Elise
Elysium
Elysian Fields
Champs- Elysees
The abode of the blessed
After death
Telescopically
A place of ideal happiness
(or a condition)
A dwelling place
Assigned to happy souls
After death
Paradise
Elusion – evasion
The act of avoiding capture
(especially by cunning)
Slip
Elude – to escape
The understanding, perception of
Appreciation of.
Speed cleverness trickery
Eluder
Eludette
Grasp of
Circumvent parry skirt dodge
Duck sidestep
Dodge – to shade from
Exposure for a period
Prevaricate
To straddle something
Collude with an opponent’s advocate
To act together
A secret understanding
Unison
Tandem
The Verificationist
“…from our own and each other’s inevitable and final abandonment.”
Thursday, September 14, 2006
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Turds and Walnuts
A lump of waste:
that’s what you are.
a Vidalia curry after coagulation
settled after the simmer
I hate a cold dinner
A slothful walnut is
what you’ll become.
You may have ornamental timber
personality
But you’re skin will wrinkled
& you'll shed every year
& you’ll be but a seed
for the people who turn from turds
to chump nuts.
*great research poems coming along ;)
that’s what you are.
a Vidalia curry after coagulation
settled after the simmer
I hate a cold dinner
A slothful walnut is
what you’ll become.
You may have ornamental timber
personality
But you’re skin will wrinkled
& you'll shed every year
& you’ll be but a seed
for the people who turn from turds
to chump nuts.
*great research poems coming along ;)
Thursday, August 24, 2006
Roll no Rocks
This past weekend has brought together many elements of Colorado that I have yet to fully indulge in. It was David’s last weekend here in Boulder, USA so we decided to hike one of the infamous 14ers. We chose the second deadliest mountain to begin our exploration of the world above cloud-line: Longs Peak.
We planned on camping up in Rocky Mountain Nat’l Forest the night before and then beginning out trek straight from the tent. It was raining and storming Friday night so we delayed our departure time and made the half an hour drive early Saturday morning.
By early, I mean eaaaaarrrrly. We woke up at 1:30 am, went to a 7-11 (still packed with Pearl Street bar go-ers) and headed up to Nederland to take the Peak to Peak Highway to the mountain. We bounced around and sang along to Bluegrass music and drank some wonderfully fresh convenience store coffee. Equipped with one bad-ass flashlight and backpacks full of water food and raingear, we started our ascent in the pitch black of night/morning: 3:05 am.
The hike was a steady winding trail through the forest for about 2.5 miles. The trees slowly disappeared until we reached a sign reading “Alpine Tundra: Please stay on trail” which meant we were above tree-line. The sun rose just as we got in a bicker about who would hold the flashlight and where that person should walk, as if to say “Stop quarreling over light; I will lead the way.”
Long Longs hike story short: we kicked ass past the tundra, Boulder Field, keyhole, trough, narrows, scary-exposed-slippery-on-the-side-of-a-mountain section and up the final “homestretch” and made it to the summit at 10:00 am. The homestretch is a full out mountain climb at about a 70 degree angle (would be my guess). Basically, this portion was the “if you slip, you fall off the mountain into the abyss” section. My all around reaction to climbing Longs Peak via the Keyhole Route is this: at each turn, the ascent gets slightly scarier and more difficult, as if preparing you for each next step. I found myself turning each corner and literally saying out loud “Fuck.” But then you do it and once you’ve done it, you figure you can step up your game a notch for the next part.
The sun rising behind the clouds (that are below us- we are at Alpine Tundra).
Fog moving over Boulder Field. Looks like the moon.
View of the Keyhole from Boulder Field.
The large crater we would fall into if we fall off the Narrows.
David on top of Longs Peak. Roll no rocks.
That’s my Longs Peak impression.
We also went to the Planet Bluegrass Folk Festival in Lyons, CO on Sunday. Moira Smiley, Martyn Joseph, Paul Kelly, Assembly of Dust, Andrew Bird, Martin Sexton and Ani DiFranco. Need I say more?
We began the day with a taste of Cajun Kitchen at Lucille's in Boulder. We had cajun donuts and crazy big biscuits. Not to mention Hank's Eggs- yum.
As for the fest- New Belgium ran the beer tent and there was a creek nearby where people waded around and created rock structures. There were hula hoop contests and songwriting competitions going on all day. There were gyros and sweet potato fries. I saw a few Naropa friends. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Skinny Dip beer. It sprinkled a bit. Nearly the entire crowd saw a shooting meteor fly across the mountain backdrop of the stage in between Martin Sexton and Ani’s act. Ani played Gravel. It was an all around fun-loving, relaxing festival. ☺
pictures coming soon...
We planned on camping up in Rocky Mountain Nat’l Forest the night before and then beginning out trek straight from the tent. It was raining and storming Friday night so we delayed our departure time and made the half an hour drive early Saturday morning.
