Monthly Archives: December 2011

To Do List

I always function better if I have a to-do list.

Recently, I’ve been dissatisfied. I feel lazy. It doesn’t help that Bellingham has officially entered winter, or, as I like to call it, “the season of watching sitcoms on DVD and drinking.” While I love to re-watch Friends as many times as possible, I’ve decided that I need a challenge. I need to be shaken up. I need to get out of the house.

I’ve  decided to release another collection of poetry.

It’s coming out on Februrary 24th. I’m having a book release party at Honeymoon, which is behind the Pepper Sisters, if you’re a local. There will be music and art and delicious mead. I will have a new book called What We Can Not Keep. I would love it more than anything if you’d all come.
This means my posts may be less frequent here, while I make final edits and all of that business. I may just continue to post poems from the collection, as I complete them. For those of you reading out there, as always, thank you so much for your support. Things are going to start happening.

To keep with the theme, here’s a poem that may well be included in the upcoming book.
Happy Holidays.

To Do List

1.) Laundry

Every morning I pretend I’m six again. I put on every single thing I want to wear. I’m neon. I click when I walk.

2.) Buy milk

I can’t make it through a quart without it spoiling. The only evidence of my single lifestyle, I am considering soy.

3.) Make time to write

An eternal New Year’s Resolution more intrinsically tied to my health than “only drinking in moderation”. It comes for me, when I don’t listen. I try any excuse; it can not be assauged.

4.) Exercise

I listen to Marvin Gaye to find the bottom of my floor. I listen to Bikini Kill when I need to work it out. I have a weekly gym membership roommate dance party and when I shake it, the whole room gets down.
In the worst of situations, almost any pain can be alleviated by doing the twist.

5.) Sleep

Only when you slow to a stop, the crush of your fever’s fermata.

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To Brand

Hot water
buckets of it, the bill through the roof
the whole wide world drying up
no real excuse for the poverty it inflicts
But morning and night
back to the same routine.

You step outside and a week’s work is gone
before you could enjoy it
Sex won’t fix it.
Young men offering chest and thigh to take the edge off
but you don’t want to warm up, not really
You want to simmer. To scald.
Hours a day, your morning run can’t cut it
severe enough just till you stop moving
Then it’s back in
dull skin becoming burnt and pink again
Don’t give me what I don’t want,
don’t assume absence represents a lack.

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