Category: Poetic Detritus

On Ice

There’s an episode of “Friends” in which one of the characters is so frightened by a Stephen King novel that the book has to be put in the freezer. A friend of mine told me recently that they threw a copy of “The Shining” into the desert because it bothered them that much. While I myself am not a great Stephen King fan per se, I’ve been reading one of his books and I’ve come to the point where I think it needs to go into the freezer. Only it isn’t a horror novel at all. It’s “On Writing” which is part advice manual, part autobiographical epistle and overall a very sincere and insightful bit of nonfiction. But the postscript, or rather the idea of it, is terrifying me a bit. It’s about his accident. And I know I should read it. I have a feeling it would be good for me to read it. But I’m kind of scared to. So I think I’m going to put the book in the freezer for just a little while.

Amnesiac Lover

Baby’s an amnesiac

and never ever calls you back

you could die tonight of a heart attack

amnesiac lover

would never discover

might confuse you with another

tells the same stories

tells the same stories

tells the same stories

a hundred times a day

Elwood and I are gettting the band back together…

“I’m gonna ask you the question people always ask me…what do you do?

Show me don’t tell me. Send me something you’ve written (fiction, poetics, obscenely verbose ranting, I don’t care) or digital photos or scanned art or some music you’ve recorded or whatever else you do that’s creative other than things of a tactile or aromatic nature. We’re creating something here. We’re on a mission from god. We’re reviving my frustrated literary editor ambitions and giving the lot of you an audience and a forum all at the same time. It’ll be Punk, it’ll be diverse, it’ll be cool. I’m calling it Spitegeist. Send me some things to put in it. I’ll post the link when the inaugural version is ready to go live. Then I’ll feel important:)

That is all,

Corbid

Laborday Blues (detritus)

Half drunk still, he lurked in the shadows and I stood in the doorway and he said I looked like Tori Amos “in a cool and beautiful way” but the camera had a low battery so this can be neither confirmed nor denied. Still I felt the need to preserve it for posterity. Vain and selfish creature that I am. Sometimes men who you know don’t love you are the ones who are most complimentary. And certainly you can trust them more. But holy fuck I’d have paid good money to hear a thing like that. Last week I found my keys and the remote control and I felt as if I’d won the lottery. I am a woman of simple delights. Every day, when I fail to wake up dead, I am grateful, except on the days that I wish I was dead which are thankfully sporadic in number mostly. Life is a mess but such a happy chaotic mess all the same. Love is what radiates from my girls’ rosy faces and lights up their eyes.Sweetness is a name for refusing to let the assholes that make up the general population get you down. Politics are overrunning my television. Fuck the fucking fascist regime. Vive le France and God Save The Queen and there’s no future and England’s dreaming. Vive le revolution. The answer my friend is blowing in the wind. Just vote and vote justly. I am a simple woman of simple joys but I’ll be damned if I sign my rights away to the corporate oligarchy this November. It’s labor day. Which means. Respect the working man! Fight for justice! Support your fellow man! It was never meant to be a day of picnics and white sales. Read Michael Moore today or listen to Jello Biafra or register to vote. Do something, damnit! It’s not too late (says the eternal optimist…)Just. Do it. Right Now.

thank you and good night

Argue amongst yourselves

And who was she in some other incarnation?

Friend,lover,sister,mother or mortal enemy?

Seems strange still you haven’t known each other lifetimes

Strange but true

And who

is she now?

Lifesucking vampire?

Bright,sweet muse?

Thorn in your precious side?

Nothing if not constant

Yours for the taking

Yet always out of reach

You say so much in silences

You say too much in silences

Say too much in words and the world falls down

A heart on a sleeve

is just another piece of meat

so fresh and bleeding and bittersweet

Serve it up with fillet of soul

on the heirloom china

with parsely butter and a wedge of lemon

Lay out the priceless silver and the fine linens

Coyote shall dine like a king tonight

Wide Eyed Enthusiasm

Saw the constellation of Orion through a belt of lavendar clouds in a clear sky last night. Remembered being a child fascinated with the stars. Want to find a way to get that sense of wonder and awe back into my life.

Moonpoem #2

My moonlight was weightless

it bore me aloft

knew my sadness before it had a name

left me sleepless and awaiting answers

from one who slept days away in paralell madness

Lunacy is the goddess’ kiss

her mark upon your brow

alien and strange

She brings you words you must be rid of

and dreams you cannot shake

and showers you in broken glass

as you drift back into oblivion

And if I am an ocean wave poised to drown you…step back and listen for my voice in seashells…