By early, I mean eaaaaarrrrly. We woke up at 1:30 am, went to a 7-11 (still packed with Pearl Street bar go-ers) and headed up to Nederland to take the Peak to Peak Highway to the mountain. We bounced around and sang along to Bluegrass music and drank some wonderfully fresh convenience store coffee. Equipped with one bad-ass flashlight and backpacks full of water food and raingear, we started our ascent in the pitch black of night/morning: 3:05 am.
The hike was a steady winding trail through the forest for about 2.5 miles. The trees slowly disappeared until we reached a sign reading “Alpine Tundra: Please stay on trail” which meant we were above tree-line. The sun rose just as we got in a bicker about who would hold the flashlight and where that person should walk, as if to say “Stop quarreling over light; I will lead the way.”
Long Longs hike story short: we kicked ass past the tundra, Boulder Field, keyhole, trough, narrows, scary-exposed-slippery-on-the-side-of-a-mountain section and up the final “homestretch” and made it to the summit at 10:00 am. The homestretch is a full out mountain climb at about a 70 degree angle (would be my guess). Basically, this portion was the “if you slip, you fall off the mountain into the abyss” section. My all around reaction to climbing Longs Peak via the Keyhole Route is this: at each turn, the ascent gets slightly scarier and more difficult, as if preparing you for each next step. I found myself turning each corner and literally saying out loud “Fuck.” But then you do it and once you’ve done it, you figure you can step up your game a notch for the next part.
The sun rising behind the clouds (that are below us- we are at Alpine Tundra).
Fog moving over Boulder Field. Looks like the moon.
View of the Keyhole from Boulder Field.
The large crater we would fall into if we fall off the Narrows.
David on top of Longs Peak. Roll no rocks.That’s my Longs Peak impression.
We also went to the Planet Bluegrass Folk Festival in Lyons, CO on Sunday. Moira Smiley, Martyn Joseph, Paul Kelly, Assembly of Dust, Andrew Bird, Martin Sexton and Ani DiFranco. Need I say more?
We began the day with a taste of Cajun Kitchen at Lucille's in Boulder. We had cajun donuts and crazy big biscuits. Not to mention Hank's Eggs- yum.
As for the fest- New Belgium ran the beer tent and there was a creek nearby where people waded around and created rock structures. There were hula hoop contests and songwriting competitions going on all day. There were gyros and sweet potato fries. I saw a few Naropa friends. We ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with Skinny Dip beer. It sprinkled a bit. Nearly the entire crowd saw a shooting meteor fly across the mountain backdrop of the stage in between Martin Sexton and Ani’s act. Ani played Gravel. It was an all around fun-loving, relaxing festival. ☺
pictures coming soon...
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
Blogconsolidation
A good blogger friend of mine has recently chosen to stray from poetic nonsense and purely use his blog as a web log of daily events/reactions/thoughts. I thought this a good idea, so I'm going to test the murky waters that are true blogging.
---
I have recently moved up into the foot of the mountains in Boulder Colorado and the shift has brought about many new dailies. I now have to fear smashing my bike into a deer while riding to work at 4:30 am. The sun has still not arisen whenever I make my way to wonderful One Boulder Plaza, but I see a vast sky of stars and the moon is usually just sinking over the flatirons to my right. It makes for a beautiful view, but an unsafe one at that.
On my way home today, I was coasting down the large hill that falls from Mapleton to Alpine on 4th street. I usually use this quick drift to make it up the next ascent. Today, there were kids curving all over the road so I couldn't quite make speed. As I stood up to trek up the last piece of uphill, a swarm of gnats hit me. They entered every orifice in my face and I gasped, blinked and nearly sneezed. I stopped my bike and simultaneously coughed and rubbed my eyes free from gnats. As I regained vision I looked up to see a garbage truck driver staring at me kind of smiling. I think he had previously knowledge of the gnat pack.
Although the gnats are usually nothing but a nuisance, the deer can be fun. As David and I were hanging out in my room one afternoon we heard a rustle outside the window. We peered over the high windowsill and saw a preteen bambi sniffing our neighbor's tree. He looked over at us for a while until he was bored with the faces we were making at him and went back to chewing random plants.
Mt. Sanitas rocks.
---
I have recently moved up into the foot of the mountains in Boulder Colorado and the shift has brought about many new dailies. I now have to fear smashing my bike into a deer while riding to work at 4:30 am. The sun has still not arisen whenever I make my way to wonderful One Boulder Plaza, but I see a vast sky of stars and the moon is usually just sinking over the flatirons to my right. It makes for a beautiful view, but an unsafe one at that.
