.

And then Moritz is licking my arm, long slow licks, hot and sticky, as if someone is pulling a magnetically attracted piece of lukewarm ham along my arm. I shudder and wake up.

I have been watching glee for hours. I am huddled under a blanket, crying a little bit over a dispute between Kurt and Blaine. I feel like a bum, but I'm also having a great time. My emotional disputes with the television are lengthy. I keep watching until it's half past midnight, and I have three more episodes until the end. With trepidation, I go to bed and wake up, snuggling a hairy mammal whose name is Moritz. I get up, and watch more glee. I finish the season, and turn to live tv. The Television is turned to PBS, and Don Matteo is on. Don Matteo is an Italian soap opera. It's hilarious, and I watch on, unashamed.