Brash howls the nighthawk

Brash howls the nighthawk. Thin branches bend in a penitent way. Night sets in an unforgiving fashion. Fall asleep at the wheel while indigo visions tunnel me blind. We are never far from our true nature despite evidence to the contrary. Drama manuals are drawn up on crisp white linen sheets. Bedstead rules break while wearing maroon fingernail polish. Your sex is distracting me from ending things between us. Pylon pieces smash upon the hearthstone. If you happen to pass my life on the street, grab her and drag her home. I believe in terrible ghosts from strange places and the paper monsters that dangle from string. Your frailty skim my hands and I believe in my foolishness to make you burst into laughter. If you look out the window, a hovel burns down the stretch with licking flames. Your departure has left careless marks against my questions. Snail-slouching murmurs gather where raindrops have pooled. A metallic taste lingers on the tongue when there is talk of kinship. Thoughts hunker down; silence floats freely along an undercurrent.

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My thoughts:
One of the things I've been contemplating is the fine line between short versus long poems. This piece is an experiment of taking lines from shorter pieces and mixing them up together. Lewis gave me some decent feedback about the prose poems I submitted and I find the way these lines mash-up against each other working in a way I hadn't thought before. So if you recognize lines from earlier drafts you know why. Poets recycle, recycle, recycle to mine those gems.

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All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

06.16.09

Ai-ya-ya-ya

Two more weeks left of summer session classes...
two more books to read...
one more 2-page journal entry to write...
one more creative piece to muster up...
6 more writing center sessions...
and then I'm off.
I mean completely free to work on my thesis.
Hoorah!
I'm sure I'll whinge away at being bored in a couple of weeks but for right now...
2 more weeks is my light at the end of the tunnel.

Tunnel me blind baby!


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All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.

06.01.09

I've gotten home at the very early hour of 3:33 pm in the afternoon.
Lying on my belly on my bed as I write this freewrite.

Pandora is gnawing on the leathery parts of my black suede sneakers and I'm just not stopping her. She wants me to feed her.

I found a sunny spot in the Writing Center to do some journal writing...summers are slow, we've had three students in two weeks. I enjoy the hushed tones of the place. The quiet space to think and write.

Bleu is in his room strumming chords on his guitar and I can hear the children in the backyard yell and roar and cry as they play. Mami and Magdelena are chatting in Spanish while they keep an eye on the kids. Mami sings to them "suve a mi moto" didn't Menudo sing that song?

My 5.30 date with S. has been cancelled so I'm here trying to rev myself up to do work / start homework / do some reading / write some poetry / work on a scene for my playwriting group / clean my desk / write out my to-do list or at least figure out what needs to go on a to-do list.

What I'd rather be doing is chat with Sam, watch back episodes of Eureka on Hulu, go to the beach, go for a swim, go for a walk, listen to music, sleep, hmmmm.

So I lie here on my belly...watching the clock tick tick tick away. Why do I feel like I'm running out of time?



All artwork, photos, and text © Copyright 2008-2009 Liliana Almendarez unless indicated otherwise. All Rights Reserved. Any downloading, copying or use of images on this website is strictly prohibited without express written consent by Liliana Almendarez.