This is a sex poem (and a Halloween poem too)

because Halloween and sex go together so very, very well IMO. And it's that time of year, and I have some great Halloween sex stories, and well, yeah, that's about it. Anyway, girls, my Larry's assignment is now completed :) I couldn't come up with a better title though, sorry. Suggestions are welcome.

One Night Stand

The darkness never frightened me,
the falling into another, the ghostly
glow of moonlight illumining a shoulder
rising above me, a hand reaching
for something, a lock of dark hair
snaking over the pale smudge of your face
in the night. I was not afraid then,
not of pain, not of pleasure, your teeth
against my skin, your heat
against my tongue, the beat
of our bodies and our hearts
to a breaking point, a crashing,
the limits of pressure and sensation,
the end of anticipation. It was later,
in the light of morning, as we dressed
and kissed goodbye, that I felt fear.

A Request....

to my readers who may or may not be out there.

I have put together 15 pages of poems that I'm thinking of submitting as my writing sample for grad school applications. I would love to get your feedback, either generally or on specific pieces, what you think are the strongest, what are the weakest, what should not be submitted, what should go first, etc. If you'd be willing to help me out with that, leave a comment and your email address if I don't already have it, and I'll send them over.

Thanks muy mucho!

Oh, and I scheduled my GRE! It's next Thursday, October 16th, at 4:00pm. I've got another week to study, but I just want to get it over and done with. I would LOVE to score as well as I did in 1999, though I honestly expect my math score to be substantially lower, but I don't think MFA programs care too awfully much about math scores. So, wish me luck on the GRE, and please let me know if you'd be willing to give feedback on poems.

Thanks, my lovelies!

Water and Copper

This is not a sex poem, although that was our "assignment".... Fred Andrle read a poem last night about wells, and our table at Larry's was sort of brainstorming what the word "well" makes us think of, and I started writing a poem about that during the reading but didn't really finish it or love it. Today, I was going to write a sex poem, and I was thinking of kissing someone in the rain years and years ago, a moment I'd forgotten till reading an old journal reminded me of it, and I'd been writing yesterday in my LJ about being afraid of getting what I want, and I just sort of put all that together and came up with this.

Water and Copper

I dreamt of wells last night
of cool stone at my back
rain falling on bare shoulders
as we kissed under the moon.

I dreamt pennies falling
from my child's sweaty palm
splashing far below, the darkness
and the mystery of wishes.

I dreamt of getting what I want,
my hands on your skin,
lips to your cheek, your lips,
your throat. I woke

afraid that I was trapped
in the well, that I would fall in
after my pennies and tumble out
of sight, that I'd really kissed you.

This is the dark side of wishes:
I have the power
to make them all come true.

View from the Kitchen Window after Four Years of War

this is a poem that started a very long time ago, in my first college cw class, i think. it's gone through several revisions since.

View from the Kitchen Window after Four Years of War

I turn off the television, tired
of watching the same news every day.
I need a drink of water, go to the sink,
brush the faded curtain aside and stare out
through the screen ---

Cubed green hills as brilliant in the sun
as any pigment in a box of crayons,
cornstalks waving slowly
in a too warm wind, the grid overlapping
all, like attack plans on graph paper,
perfection simplified, a patriotic dream,
a child’s game in rural America.
Cows dot the fields like fallen toy soldiers,
the leaves ruffled by the breeze
could be flags. It is a history book
battlefield, dramatic, glorious.

I bring my face closer to the screen
to look through the square cages of wire,
knowing that the world isn’t neatly broken
into perfect cubes, that war is not noble,
and that dust coats the rusted screens
of seldom washed farm house windows.

Why He Still Matters When I've Been a Lesbian for Five Years

remember, kids, this is fiction! or, at least, not literal truth.......

Why He Still Matters When I've Been a Lesbian for Five Years

I never loved him,
it's not that. It's just
that the meaning
and the beauty
of the universe
came clearly to me
for the first time
with his body
in mine, our eyes
in the mirror, the world
in his mouth. I was
too young to know
it's always like that -
devoured, restored,
the rise and the fall,
the cycle of life.

Sigh

Quick progress update on the grad school applications:

I think I have one Statement done! It's a 1 page "Statement of Goals" for the NEOMFA. I picked that one to complete first, because of the 1 page limit, and because a statement of goals seemed easier than a generalized personal statement. I did it last night, edited from my big long rambly generic statement that covers everything. I'll re-read it, and then maybe pass it on to my recommenders to get their feedback.

I have forms filled out to request 9 sets of transcripts and send them to the appropriate schools. SDSU for some reason specifies on their website not to send transcripts until you've filled out the online application, which I'm waiting to do till I have some more money for fees. And there are two schools I'm still not sure I'll apply to or not (Indiana for complicated reasons and UCSD because I'm not even sure if they're going ahead with the program). Just need to drop that in the mail.

Other than that - poem ideas in my head, no money in my pockets, not enough time in my days, and too much mess in my apartment.

Such is life, and we carry on :) And, hey, speaking of, why don't you go listen to Kelly's new songs?

A bit of a poem

which is very "current", shall we say? It's just sort of off the cuff this afternoon, and maybe a little too true...... Or maybe not.

Untitled for now

There are blessings that look
so much like curses – storms
that knock out the power
and transport you back
to candles and cookfires
and nothing to do at night
but talk, running late
the day there’s an accident,
the funeral that reunites
a family, and, maybe, this.

A message, filtered
through layers of twenty-first
century reality, appearing
on a screen, from a man
you never could say no to,
now, when you’ve said no
to men for four years.


In grad school news - I printed off ten transcript request forms today. Yes, I think I'm pruning my list a bit, but I can always print more if I decide to hit all 12 schools on my list after all.