Swim or Drown
I cry in bitter booms
I cry in deep and cool waves and swim in the thought of you
I am alive in the sway and am awakened by the reflection of the sun
You the energy of my body
You giving life to death and death to death
I cry tears to the distance of you
And pray in deep longing and burning when I am awakened by your breath
I swallow oceans in your presence
I sing my sun’s youth to you
I dance in paintings to the song of you
I move to you, the sun
I move when you, the sun are present
When your heart moves as the ocean
Billions of moves and waves and eddies and peace
I move with you, my song follows you to the depth of yours
To swim or drown
To rise with the waves of your words toward the autumn moon
Or to fall to the dark bottomless bottom you fall
I move with you
Young
I burn and bathe in shallow grooves
I sway with the yellow of the earth
I bury myself in brown crumbling tunnels
I am a thousand words before me
I have mouthed them well at passers by
I am youth! I am bare skin young and menacing
Honey brown and smooth with time
My hands are silk and strong
They carry mountains
And my open eyes seeping into the skin of elders
My hands rule this world
They are the creator of anything and everything all at once and never at all
I am conquering mountains with each step forward
The sun welcomes me he says, “Today is a bright day for youth!”
We stand by oceans
Menacing as they are
We are bigger in presence
My voice, my words, my thoughts, my deeds, are bigger than my body can stand
I am turning blue with the sky
I am possibilities and I make up all of this earth with my breath
Silent Feminine Games
You bring me down in cords in tunnels
You move chairs away from me
You move moons away from my window
You look away when there’s nothing to see
You move in hurricane tunnels to the sound and sway of nothingness
I am pennies to you
I sit towers above towers
And you see nothing but ground
You fly clouds to see me
And you bring wind, your gift of game
I sit un-mentioning to you, I sit alone away from you
I sit in silent feminine games
And blink in silent feminine moods
And you drink the honor’s drink
And you let me fall like sand
To the Earth that Buries Me
I fold in like cages
I bend and fold like concrete
I bend my hands at the sounds of the sun
I drink my life into drowning
I move and am moved
I let my song to be sung
I am not a failed figured temptress
I do not wake to the sounds of death
I do not string my voice in cords of thunder
I am worth bags of you
I am worth mountains
You the eyes sewn into knots
You the casket, the fire
You the tunnel the binds me
The rope that feeds me
The lock that keeps me witness to white cords that drape me blind
You the giver of hope and loss of mind
You who measures me in paper cuts
Oh you the bleeding wrist
You who makes me become the earth
You who will punish me with daggered bliss
Office Monday
Monday you are the bad news!
You are whispered about in offices
In corners by the coffee pot
Everyone publically loathes you!
Monday you are the goodbye to everything that was free
Oh Monday you poor thing
You are the stab in the corner of our eyes
You are the reminder again of the start of working days
And the farthest away from family weekends together
Of staying out late and renting movies
Of not waking up to early morning screaming alarm clocks
You are away from parties and drinking
Of working on hobbies or meeting potential attractive glares
Of comfortable couch cuddling with loved ones
You are the mess and cleanup after the celebration
You are the “do I have to?”
You are the dragging feet wrapped in business shoes
Who are taken out from weekend hiding
You are the reminder of back to the grind and real world
You are a reminder that we are slaves to ourselves and our money and our cars
You are the poor hated made up day in our minds that we’ve automatically accepted as bad because you are a culture assigned and infested day
All reminders of the far away famously celebrated happy day off that is Friday
Oh poor Monday, people refer to you as their first bad day
People say they hate you Monday! People want to sleep through you!
They say, today is my Friday! Hooray!
Oh Friday the wretched pretty prom girl
Who died and made Friday king?!
Oh poor Monday I say we reassign days
I say we have dates on Mondays!! Picnics and parties!
Monday I say we start rumors in the office about you, that you are the start of something new!
I’ll tell everyone that you are the beginning of hard work, and of freedom because we are allowed to work in the first place!
I’ll make flyers that declare Monday gold! Monday means money and seeing your co-workers and having the ability to work, and of good coffee, and swiveling chairs, and of office gossip!
I’ll send memos that say that Monday is another day that we are thankful for being alive, another day to get things done and to be productive and to learn something new!
