In an effort to consolidate, I've moved this blog to Wordpress. It's been grand, but I'm hoping this move will prompt bigger and better things so come by and check me out!
My New Digs!
Thanks,
Elle
May 4, 2011
August 30, 2010
Los Rayos del Sol
You make my heartbeat
pause and reflect
on the playful kiss of the ocean
the tease of the moon’s
licentious cycles
the nip of patchouli at dawn
and then return to its
syncopated skipping
dipping into the flow of this
and catapulting into the
wall that restrains its eagerness
over and over, knocking
against hardy bone, like water
over rock, with ineffectual force
but the sumptuous caress of a
midnight whisper underneath
warm winter sheets.
pause and reflect
on the playful kiss of the ocean
the tease of the moon’s
licentious cycles
the nip of patchouli at dawn
and then return to its
syncopated skipping
dipping into the flow of this
and catapulting into the
wall that restrains its eagerness
over and over, knocking
against hardy bone, like water
over rock, with ineffectual force
but the sumptuous caress of a
midnight whisper underneath
warm winter sheets.
August 28, 2010
Luna Llena
Every day I wake up and I think, today will be the day. This is the day the silence will end. I will produce. I will hear the voice of my future. I will be whole. I wait. Drink my coffee and wait. Feel the heat of an(other)'s body beneath me and wait. Dream of my new city, my new home and wait. My empty notebook cavernous like the history of my blood, overwhelming me with its depth and lack. The shriek of my desire echoing off these walls, permeating the silence with the delicious taint of possibility. And I wait. You better believe I'll wait.
August 17, 2010
Poetry: Saturation
The day has driven her to get high
To crawl upon the back of
lasciviousness and fingerfuck the clouds
weightless foci penetrate her borders
she thrusts herself over the threshhold
and into another world.
Open wide, the honeydew potency
of her tongue drifts up and out
To crawl upon the back of
lasciviousness and fingerfuck the clouds
weightless foci penetrate her borders
she thrusts herself over the threshhold
and into another world.
Open wide, the honeydew potency
of her tongue drifts up and out
melting into the porcelain whiffs
of a treasure chest filled with
three-piece suits and hipster shades
palate to membrane, she licks at
the memory of every pungent passerby.
Beneath her tender feet she watches
the blood of foreign fruit awash
in a river of lemony piss. A penny
she lifts midstream, places it on
her hybrid tongue. The coppery sting
a reminder that she is but a weighted balloon.
of a treasure chest filled with
three-piece suits and hipster shades
palate to membrane, she licks at
the memory of every pungent passerby.
Beneath her tender feet she watches
the blood of foreign fruit awash
in a river of lemony piss. A penny
she lifts midstream, places it on
her hybrid tongue. The coppery sting
a reminder that she is but a weighted balloon.
August 15, 2010
Repost: Cringe-Tastic
I hope you all don't mind the repost. I stumbled across this posting and it made me laugh, because to this day, it is still, utterly, 100% applicable. Maybe some things never do change. Thank goodness.
******************************************************************
When you think back over your life, no matter how short or long it has been, what sorts of memories make you cringe? What makes you go, “Oh my good, did I REALLY do/say/live that?” I know there’s at least one, and if you’re like me, about one million.
I’ve recently become ADDICTED to Ira Glass’s, This American Life, and I can’t stop listening to the episodes. Today, while doing some website updates, I listened to one appropriately called, “Cringe.” Starts off talking about romantic cringes, then discusses Ira’s horribly embarrassing stint on the set of Mash, and I haven’t yet finished so I’m not sure what else is discussed.
The romantic cringes didn’t get me as much as Ira’s story. There were some parts where I actually put my head in my hands and shook my head. I felt bad for 20-year-old Ira. He, um, should have been stopped.
But when I think back over my own life, dear god, I have soo many cringe moments. I think about when I commented – out loud – about my phonetic teacher’s “Growth Potential” t-shirt, and the subsequent hand written card I gave to him which to this day still has not been responded to. I think about my brief flirt with polyamory, and my whole body cringes. And what about when I ended up dating a guy who had a girlfriend (I didn’t know, people!)… I recall many of the things I have said and done, and really, I don’t know how I manage to get up in the morning and leave the house.
I am, quite frankly, a walking, talking disaster.
I don’t have enough appendages to count the number of times I have tried to force myself to just “not speak,” to just be quiet in order to save myself some embarrassment. It never works.
