Aussie

8,191 miles, a rough estimate

Of the distance 

between us

I can't walk it.

There's more than four oceans 

That separate us: Pacific, Coral, Tasman, Great Australian Bight

Full of sea creatures I've never seen

or heard of

I can't swim it. 

Over there, it's winter.

I check my weather app: 45 degrees

And raining

12:47 pm, 14 hours ahead

Oh, how time tears us apart, too.

I imagine you at work
in the park 

Your knees drenched from

Being in the soil
too long

Pulling up weeds

Taming them for just a 

moment,
knowing they'll never
obey your hands

I imagine your hands--
elegant but strong
full of calluses

I can't smooth them away.

Where I am, it's summer. 

80 degrees and sunny 

And my skin is more olive than

The last time

You touched it

I've since dyed my hair: 

Lavender and pink,

Like the sunset we shared

On the bus back from St. Andrews

That I hardly paid mind to

Because your fingers kept brushing mine--
Distracting and electric

It's been months since I've seen you
But I can so clearly see our history:
an impulsive kiss on the loch,
your can of Guinness exploding
blanket forts held up with duct tape,
my head sleepy in your lap
a freezing swimming pool,
your arms around me, laughter in my ear
naked in the Scottish starlight 
The moment I first met you,
a firm handshake, a
smile you pulled
from me

Effortlessly.

Whatever this is, it's stealing

my dreams

Compromising my

peace

Stretching my heart too far
across
the globe

How can I love you
When I only know how to do it
in such short distances?

(By the way, I should probably mention, 

I only ever write poems for the people

who ruin things)

NYE and NYD

Quick gratitude post! I had the best New Year's Eve and New Year's Day! On NYE, I got up early and did some productive writing. Then, James and I had Thai at our fave place, Ra-ka-de-ka, and I didn't even freeze in the unheated restaurant! After foods, we got my needle replaced on my record player (for free!) and perused, for quite a long time, Record City vinyls in Hillcrest. Almost purchased Elliott Smith and Joni Mitchell, but opted to save my money for what I really want--Sigur Ros and Radiohead. That night, I rejoined my family and brought some box wine along with me ('cause I'm classy!). We all drank, watched Sherlock, and played silly charade games. We rang in the New Year's with some bubbly and lots of hugs all around. I almost didn't make it! I'm getting so old. ;)

NYD was just as good, if not better. I woke up early to pray and journal. There was frost on the rooftops outside, which is basically snow in San Diego! I felt so thankful to see a new year. For breakfast, I had homemade menudo at my grandmother's house next door, and even caught some of the Rose Parade. Because it's one of my "resolutions" (hate that term), I hardly picked up my phone or computer yesterday, and it drastically changed my day. Instead of mindlessly browsing the internet, I watched TED Talks with James, danced on the rooftop (and in my bedroom to the Beatles on vinyl), had a good bible study, watched Midnight in Paris and more Sherlock, and fell asleep after a few glasses of wine. It's been such a great couple of days. This year is going to be amazing--I can already tell. 

<3

V

I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you

Can we talk about how much I read in a week?

For my American Lit class...

By Tuesday:

• Web reading on Naturalism: http://www.wsu.edu/~campbelld/amlit/natural.htm
• Read Intro 1
• Jack London textbook introduction (pp. 1811-1812)
• “To Build a Fire” (1908), by Jack London (pp. 1812-1823)
• Stephen Crane textbook introduction (pp. 1765-1768)
• “The Blue Hotel” (1898), by Stephen Crane (pp. 1784-1803) 
• Our Norton anthology includes a few excerpts from Crane's "War is Kind."  Please read the final two stanzas on p.1805. 

By Wednesday:

• Begin reading American Literature, 1914-1945 (Norton 1837-1856)
• Read Intro 2
• “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” (1915) by T.S. Eliot (pp. 2006-2009)
• Read the Norton intro for E.E. Cummings (pp.2135-2136) and the poems “Buffalo Bill’s” and “next to of course god america i”  (pp. 2138-2139)
• Read "Mearl Blankenship" and "Absalom"--both from Muriel Rukeyser's U.S. 1 :
  Rukeyser (pdf)
  The text is from Rukeyser, Muriel. U.S. 1. New York: J.J. Little and Ives Company, 1938.