On my way home today, I was coasting down the large hill that falls from Mapleton to Alpine on 4th street. I usually use this quick drift to make it up the next ascent. Today, there were kids curving all over the road so I couldn't quite make speed. As I stood up to trek up the last piece of uphill, a swarm of gnats hit me. They entered every orifice in my face and I gasped, blinked and nearly sneezed. I stopped my bike and simultaneously coughed and rubbed my eyes free from gnats. As I regained vision I looked up to see a garbage truck driver staring at me kind of smiling. I think he had previously knowledge of the gnat pack.
Although the gnats are usually nothing but a nuisance, the deer can be fun. As David and I were hanging out in my room one afternoon we heard a rustle outside the window. We peered over the high windowsill and saw a preteen bambi sniffing our neighbor's tree. He looked over at us for a while until he was bored with the faces we were making at him and went back to chewing random plants.
Mt. Sanitas rocks.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Untitled (for now)
A tree, shaven from wind & season,
sheds its bark onto
those below
The trunk, thick with
curves & ridges in its
sharp skin bark,
scrapes my delicate
ankle skin as I pass
a bit too close
But it heals, the cut,
placed so close to the
Achilles heel
The places more prone
to scarring are
the knuckles, the knees
the heart.
sheds its bark onto
those below
The trunk, thick with
curves & ridges in its
sharp skin bark,
scrapes my delicate
ankle skin as I pass
a bit too close
But it heals, the cut,
placed so close to the
Achilles heel
The places more prone
to scarring are
the knuckles, the knees
the heart.
Friday, July 21, 2006
Thursday, July 20, 2006
Dear Bloggees
I will be taking a month hiatus from posting my hasty poetry.
Why?- you ask?
I decided I need to quit effing around and get serious with what I write about.
Also- when I post these things, I kinda just move on and never edit and never attempt to better em.
I will be working on research poems. If you would like to know what these are, please comment.
Joint blogs will continue through this lengthened poetry-writing lacuna.
Woop!
Why?- you ask?
I decided I need to quit effing around and get serious with what I write about.
Also- when I post these things, I kinda just move on and never edit and never attempt to better em.
I will be working on research poems. If you would like to know what these are, please comment.
Joint blogs will continue through this lengthened poetry-writing lacuna.
Woop!
Sunday, July 16, 2006
Blogger Propaganda
Stephanie and I are proud to announce the introduction of our two new children (born a few days apart; fraternal) into the cyber world.
These are collaborative efforts.
get with it people
comment!
These are collaborative efforts.
get with it people
comment!
Saturday, July 15, 2006
Why are yawns contagious?
Contagion
Con tangere
Together with
the touch
Against
The opposite and adjacent
Contagious
Communicable
Spread of things
Good or bad
such as laughter or merriment
or yawning
Contagiousness
To spread and affect
With or without contact
Infectious
Transmission
Through the environment
Influence
Extend
I watched a yawn wave crash over the audience of poets and prose writers today.
Yawn
To open one’s mouth
Gaping
To open one’s mouth
Wide open
Deep Huge
Great!
Reflexive act
of opening one’s mouth
Action
Reaction
To open one’s mouth
and inhale
To open one’s mouth
Involuntary
Inherently empathetic
and aware
Said to be an action that circulates
Through nearby bystanders
Who want to understand the human condition
And therefore, subconsciously, try out the act.
Con tangere
Together with
the touch
Against
The opposite and adjacent
Contagious
Communicable
Spread of things
Good or bad
such as laughter or merriment
or yawning
Contagiousness
To spread and affect
With or without contact
Infectious
Transmission
Through the environment
Influence
Extend
I watched a yawn wave crash over the audience of poets and prose writers today.
Yawn
To open one’s mouth
Gaping
To open one’s mouth
Wide open
Deep Huge
Great!
Reflexive act
of opening one’s mouth
Action
Reaction
To open one’s mouth
and inhale
To open one’s mouth
Involuntary
Inherently empathetic
and aware
Said to be an action that circulates
Through nearby bystanders
Who want to understand the human condition
And therefore, subconsciously, try out the act.
Picaresque: A ship's soul survivors
When two colors collide
Instinct draws September
You were amongst brown eyes
& orange saris, bracelets, curry
for months
You arrived back in New York
In the night
When I saw you first, I shifted
on the concrete steps
I approached you, touched
Soft cotton, orange om shirt
For a few rupees, I imagined
We met up later at the
Soup & Burger on W 8th street
Each ordered a pound of meat
and spoke in soft tones about
harsh things
discordant themes of reverie
You said it felt different
You said: “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I nodded either up of left
I can’t exactly recall
But I do distinctly remember
the fall of the tear onto the pickle
caste aside.
It has occupied my mind
for some time now.
We paid the bill then made our way
South toward Washington Square Park
Where we found a dark corner on the north
that had a momentarily abandoned bench
It was quiet there.
We kept our talk about the
Summer, the year.