There are times when I can’t quite possibly figure out what I had to tell myself to convince myself that the crazy thing I had done was a good idea. And therefore, this show, this Ira Glass episode, has unleashed all my cringe-tastic moments in all their ugly glory.
And I am ashamed of myself. Hehe
What can I say? I have worked hard for all this cool, levelheaded judgment. It was nice to hear Ira say that to this day, some of the things that made him cringe almost thirty years ago are things he still struggles with and are things that often get edited out of his seemingly well-delivered performance.
So the hope that eventually I will outgrow this awkward ridiculousness that is me has been dashed, but I can rest assured that maybe one day I’ll just find a really, really good editor.
******************************************************************
When you think back over your life, no matter how short or long it has been, what sorts of memories make you cringe? What makes you go, “Oh my good, did I REALLY do/say/live that?” I know there’s at least one, and if you’re like me, about one million.
I’ve recently become ADDICTED to Ira Glass’s, This American Life, and I can’t stop listening to the episodes. Today, while doing some website updates, I listened to one appropriately called, “Cringe.” Starts off talking about romantic cringes, then discusses Ira’s horribly embarrassing stint on the set of Mash, and I haven’t yet finished so I’m not sure what else is discussed.
The romantic cringes didn’t get me as much as Ira’s story. There were some parts where I actually put my head in my hands and shook my head. I felt bad for 20-year-old Ira. He, um, should have been stopped.
But when I think back over my own life, dear god, I have soo many cringe moments. I think about when I commented – out loud – about my phonetic teacher’s “Growth Potential” t-shirt, and the subsequent hand written card I gave to him which to this day still has not been responded to. I think about my brief flirt with polyamory, and my whole body cringes. And what about when I ended up dating a guy who had a girlfriend (I didn’t know, people!)… I recall many of the things I have said and done, and really, I don’t know how I manage to get up in the morning and leave the house.
I am, quite frankly, a walking, talking disaster.
I don’t have enough appendages to count the number of times I have tried to force myself to just “not speak,” to just be quiet in order to save myself some embarrassment. It never works.
There are times when I can’t quite possibly figure out what I had to tell myself to convince myself that the crazy thing I had done was a good idea. And therefore, this show, this Ira Glass episode, has unleashed all my cringe-tastic moments in all their ugly glory.
And I am ashamed of myself. Hehe
What can I say? I have worked hard for all this cool, levelheaded judgment. It was nice to hear Ira say that to this day, some of the things that made him cringe almost thirty years ago are things he still struggles with and are things that often get edited out of his seemingly well-delivered performance.
So the hope that eventually I will outgrow this awkward ridiculousness that is me has been dashed, but I can rest assured that maybe one day I’ll just find a really, really good editor.
Poetry: Tired
It was a meager attempt to push through these transitions
engaged in media res, back and forth we go sans introduction.
I must escape you. one word at a time, sever your mutant ties,
frantically turn the pages to reengage in a story I wrote,
engaged in media res, back and forth we go sans introduction.
I must escape you. one word at a time, sever your mutant ties,
frantically turn the pages to reengage in a story I wrote,
straddling the climax, for once, release with a new resolution.
Spent, I find myself laden with machinery, determined fingers
having pitched my turmoil to anyone who would stand still
It is too late for a rewrite, these characters are in my blood
All I really want now is for you to fade away.
It is too late for a rewrite, these characters are in my blood
All I really want now is for you to fade away.
August 10, 2010
Poetry: When We Sing
The ticking has begun
prehistoric footsteps
grandstanding in my womb
composing spacial infinity
we are biding time
their heartbeats are prevalent
biological metronomes
click click clicking
into place serendipitous
notes, my warrior sings, we
halt the practices of our
civil disobedience,
disciplining cacophonous
narcissism to accompany the
crescendo of their cries
a harmonious drum roll
signals their existence
They direct this performance
our wombs the stage for
this nascent ovation.
prehistoric footsteps
grandstanding in my womb
composing spacial infinity
we are biding time
their heartbeats are prevalent
biological metronomes
click click clicking
into place serendipitous
notes, my warrior sings, we
halt the practices of our
civil disobedience,
disciplining cacophonous
narcissism to accompany the
crescendo of their cries
a harmonious drum roll
signals their existence
They direct this performance
our wombs the stage for
this nascent ovation.
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