By Thursday

•  Fitzgerald intro in Norton (pp.2147-2149)
• "Winter Dreams" (1922), by F. Scott Fitzgerald (pp. 2149-2164)
• Ernest Hemingway textbook introduction (pp. 2203-2205)
• "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" (1938), by Ernest Hemingway (pp. 2205-2221)
• W. E. B. Du Bois textbook intro (pp.1715-1716) and "Souls of Black Folk" Chapter 1 (pp. 1717-1722)
• Edwin Arlington Robinson textbook intro (p. 1857) and the poems "Richard Cory," "Miniver Cheevy," and "Mr. Flood's Party" (1858-1860)

For my regular Lit class... 

•  "The Yellow Wallpaper" by Charlotte Perkins-Gilman
• "The Moths" by Maria Viramontes

For my Creative Writing class... 

• "My Life with the Wave" by Octavio Paz
  

This is what I have to READ; it does not include what I have to WRITE. And while much of this is pleasurable, it's still categorized as, "For School." I like to read for pleasure, too. Last week I read a whole book (plus a few fanfics) on top of all this and schoolwork. When people say they "don't have time to read," I roll my eyes. Make time! The benefits of reading are astronomical. Recently I was at a party and people kept complimenting me on my vocabulary (which is basically the best thing ever for a nerd like me). Not only does your use of language improve, but so does your knowledge of human nature, culture, history, psychology, etc. etc. Reading is the bee's knees. Go pick up that book you've been meaning to read!

Star Stuff

[People always ask if my poetry is 100% true, and I always say that parts of it are real and parts of it are fiction] [This is a rough draft] [And also meant to be performed] [Brackets are cool]

Star Stuff

VZ

1460 cherry reds and a jean jacket torn at the sleeves,

I stomp through your dreams

Disturb your peace

Kiss you to sleep

You’re always asking why my hair is so magnificent 

Magical

Marvelous

Maddening

And I just shrug and reply, “I don’t know, I never brush it.”

“Of course,” you say, “of course.”

Like I just answered

The most important question of the universe

(And your eyes shine bright

And your lips stick to my lips

And you pet my hair)

And maybe you’ll never understand why I love you.

Why I love you, black button-up.

Why I love you, watermelon tongue.

Why I love you, greased hair.

Why I love you, cigarette-between-teeth, stealer-of-sheets, foot-massager,

cunnilingus-enthusiast, never-eats-sweets.

(Well, except for me)

You think I’m too young

And wild

And talented

And beautiful

And bloody fucking brilliant

(And you’re right, you’re goddamn right)

But so are you

So are we

And ever since we met I’ve never been able to see

a tree the same

They call to me

Entice me with branch and leaf and shady caress of tall and green

And I can hear you whisper, “This is Nature’s sonnet. Nature sings.”

Like that time in the park I brought a blanket

And we lied

Under a sycamore under the sky

Blue

Scattered with clouds

Scattered with faces we knew and

Didn’t know

Your wife

My mother

The son of god

Your dead brother—

Who you say would’ve loved me ‘cause he was like you but

better

‘Cause he was like me but

older

And that makes me think of all the parts of you I don’t have—

Will never have because they’re dead

Because they’re lost to time

(Because they’re not mine)

Like your first cry as an infant in the world

The fibers in the carpet you first stepped on

The fibers in the carpet you first vomited on

(From too much liquor)

The face you made when you first got your shit tattoo

The noise you made when you first came

The thought you had when you first saw my face

The way your brother made you feel about you

Made you feel about life

(And why you didn’t just wait for me when you decided you needed a wife)

And sure, I know a lot about you

More than anyone, anywhere knows about you or

Anyone, anywhere

Not just that you’re in love with cheese

Or that you used to be in a band and sing

Or that your favorite color is black

Second: red

Third: green

I know the exact shape your brows take on when you cry

And the diameter of your pupils blown-wide

And your most treasured, sacred-secret lines

kept in your

Most treasured, sacred-secret notebooks—

Morrissey and

Neruda and

Henley

And I know the tremble of your hands across my skin

Across the breadth of me

And I know what you fear most in this terrifying, gorgeous world

(It’s the same as mine)

You fear a wasted existence

A half life

A life spent behind the posts of an open door

Symphonies unwritten

unplayed.