You, back in South Louisiana
Me, back to Brooklyn soon
“It’s distance and unassuredness
It seems absurd
It snaps the branch of us,
In a sense”
A bough already bent
-haunting sailor-esque musical interlude lead by mandolin accordian and tuba-
I buried my face into your
Orange shirt, shifted one hand
inside your left pocket,
holding.
You joked about how she was
wearing brown and orange to
The Conan show; just like you
Completely missing my new brown skirt
My shirt, a saffron hue.
I cried into your shoulder
Sobbing slobbering shaking
We sat, you then rested your head
against my lap and took a nap.
I listened to the song
“The Mariner’s Revenge”
and stared.
:In this belly of a whale
I:t’s ribs are ceiling beams
Y:ou may not remember me
He:r sheets still warm with him
To :keep their vestry nice and neat
The: prior exchanging words
The :following day
Ther:e is one thing I must say to you
To lea:n in close and I will whisper:
Instinct draws September
You were amongst brown eyes
& orange saris, bracelets, curry
for months
You arrived back in New York
In the night
When I saw you first, I shifted
on the concrete steps
I approached you, touched
Soft cotton, orange om shirt
For a few rupees, I imagined
We met up later at the
Soup & Burger on W 8th street
Each ordered a pound of meat
and spoke in soft tones about
harsh things
discordant themes of reverie
You said it felt different
You said: “You feel it too, don’t you?”
I nodded either up of left
I can’t exactly recall
But I do distinctly remember
the fall of the tear onto the pickle
caste aside.
It has occupied my mind
for some time now.
We paid the bill then made our way
South toward Washington Square Park
Where we found a dark corner on the north
that had a momentarily abandoned bench
It was quiet there.
We kept our talk about the
Summer, the year.
You, back in South Louisiana
Me, back to Brooklyn soon
“It’s distance and unassuredness
It seems absurd
It snaps the branch of us,
In a sense”
A bough already bent
-haunting sailor-esque musical interlude lead by mandolin accordian and tuba-
I buried my face into your
Orange shirt, shifted one hand
inside your left pocket,
holding.
You joked about how she was
wearing brown and orange to
The Conan show; just like you
Completely missing my new brown skirt
My shirt, a saffron hue.
I cried into your shoulder
Sobbing slobbering shaking
We sat, you then rested your head
against my lap and took a nap.
I listened to the song
“The Mariner’s Revenge”
and stared.
:In this belly of a whale
I:t’s ribs are ceiling beams
Y:ou may not remember me
He:r sheets still warm with him
To :keep their vestry nice and neat
The: prior exchanging words
The :following day
Ther:e is one thing I must say to you
To lea:n in close and I will whisper:
Naropa is...
This was a pass-around assignment where everyone in the class would write Naropa is... (fill in blank)... then pass it to the next student. In the end, we had 17 lists of Naropa is's. A selection:
Naropa is a lunch box
Naropa is open to nudity, unlike CU
Naropa is a temporarily ridiculous zone
Naropa is the audience for my ridiculous zone
Naropa is magnolia blossom, red & pink
Naropa is wilting
Naropa is the beginning of the end
Naropa is the paper cut on Charlotte's arm from the paper I'm shoving at her
Naropa cut me!
A naropian wasp stung me!
Naropa is not afraid of the pain.
Naropa is totally throwing off my gaydar
Naropa is full of hot women that might be gay
Naropa is my aphrodisiac
Naropa is transgendered bathrooms at the library
Naropa is into tantric things
Narops is a small aquatic fox of southern New Guinea
Naropa is skid-marks on the stranger sitting next to you's underwear
Naropa is kinda gross, at times
Naropa is stronger than dirt
Naropa is going to Cuba
Naropa is going to kiss Fidel
Naropa is Fidel
Naropa Naropa
Naropa is a good place to fuck post-emo, post-modern, post hippie Buddhist-questioning men
Naropa is about fucking the minds of the mono-culture fascists, with compassion
Naropa is extremely simple when you stop thinking
Naropa is the square root of infinity haw haw
Naropa is star tattoooooooooooo
Naropa is shooooooooooooting star
Naropa is one of the strangest places to be drunk and rambling in half-poetry, half non-sense
Naropa is the perfect place to be drunk and rambling in half-poetry, half non-sense
Naropa is drunk rambling poetry non-sense
Naropa is sober, concise and imperfect
