Monday, November 29, 2010

Nonsense Verse

What am I?
You're the sunshine in the centre of a block of butter
You're the little squishy baby peas,
The tiny ones in a bowl of buttery boiled green.
Why is the earth round?
Because when things explode, they spin into separates little blobs
Spin around in circles and make their own paths.
Where did you come from?
From the centre of the cluster-flowers,
The tiny little middle
Of the tiny little flowers
That haven't opened up yet.
And where are you going?
To the ends of the earth
To bring you a little silvery magic pea...
And what will I do with the pea? 
You will eat it my love,
And understand how important
The little things are
And because I am your pea princess.
And why do you love me?
But that, my love,
Is a question for the ages.

How to lose your way

Spin around five times on the tips of your toes
And blink rapidly at the slightly unsteady world around you.
Then walk two steps north
As long as north is not to your right.
Rub your eyes until you see little black spots that dance as your gaze shifts.
Lie flat on the ground spread your arms and legs out and pause, and make a snow angel in the dust. 
Pick up your feet in your palms and trace your fingers on the soles and tickle until, they are helpless with laughter, and set them down to trip you up.
Try to think of the important things, 
And when you make decisions, feel their gravity's plastic suction blobs stuck to your legs like a million starfish and pull them away with little pops and traces of red circles that only vanish when you ignore them.

Monday, November 22, 2010


Huge eyes on a tiny face, luminous amber honey like eyes that constantly look surprised. Ears like tunnels, half transparent in their disproportion, as if someone stretched them out too big; and a tiny tongue, row of pointy teeth, with a yawn as big as Africa. Tiny, skeletal fur-wrapped torso, warm and wriggly, and a yowl of interest every time you see my face. A rippling spinal cord that struggles to explore everything around it, leather-velvet paw-bottoms and sharp little digging claws that ripped my purple scarf. A mewling, scrambling, little ball of burrowing fur that purrs like a boiling kettle in contentment, and snuggles into my sweater, with a strangely prominent heartbeat and the sweetest half-shut sleep-eyes.  
I think I want to keep you forever.    

Sunday, November 7, 2010

rolling down a hill

grass grazing exposed skin and vague discomfort; the thrill of hurtling like a log onto a patch of flat grass and sitting up laughing dusting off fragments sticking to your clothes.

Thursday, November 4, 2010

sometimes, i hate that i can't survive without you. 

i'm a

blurb of a profound thought.
taste of what is to come.
a shadow of something that could be
i'm a
storm clouds
that never burst.

Tuesday, November 2, 2010

woke up thrice to three different mornings. warms sunshine streaming in and groggy phone calls trying to carry the night into another day. waking up feeling like its still morning, and having eggs for breakfast at two o clock. weather smiling and everything feeling like a holiday. reading a book in the sun while everyone did their own thing.
but somehow the day turned into a monster and dread settled in and unnecessary tears and fears and cliches sunk in like the titanic.
different mornings mean different endings and different ways of dealing with things. morning became a three headed hydra that smiled and laughed and made me cry.
but however hard i try, i cant just be crazy.