New Job

My friend Crystal has reported today that she will get of prision in July of 2007. Please share in my excitment for her. She needs a normal job.

Realizations Running

Monday was very unusual. Tuesday has already begun and Monday hasn't really ended yet.

Some Recent Realizations: I run around a lot. I need to purchase coffee filters so I don't have to decide which days to drink coffee. I need more sleep. Sleeping might absolve need for coffee...probably not. I'm not a journalist; but I'm going to get published as one if it kills me. Likely not soon though. I need a week off. From everything. I need to write for a week. Everything. I need to go away. Far away. From you. Well, maybe not You because I think I've finally figured something out. But from everything. Just away. (Away! That sounds - impossible. Which means I should make it happen.) My fuses have shortened to a dangerous length; actually I don't think length should be associated with my fuses at all anymore, they are now just very very short. I drop things frequently and maybe the physical is a metaphor for something I don't understand. Something you can't either. I've started writing poems in my sleep but I don't have time to pen them anymore. I run around too much. I need a break. I might break if you're not careful - if I'm not careful. I'm always running. I apologize because I'm afraid people will leave. It's time for bed. Today will be a coffee day and then I will have two filters left.

Not Done

I'm not done with it. In fact I've only just begun it but this book has been a fun read so far. It's not a light read really. Likely not on the typical "just for fun" reading list for most.

It's really not a book to read unless you want to think about words. A lot. And the way it makes you think about them might drive you a little bonkers. Unless, like me, you're already there.

The author, Ms. Susan Wooldridge, who hypothesizes that her surname, "must have come from the image of lambs on a ridge," invites her readers into her head. A bit of a scary place, but one I'm learning that's not very dissimilar from my own. A little scattered perhaps but wondrously purposed.

Probably why I was attracted to the book when I came upon it in Borders a few months ago. Something about the title resonated with me. POEMCRAZY. "Why, yes, I think I am!" I thought out loud as I wrote down the isbn to get it cheaper from half.com. I was in the library in April (national poetry month) and there it was, displayed just for me to take home.

I feel like a cheater when I choose a book by the cover. The age-old adage about judging books by their outsides is certainly no way I'd want my writing selected. But on this one
there is a woman
leaping with ideas stuck
in her boss hat
that sails on the colorless wall
behind her head for the
want in her hand
she'd never taste settled
with squinty eyes that can't quite tell
where she'll end up

And when a cover of a book tells you all that after only reading one chapter, I'd have to say outsides and insides match up pretty well. If not the book shell and guts, than I guess I feel like my own are in good order. Let me assure you that I am having fun with this not-done book. And I, for one, I think it’s going to be a fun read.

I don’t quite care
what anyone’s funky haired
ice cream eating, orange-tailed,
horn-lobbing Frester
says about it
to anyone

I have a feeling it’s going to be very good for me.

Too Late

Unsure where I've been
lately
I think I can safely say
things are about to
return
(though a little late)
to the way they
should have been
all along.

Distractions keep a comin'
lately
in forms of you
and hospital rooms
I hate
(they keep me up late)
when needles poke at me
and it's wierd on the
other side.

Wondered driving home
lately
should my brakes fail
to hold onto the
tires
(repairs to come so late)
what good for help is
it to ask when things
weren't right.

With brakes
all fixed
And some too-late
reveltaions
It's time
now
For the other side:
where I might have
been
all along.
(If I hadn't been too late.)