Naropa is an AA meeting for drunks on poetry
Naropa doesn't take into account Tequila happy hour
Naropa is Tequila happy hour
Naropa is drunk today, definitely staggering
Naropa spends hours in the personal ads searching for a sensative love who likes eating meat
Naropa is without speedlimit
Naropa isn't
Naropa is calling to me in my sleep
Naropa is wonderful onderful nderful derful erful rful ful ul l
Naropa is a deep hand-print on your left breast reast east ast st t
Naropa is shaken, not stirred
Naropa is full of sea-shll sculptures
Naropa is the water bottle in the mesh pocket of my life's bag
Naropa is a place where bottles of water are also a form of currency
Naropa is a place where I currently
Naropa really has to pee
Naropa is beckoning
Naropa is a curled up yoga mat next to an esoteric gong
Naropa is contemplating her navel
Naropa is probably an exit maneuver
Naropa is a mechanical pencil in the hands of a three year old
Naropa is where "first thought, best thought" often means "shut up and drink that"
Naropa is my second thought and definitely not my best thought
Naropa is the process of wanting a drink of water, knowing you'll get it, but not yet
Naropa is breath in a gas-mask world
Naropa is a fart in a windstorm
Naropa is splat, ho hum
Naropa is a single eyelash floating down the length of a singularly sexy body- and we all are watching it
Naropa is the fart in car with all the windows up and no exit strategy
Naropa is not the present perfect of the verb "to run"
Naropa is orange, silver and saffron
Naropa doesn't rhyme
Naropa dances aerovoka
Naropa is a vote without chads
Naropa is currently engaged in a testicle comparing contest with Chuck Norris
Naropa's balls of metaphor and anti-matter
Naropa is the capital of chai
Naropa is a small oddball college in Colorado with a Buddhist orientation
Naropa is sequoia tree shavings playing swords with themselves
Naropa is OW! a splinter
Naropa is a pain in the grass
Naropa is better left unspoken
Naropa is too good not to be false
Naropa is full of gov't spies!
Naropa is a cornflake in a cow's second stomach
Naropa is in need of a window washing
Naropa? Naropa, c'est moi.
Naropa is a chocolate cornflake shake in a dream with French subtitles
Naropa is the subtitles
Naropa speaks esperanto
Naropa is my favorite party favor
Naropa is drunk on petuli
Naropa is the last one out of the oxygen bar
Naropa is a disembodied institution of Higher learning
Naropa is a disembowled institution of higher scaffolding
Is Naropian a word?
Naropa is open 24/7
Naropa is an alternate reality, resonating with Yoda
Naropa is free of marmots
Naropa ist nicht ein Schnitzelbank, und auch nicht meine Tante Maria
Naropa is a mustache kiss inside my brain
Naropa is NOT two wings on the same vampire bat!
Naropa is experiencing sexual tension
Naropa is aporan, backwards
Naropa is aporan forwards
Naropa can spell the female version of a porno: a porna
Naropa is much much more than 30 acres and a mule
Naropa means "no clothes" in spanish
Naropa is climbing up a totem pole, naked
Naropa is clilmbing on the scaffolding, naked
Naropa is nuked by naked Maoist
Naropa is Ricky Lake... naked
Naropa is a place with more "thank you for not smoking" signs than smokers
Naropa is the thank you on the smoking sign
Naropa is lacking rubber chickens
Naropa has a crack
Naropa is free bicycles
Naropa is forming an itch on the back of my brain
Naropa is like a rock; just do it
Naropa is perhaps, but then again, maybe not
Naropa is egg whites, soy
Naropa is levitating
Naropa is not cheese, definitely NOT cheese
Naropa is Christ's hot vacation spot
Naropa is allah's bakery
Naropa is a bar of oatmeal hemp soap
Naropa is the land where the cheese has slid off the cracker
Naropa is baby, baby, kiss me softly in the moonlight, baby, oh I croon for you, sweet oh honey, love ya sweet hon, kiss me, yeah.
Naropa is hilthy, deppie, quild and weir
Naropa is aerating your next door neighbor
Naropa is my favorite color.
Naropa is a lunch box
Naropa is open to nudity, unlike CU
Naropa is a temporarily ridiculous zone
Naropa is the audience for my ridiculous zone
Naropa is magnolia blossom, red & pink
Naropa is wilting
Naropa is the beginning of the end
Naropa is the paper cut on Charlotte's arm from the paper I'm shoving at her
Naropa cut me!
A naropian wasp stung me!
Naropa is not afraid of the pain.