Oh Monday! You poor thing, we’ll make something of you yet.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Monday, March 9, 2009
Operation Retrieval
I’m known to forget things. On a vacation from Houston to New York I once forgot my purse in a gas station in South Carolina. This weekend I left my purse in my drawer at work. I would have left it there for the weekend, hoping not to get pulled over, which has only happened to me once in a “bad” part of town where a gang patrol until stopped me thinking that I might be a gangster on her way to a drive by or something. But once they stopped me and found out that I was actually a nerdy college student in sweatpants on her way to the laundry mat, they talked about how I should think about not having such dark tint on my windows, then left me and almost took my drivers license with them because, like I said, I tend to forget things.
I realized that I might not need my driver’s license but that I needed my prescriptions in case of some kind of mountain cedar attack. Half way to work I realized that today was the day that the fired vice president of recruitment and retention would be packing up and moving things out of the office, to avoid the embarrassment of doing it during regular business hours. I sent a text message to a co-worker, explaining my predicament, expressing my desire not to see this fired VP and avoid all embarrassment and awkwardness. He only told me that maybe he would give me his signed confession, declaring his loss in humanity and begging for forgiveness. My coworker was obviously no help and this made me incredibly nervous.
When I first tried to get into the building, I realized that I would need my employee id to open the main doorways, which was kept, of course, inside my purse. Luckily, the students at this university work all weekend, and a Chinese international student was working in one of the labs, and he opened the door for me and walked away without looking at me, possibly hoping not to interrupt his train of thought. I was so grateful to get in and to show that I wasn’t stalking him or some kind of weirdo, that I was an employee there on serious business. I told him thank you and he was turned around and walking away when he said “you’re welcome,” his fuzzy, shaggy hair moving away from me.
To make sure he knew, although I’m sure he didn’t care and wasn’t listening, that I was in fact, an employee on serious business, I jingled my keys to show that I really did have access, and I made it a point to make a great deal of noise going into the employee entrance door, which led to our office. I opened all three doors with my key that led me to the main office, where my small front office desk was located. We recently had to change the key to this main door, in fear that the VP, who still hadn’t given up his key would come in and do something radical, our Executive Director always afraid of retaliation, always saying, “I’ll be sued” when having a discussion with anyone about the fired VP, or any number of disgruntled employees.
I opened the door, picked up the purse, and looked around to make sure that I didn’t leave anything else behind. I was only ten steps from the outside of the door, to the hallway, and then outside of the building in a door I couldn’t access from the outside. I started thinking about going to visiting my grandmother, who I always took to lunch, and who in return always requested a run to the Mexican bakery where she would buy my favorite pink cookies, when in I closed the door behind me, and looked up to see the VP, wearing a long coat and leather gloves, desperately clasping onto empty boxes stacked on top and inside of one another. It seemed like he was completely frozen, looking at me, angled in an attempt to drag the boxes and open the door toward the hallway that led to his office. I didn’t know what to say, do I say that I’m sorry? Do I act like it was just another ordinary day? Do I sympathize or ignore? What would he appreciate more? What would be best? I thought that maybe I should wait to hear what he would say first. I pretended to be busy, which is what I thought to be the best solution in any situation (at least when it came to running into the cute boys I liked, to avoid being nervous, which makes me babble and panic, usually), I looked at my keys, fumbled with my purse.
He looked down at his boxes, said a very non-enthusiastic, and rehearsed “Hi.” I was relived. I simple retaliatory and rehearsed hi and I would be gone, busy, on my way out, hello goodbye, it would all be over. “Hi!” I shouted, probably because I was nervous, and started to walk confidently down the hall and toward the door, but at the same time he overlapped my shouting to say, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh I forgot my purse,” I said, pointing to it, carrying a huge smile on my face, again, due to some kind of absurd nervousness. I started to walk out, to say goodbye, when he said, “Are you here to spy on me?” I was completely surprised. Spy? Me. Haha! I suppose he considered that I was sent to check up on him to make sure that he wasn’t destroying anything and that he was leaving quickly, and quietly, no problems, no issues, and that he was even leaving as promised, instead of delaying moving and causing more problems for us. I was disgusted now, a little angry even, it was a weekend, I wanted to go see my grandmother, I was hungry, and I’m a spy?