A soul undiscovered

unnamed.

You fear places unvisited

Homes and parks and shops revisited

Day after day

An endless, hopeless cycle

You fear strong, steady hands filing papers

Not filling starved bellies

Not holding dying hands

Not tilling the fields in foreign lands

These are the things we’re most afraid of—

You and I.

I can hardly separate us, can I?

Some say that opposites attract 

but you and I are the very same

We were born of the same star-stuff

Split delicately by the hands of God

Thrown into the void

to find the void

(Left by each other)

We’re not soulmates, no

We’re more

We’re Twin Flames

(And when you’re inside me we've only one name)

And I don’t care

I don’t care if this sounds crazy

IAMCRAZY

I may be the only person who ever fucking pulls my teeth out for love

For you

For sunny mornings, cheek-flush, thousands of kisses lost in my hair

Thousands of kisses lost in the skin spaces

For the dust particles stuck to your nose like little freckle-blessings

Like little mole-constellations

For the sighs muffled by the chirping birds outside

For the supernova orgasms and the nebulae in your eyes from all the star-fucking

(We can’t ever seem to stop doing)

And finally, most importantly,

for the silent dialogue of you and me

So, if I stomp through your dreams like some parody of a punk princess

You write all of mine, Sir Cosmic Cuddler, Love-of-Mine

And I love these dreams best

I loathe these dreams most

And I pray to them to take you out

To make you right here

(Next to me)

And not so far away

Working on a poem... it's really good. I think. Anyway, it's for this. I have to submit 3-5 poems and I'm not sure which ones from my collection. Maybe I'll just write all new ones? I don't know. Exciting stuff, though. I wanted to go to Paris this summer but I figure this writer's intensive is probably more fruitful than a month in France. IF I get it, of course.

If I get it, R.I.P. crepes. R.I.P. Louvre. R.I.P. rue Cler. R.I.P. Oscar Wilde's tomb, Lover's Bridge, Notre Dame, the Eiffel Tower, Cafe de Flor, Musee d'Orsay, Versailles and macarons and cheap Merlot and nights out dancing along the Seine, and sleepy mornings with cafe au lait and Jean-Paul Sartre and half-smoked cigarettes. Rest in peace.

Okay, I'm done.

The writers teaching in this program are absolutely incredible. I just about died when I saw Louise Gluck's name (fucking Eros). Not to mention Jorie Graham, Robert Pinsky, Frank Bidart... Getting this would be amazinggggg.

So, that's what I'm up to! My creative writing class is going well at Southwestern, too. We have to write a short story next month. I already know the end, wanna hear it? (this is a rough draft, by the way)

"Is this real?"

"I don't know." 

She cups his cheek, thumb grazing over two-day stubble. His jaw is tight from the uncertainty of her answer, and she can tell he wants to flinch at her touch, wants to run away from her indefinitely, but he doesn't. Never has. Wouldn't dare.

He'd give her a grenade and wait patiently by her side until she unpinned it.  

Funnily enough, she'd do the same.

"I don't care," she says quietly, "it feels real."

The exhale from his lips comes directly from his soul, and she can smell it. The heady, heavy scent of tentative trust. Like a child testing out his legs.

And she can hear the pumping of his heart. Taste the blood flow through every vein. Feel the way his limbs breathe with him and come back to life again; all at once. 

She knows this like her favorite poem: line-by-line, eyes closed.

"Yeah?" He asks, and he searches her eyes imploringly. Desperately. But he should know the answer, damn it. How could he not know?

Suddenly she is overcome, undone, wrecked with her want to kill his fear. To choke it and bury it and spit on its grave. This is her man to protect and love. This is her person in all of this world--reality, dreams, wherever the fuck--it's all the same. 

This is HER person.

"Yes," she answers, but it's more of a smile than anything.

He nods then, runs a hand through his slicked back hair. His lips quirk into an awkward shape like all those times she made a clever joke and he'd do his best to avoid smiling. To avoid giving her the pure satisfaction.

She mustn't know this conversation was 3.4 seconds away from ruining him (even if he knows she knows). 

There are just some things you don't need to say.

"Tea, then?"

:(