Naropa is totally throwing off my gaydar
Naropa is full of hot women that might be gay
Naropa is my aphrodisiac
Naropa is transgendered bathrooms at the library
Naropa is into tantric things
Narops is a small aquatic fox of southern New Guinea
Naropa is skid-marks on the stranger sitting next to you's underwear
Naropa is kinda gross, at times
Naropa is stronger than dirt
Naropa is going to Cuba
Naropa is going to kiss Fidel
Naropa is Fidel
Naropa Naropa
Naropa is a good place to fuck post-emo, post-modern, post hippie Buddhist-questioning men
Naropa is about fucking the minds of the mono-culture fascists, with compassion
Naropa is extremely simple when you stop thinking
Naropa is the square root of infinity haw haw
Naropa is star tattoooooooooooo
Naropa is shooooooooooooting star
Naropa is one of the strangest places to be drunk and rambling in half-poetry, half non-sense
Naropa is the perfect place to be drunk and rambling in half-poetry, half non-sense
Naropa is drunk rambling poetry non-sense
Naropa is sober, concise and imperfect
Naropa is an AA meeting for drunks on poetry
Naropa doesn't take into account Tequila happy hour
Naropa is Tequila happy hour
Naropa is drunk today, definitely staggering
Naropa spends hours in the personal ads searching for a sensative love who likes eating meat
Naropa is without speedlimit
Naropa isn't
Naropa is calling to me in my sleep
Naropa is wonderful onderful nderful derful erful rful ful ul l
Naropa is a deep hand-print on your left breast reast east ast st t
Naropa is shaken, not stirred
Naropa is full of sea-shll sculptures
Naropa is the water bottle in the mesh pocket of my life's bag
Naropa is a place where bottles of water are also a form of currency
Naropa is a place where I currently
Naropa really has to pee
Naropa is beckoning
Naropa is a curled up yoga mat next to an esoteric gong
Naropa is contemplating her navel
Naropa is probably an exit maneuver
Naropa is a mechanical pencil in the hands of a three year old
Naropa is where "first thought, best thought" often means "shut up and drink that"
Naropa is my second thought and definitely not my best thought
Naropa is the process of wanting a drink of water, knowing you'll get it, but not yet
Naropa is breath in a gas-mask world
Naropa is a fart in a windstorm
Naropa is splat, ho hum
Naropa is a single eyelash floating down the length of a singularly sexy body- and we all are watching it
Naropa is the fart in car with all the windows up and no exit strategy
Naropa is not the present perfect of the verb "to run"
Naropa is orange, silver and saffron
Naropa doesn't rhyme
Naropa dances aerovoka
Naropa is a vote without chads
Naropa is currently engaged in a testicle comparing contest with Chuck Norris
Naropa's balls of metaphor and anti-matter
Naropa is the capital of chai
Naropa is a small oddball college in Colorado with a Buddhist orientation
Naropa is sequoia tree shavings playing swords with themselves
Naropa is OW! a splinter
Naropa is a pain in the grass
Naropa is better left unspoken
Naropa is too good not to be false
Naropa is full of gov't spies!
Naropa is a cornflake in a cow's second stomach
Naropa is in need of a window washing
Naropa? Naropa, c'est moi.
Naropa is a chocolate cornflake shake in a dream with French subtitles
Naropa is the subtitles
Naropa speaks esperanto
Naropa is my favorite party favor
Naropa is drunk on petuli
Naropa is the last one out of the oxygen bar
Naropa is a disembodied institution of Higher learning
Naropa is a disembowled institution of higher scaffolding
Is Naropian a word?
Naropa is open 24/7
Naropa is an alternate reality, resonating with Yoda
Naropa is free of marmots
Naropa ist nicht ein Schnitzelbank, und auch nicht meine Tante Maria
Naropa is a mustache kiss inside my brain
Naropa is NOT two wings on the same vampire bat!
Naropa is experiencing sexual tension
Naropa is aporan, backwards
Naropa is aporan forwards
Naropa can spell the female version of a porno: a porna
Naropa is much much more than 30 acres and a mule
Naropa means "no clothes" in spanish
Naropa is climbing up a totem pole, naked
Naropa is clilmbing on the scaffolding, naked
Naropa is nuked by naked Maoist
Naropa is Ricky Lake... naked
Naropa is a place with more "thank you for not smoking" signs than smokers
Naropa is the thank you on the smoking sign
Naropa is lacking rubber chickens
Naropa has a crack
Naropa is free bicycles
Naropa is forming an itch on the back of my brain
Naropa is like a rock; just do it
Naropa is perhaps, but then again, maybe not
Naropa is egg whites, soy
Naropa is levitating
Naropa is not cheese, definitely NOT cheese
Naropa is Christ's hot vacation spot
Naropa is allah's bakery
Naropa is a bar of oatmeal hemp soap
Naropa is the land where the cheese has slid off the cracker
Naropa is baby, baby, kiss me softly in the moonlight, baby, oh I croon for you, sweet oh honey, love ya sweet hon, kiss me, yeah.
Naropa is hilthy, deppie, quild and weir
Naropa is aerating your next door neighbor
Naropa is my favorite color.
A horizontal underground stem that often sends out roots and shoots from its nodes.
Flood of recourse
Staging presence
Mexican tequila
Evanescent week
Dark grey bracelet
Steel flavored sheets
Studio makeshift
Rent too deep
Enter the poem
Basement window ajar
Four pronged socket
Plugged up clock
Missing light switch
Happy hour Sangria
Heating up belly
Curdling squirrel poop
Shaving of sycamore
Sword fights poke
Shine desperate moon
Mountain overlap
Rhizomatic word.