I sounded disgusted (it was actually the same tone I used when the police pulled me over), “Um, no, I said, I’m getting my purse.” I lifted it up at the straps, as if to demonstrate the evidence in a court case, exhibit A, I suppose. It was clear enough to me, simple enough. “I know you’re here to spy on me, don’t worry I’m leaving, tell your boss I said that.” I was even more angry now, and although I normally withhold my real feelings at work in moments like this, when met with angry bosses or students, I considered that I won’t have any consequences on a Saturday afternoon, with no other employees around, speaking to a FIRED employee. I was really shouting now, my voice echoing in the empty, cold hallway that was only different than a hospital hallway in that its colors were yellow beige and off white. “If you think that I would spend MY weekend, my valuable weekend doing something for work, or even doing something for work like spying on someone, you’re absolutely crazy!!” I felt blushed and feverish, my jaw tensed, and I also found that I couldn’t stop. I forgot that in moments of anger like this, I was prone to long and winded monologues. “I have better ways to spend my weekend, sir!” I was getting louder. “If you’d think that I’d rather spend it here, instead of having lunch with my grandmother, you’re completely crazy! You’re paranoid, do you think that the CIA is coming here to get you too?!” I stopped and caught my breath, I was breathing heavily as though I had been running. I got ready to turn around and walk away, making sure to calm myself down so that I could display that I can recover quickly, not let this bother me and be on my way, when I exhaled and saw the newest, youngest, and most handsome employee to our department, a grant writer, walk in behind the former VP of recruitment and retention. He looked at me like I was completely disgusting, as if I had just thrown up on his shoes. Shit. Oops. Behind him, two custodians were staring at me in confusion but curiosity. I still thought that I was right, that he had no right to accuse me of spying on him. I thought that if I continued to stand my ground, the new grant writer would see my side of it. What the fuck was he doing here on a Saturday anyway? “Don’t ever accuse me of anything like that again!” I yelled and waved my finger in the air accusatory, although it was pointing straight up as though I were about to do some kind of 1920’s dance, as I turned around and walked out of the door, which slammed behind me on its own due to its heavy construction. I was flushed, but now relief was overcoming me. I walked toward the parking lot with a head full of questions, I sent a text to my coworker which said, “I just yelled my lungs off at the fired VP, I’m going to get sued!” It made me feel a little bit better.
I realized that I might not need my driver’s license but that I needed my prescriptions in case of some kind of mountain cedar attack. Half way to work I realized that today was the day that the fired vice president of recruitment and retention would be packing up and moving things out of the office, to avoid the embarrassment of doing it during regular business hours. I sent a text message to a co-worker, explaining my predicament, expressing my desire not to see this fired VP and avoid all embarrassment and awkwardness. He only told me that maybe he would give me his signed confession, declaring his loss in humanity and begging for forgiveness. My coworker was obviously no help and this made me incredibly nervous.
When I first tried to get into the building, I realized that I would need my employee id to open the main doorways, which was kept, of course, inside my purse. Luckily, the students at this university work all weekend, and a Chinese international student was working in one of the labs, and he opened the door for me and walked away without looking at me, possibly hoping not to interrupt his train of thought. I was so grateful to get in and to show that I wasn’t stalking him or some kind of weirdo, that I was an employee there on serious business. I told him thank you and he was turned around and walking away when he said “you’re welcome,” his fuzzy, shaggy hair moving away from me.
To make sure he knew, although I’m sure he didn’t care and wasn’t listening, that I was in fact, an employee on serious business, I jingled my keys to show that I really did have access, and I made it a point to make a great deal of noise going into the employee entrance door, which led to our office. I opened all three doors with my key that led me to the main office, where my small front office desk was located. We recently had to change the key to this main door, in fear that the VP, who still hadn’t given up his key would come in and do something radical, our Executive Director always afraid of retaliation, always saying, “I’ll be sued” when having a discussion with anyone about the fired VP, or any number of disgruntled employees.