Staging presence
Mexican tequila
Evanescent week
Dark grey bracelet
Steel flavored sheets
Studio makeshift
Rent too deep
Enter the poem
Basement window ajar
Four pronged socket
Plugged up clock
Missing light switch
Happy hour Sangria
Heating up belly
Curdling squirrel poop
Shaving of sycamore
Sword fights poke
Shine desperate moon
Mountain overlap
Rhizomatic word.
Chelsea sparked the Suub
She touched the car hood
And created an alarming sound
Instead of shock
She backed right up
And started to dance around.
And created an alarming sound
Instead of shock
She backed right up
And started to dance around.
Friday, July 14, 2006
Dulcinea
The auto-pilot knows her best
A paroxysm of quixotic electro-shock blues
entangles you into
the mysterious production of eggs.
She’s stereopathetic soulmanure:
A pale coil of stamps
a rift in the perforated edges
She’s an audit in Our World’s Divorce
We have the facts and we’re voting “yes;”
Escape these paegan terrorist attacks through
chutes too narrow.
Which one’s you?
Have you fed the (acoustic) fish.
Have you fixed a comforting thought.
Show your bones, you Loup Garou!
“There’s No Body to Battle When Your Mind Is Your Might”
howls the Woman King.
It’s okay if you’re lost
It’s early A.M. when the clouds all taste metallic
when the motorcade of generosity
filters in like The Delivery Man
like a version of yourself
after the soma project has sunk in
after tears brim out of the vein
These are the strategic grill locations
These are the sketches for my sweetheart,
the drunken moonflower plastic twig
whose little spaces dilate
whose happiness is not a fish
you can catch.
Ruby Vroom,
She’ll capture you
She’ll drown you in an ass-pocket of whiskey
Deja-voo doo you
She courted a vintage burden
and love said “no”.
A paroxysm of quixotic electro-shock blues
entangles you into
the mysterious production of eggs.
She’s stereopathetic soulmanure:
A pale coil of stamps
a rift in the perforated edges
She’s an audit in Our World’s Divorce
We have the facts and we’re voting “yes;”
Escape these paegan terrorist attacks through
chutes too narrow.
Which one’s you?
Have you fed the (acoustic) fish.
Have you fixed a comforting thought.
Show your bones, you Loup Garou!
“There’s No Body to Battle When Your Mind Is Your Might”
howls the Woman King.
It’s okay if you’re lost
It’s early A.M. when the clouds all taste metallic
when the motorcade of generosity
filters in like The Delivery Man
like a version of yourself
after the soma project has sunk in
after tears brim out of the vein
These are the strategic grill locations
These are the sketches for my sweetheart,
the drunken moonflower plastic twig
whose little spaces dilate
whose happiness is not a fish
you can catch.
Ruby Vroom,
She’ll capture you
She’ll drown you in an ass-pocket of whiskey
Deja-voo doo you
She courted a vintage burden
and love said “no”.
Sunday, July 09, 2006
Leftovers
Candied Yams Macaroni Casserole
Combination of:
crushed croutons
a can of yams
mac n cheese
sprinkles of sugar
sprinkled mexican cheese
sliced ham
glass pan
Cook mac mix with
sliced ham then
slop in glass pan
Can of yams
cooked in juice
butter brown sugar
sprinkle mex-cheese &
crushed croutons on top
Bake for some minutes
(at whatever temperature
the oven was set to
however long you can wait)
to eat the candied yam mac-casserole
Has a casserole aroma
and a steady aftertaste.
Combination of:
crushed croutons
a can of yams
mac n cheese
sprinkles of sugar
sprinkled mexican cheese
sliced ham
glass pan
Cook mac mix with
sliced ham then
slop in glass pan
Can of yams
cooked in juice
butter brown sugar
sprinkle mex-cheese &
crushed croutons on top
Bake for some minutes
(at whatever temperature
the oven was set to
however long you can wait)
to eat the candied yam mac-casserole
Has a casserole aroma
and a steady aftertaste.
Wednesday, July 05, 2006
Life's a diversion. From what? You decide.
for Jen
The boy morphed into a clandestine gremlin with just a few swift movements:
He hopped behind a bush a few inches taller than he
and he bent his knees
and squinted his eyes
and scrunched his face,
as if the smaller he made his face, the smaller his body would appear,
(or disappear) behind the bush.
He peeked through the bending boughs on my left
but forgot to hide his white plastic butterfly catcher
so I whispered as I peered at him in my peripheral vision
“You can’t catch me-”
and at the break of my last vowel, I broke into a sprint
toward the main door.
The spontaneity of my scurry triggered a giggle from the bush.
I turned to see him standing, just barely to the side of the bush
An uneasy countenance surfaced about his abilities:
worried he hadn’t hidden well
I smiled and said “Maybe next time.”
The boy morphed into a clandestine gremlin with just a few swift movements:
He hopped behind a bush a few inches taller than he
and he bent his knees
and squinted his eyes
and scrunched his face,
as if the smaller he made his face, the smaller his body would appear,
(or disappear) behind the bush.
He peeked through the bending boughs on my left
but forgot to hide his white plastic butterfly catcher
so I whispered as I peered at him in my peripheral vision
“You can’t catch me-”
and at the break of my last vowel, I broke into a sprint
toward the main door.
The spontaneity of my scurry triggered a giggle from the bush.
I turned to see him standing, just barely to the side of the bush
An uneasy countenance surfaced about his abilities:
worried he hadn’t hidden well
I smiled and said “Maybe next time.”
Sunday, July 02, 2006
What's the acronym-ical sentence for TALK?
After a few five minute intervals
we sat on a bus bench
Him detached
Me in haste
We switched-
Me stare off
Him speculative.
Our volumes rose and fell
Quelled by an emerging ambulance
Siren erupts! from the air to ear
Closer, a reflection off the Mexican restaurant
Then quick shift in passing
Skirt flips, hands hold it down
Silents
We up and (I think) resolve
the moods.
He walks away for food.
Again, we hit the up/down switch
Again, ambivalent about.
we sat on a bus bench
Him detached
Me in haste
We switched-
Me stare off
Him speculative.
Our volumes rose and fell
Quelled by an emerging ambulance
Siren erupts! from the air to ear
Closer, a reflection off the Mexican restaurant
Then quick shift in passing
Skirt flips, hands hold it down
Silents
We up and (I think) resolve
the moods.
He walks away for food.
Again, we hit the up/down switch
Again, ambivalent about.
Naropa Update!
For all (three) of my blog readers:
We are heading into week 3 of the 4 week process that is Naropa's Summer Writing Program. Each week we meet on Monday with our MFA class and talk about readings we've done for all the professors and guest speakers that will be at Naropa in the upcoming week (usually about 15 extremely interesting and talented men and women).
Week 2 favorites included Lisa Jarnot, Rebecca Brown, Donald Preziosi, Laird Hunt, Akilah Oliver, Anne Waldman and Elizabeth Robinson. For a "get-you-thinking" assignment, we had to take one of these writer's texts and make a piece of art out of it. Now, the perimeters were loose, so we could do basically whatever we wanted with this assignment.
I took Donald Preziosi's text "Haunted by Things" from -Brain of the Earth's Body: Art, Museums, and the Phantasms of Modernity- and "magnified", if you will, certain words on the page to create a poem out of the words already presented on the page. Here is what it turned out to be: (looking much cooler ON the actual text)
a blend collision
intermix tion
delicate two opposing
passion
for the most part
is ART
which is
unfading
yet ephemeral by
the bouncing back of images
and usually in a time
not always
coincidental.
We are heading into week 3 of the 4 week process that is Naropa's Summer Writing Program. Each week we meet on Monday with our MFA class and talk about readings we've done for all the professors and guest speakers that will be at Naropa in the upcoming week (usually about 15 extremely interesting and talented men and women).
Week 2 favorites included Lisa Jarnot, Rebecca Brown, Donald Preziosi, Laird Hunt, Akilah Oliver, Anne Waldman and Elizabeth Robinson. For a "get-you-thinking" assignment, we had to take one of these writer's texts and make a piece of art out of it. Now, the perimeters were loose, so we could do basically whatever we wanted with this assignment.
I took Donald Preziosi's text "Haunted by Things" from -Brain of the Earth's Body: Art, Museums, and the Phantasms of Modernity- and "magnified", if you will, certain words on the page to create a poem out of the words already presented on the page. Here is what it turned out to be: (looking much cooler ON the actual text)
a blend collision
intermix tion
delicate two opposing
passion
for the most part
is ART
which is
unfading
yet ephemeral by
the bouncing back of images
and usually in a time
not always
coincidental.
Friday, June 30, 2006
Microphon-a-phobic
The dispersal of my voice all at once
to all your ears
Smother strangle your
Tube Eardrum Tympanum
Wrangling our beauty language
with acrimonious vibration.
“I apologize ahead of time -
I shouldn’t’ve put you through this”
Process slurry pronunciation of my words
Catatonic dissonance; I hear myself
being taped.
I taped myself at a young age
Played it back
Hated it.
to all your ears
Smother strangle your
Tube Eardrum Tympanum
Wrangling our beauty language
with acrimonious vibration.
“I apologize ahead of time -
I shouldn’t’ve put you through this”
Process slurry pronunciation of my words
Catatonic dissonance; I hear myself
being taped.
I taped myself at a young age
Played it back
Hated it.
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