I opened the door, picked up the purse, and looked around to make sure that I didn’t leave anything else behind. I was only ten steps from the outside of the door, to the hallway, and then outside of the building in a door I couldn’t access from the outside. I started thinking about going to visiting my grandmother, who I always took to lunch, and who in return always requested a run to the Mexican bakery where she would buy my favorite pink cookies, when in I closed the door behind me, and looked up to see the VP, wearing a long coat and leather gloves, desperately clasping onto empty boxes stacked on top and inside of one another. It seemed like he was completely frozen, looking at me, angled in an attempt to drag the boxes and open the door toward the hallway that led to his office. I didn’t know what to say, do I say that I’m sorry? Do I act like it was just another ordinary day? Do I sympathize or ignore? What would he appreciate more? What would be best? I thought that maybe I should wait to hear what he would say first. I pretended to be busy, which is what I thought to be the best solution in any situation (at least when it came to running into the cute boys I liked, to avoid being nervous, which makes me babble and panic, usually), I looked at my keys, fumbled with my purse.
He looked down at his boxes, said a very non-enthusiastic, and rehearsed “Hi.” I was relived. I simple retaliatory and rehearsed hi and I would be gone, busy, on my way out, hello goodbye, it would all be over. “Hi!” I shouted, probably because I was nervous, and started to walk confidently down the hall and toward the door, but at the same time he overlapped my shouting to say, “What are you doing here?”
“Oh I forgot my purse,” I said, pointing to it, carrying a huge smile on my face, again, due to some kind of absurd nervousness. I started to walk out, to say goodbye, when he said, “Are you here to spy on me?” I was completely surprised. Spy? Me. Haha! I suppose he considered that I was sent to check up on him to make sure that he wasn’t destroying anything and that he was leaving quickly, and quietly, no problems, no issues, and that he was even leaving as promised, instead of delaying moving and causing more problems for us. I was disgusted now, a little angry even, it was a weekend, I wanted to go see my grandmother, I was hungry, and I’m a spy?
I sounded disgusted (it was actually the same tone I used when the police pulled me over), “Um, no, I said, I’m getting my purse.” I lifted it up at the straps, as if to demonstrate the evidence in a court case, exhibit A, I suppose. It was clear enough to me, simple enough. “I know you’re here to spy on me, don’t worry I’m leaving, tell your boss I said that.” I was even more angry now, and although I normally withhold my real feelings at work in moments like this, when met with angry bosses or students, I considered that I won’t have any consequences on a Saturday afternoon, with no other employees around, speaking to a FIRED employee. I was really shouting now, my voice echoing in the empty, cold hallway that was only different than a hospital hallway in that its colors were yellow beige and off white. “If you think that I would spend MY weekend, my valuable weekend doing something for work, or even doing something for work like spying on someone, you’re absolutely crazy!!” I felt blushed and feverish, my jaw tensed, and I also found that I couldn’t stop. I forgot that in moments of anger like this, I was prone to long and winded monologues. “I have better ways to spend my weekend, sir!” I was getting louder. “If you’d think that I’d rather spend it here, instead of having lunch with my grandmother, you’re completely crazy! You’re paranoid, do you think that the CIA is coming here to get you too?!” I stopped and caught my breath, I was breathing heavily as though I had been running. I got ready to turn around and walk away, making sure to calm myself down so that I could display that I can recover quickly, not let this bother me and be on my way, when I exhaled and saw the newest, youngest, and most handsome employee to our department, a grant writer, walk in behind the former VP of recruitment and retention. He looked at me like I was completely disgusting, as if I had just thrown up on his shoes. Shit. Oops. Behind him, two custodians were staring at me in confusion but curiosity. I still thought that I was right, that he had no right to accuse me of spying on him. I thought that if I continued to stand my ground, the new grant writer would see my side of it. What the fuck was he doing here on a Saturday anyway? “Don’t ever accuse me of anything like that again!” I yelled and waved my finger in the air accusatory, although it was pointing straight up as though I were about to do some kind of 1920’s dance, as I turned around and walked out of the door, which slammed behind me on its own due to its heavy construction. I was flushed, but now relief was overcoming me. I walked toward the parking lot with a head full of questions, I sent a text to my coworker which said, “I just yelled my lungs off at the fired VP, I’m going to get sued!” It made me feel a little bit better.
Welcome!
This is my short story, creative posting blog.
Thanks so much for visiting and reading. I hope to update often and keep people entertained.
L
Thanks so much for visiting and reading. I hope to update often and keep people entertained.
L
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