![I Believe… [Too Much Absence]](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1730684696431-9LG56F84KEH4VEPSQ13U/IMG_2287+2.JPG)
![[ARCHIVED] I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/579fa3912994ca0eff850271/1634585078529-FQZ3XTSCD4JV1JWM0SNH/IMG_7229.jpeg)
[ARCHIVED] I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire
I built a city in the desert.
Lithium and plastic and dry cellulose.
Autonomous flying cars.
Drone-delivered impossible everything,
Nourishing our body-positive bodies.
Streaming, bingeable Obama-produced documentaries
In every remote classroom.
There was even a monorail.
Las Vegas Tour Company
on the corner
of Casino Center and Colorado with the studded thongs and the leashes around their slim necks and those high- waisted hot-pants hiked up to that sinched waist terrified by the possibility of beauty, while forgetting what
it might
be
...slowly
losing
life
I Was a Teenage Space Billionaire
I built a city in the desert.
Lithium and plastic and dry cellulose.
Autonomous flying cars.
Drone-delivered impossible everything,
Nourishing our body-positive bodies.
Streaming, bingeable Obama-produced documentaries
In every remote classroom.
There was even a monorail.
Perfectionism
pANDEMIC eCCENTRIC
I hope things never go back to how they were. That normal wasn’t normal. Lost to digitized history seemed to be leisure with gravity, interstitial tranquility. The accuracy of vacancy. Nilness.
I want to lose track of days and check the time only to be surprised at the lateness of the hour. Dusk looming, innocent as a satellite.
I Want to Be the Core Holding in Your Hedge Fund of Pussy
You date like you're running a hedge fund, always keeping some women on the side just in case your current main squeeze doesn't work out, is busy or out of town, or pisses you off…
Finding New Ways to Create | Body Passages Series: Poetry and Dance Collaborations
From conversations with the collaborators and curators, especially Jeanette (Jae) Green, Sara Maslanka, and Natasha Mijares, I was able to gain more insights into the interconnectedness of poetry and dance and the collaborative, creative process.
Lean Cuisine Brings Both Liberation and Sadness
So convenient. I don’t like to cook.
So why should I have to? It takes
time and planning and organization
and executive functioning.
I forget to eat all the time.
I’ve got other things to do
and think about. Takes five
minutes in the microwave.
Dinner is quick. Grab a fork
and go back to looking
at the computer while I eat.
Music is Magic (Am I a Poem?)
Music transcends distances between, crossing oceans,
crossing seas.
Music transcends lifespans,
living long
beyond its creator.
YAWP: An Homage to Ginsberg in These Times
I'm no poet. While this is true, it is likewise true that I love poetry and, from time to time, indulge in the urge to write some. If you're really interested, you can go on Amazon and buy a book of my poetry. As I started to search for the thread of the idea behind the piece below, it kept bringing me back to Ginsberg's Howl. It is National Poetry Month, so I went with it.
Couplea Jerk Poets: In Conversation with Nic Souder
Chicago native Nic Souder is one of those people for me. A podcaster, a poet, poetry show host, visual artist and acquaintance (not at all in that order). One whom I admire because he manages to use his darker experiences and the everyday to lace everything he touches with a kind of mad hipster magic.
He was gracious enough to let me steal him away after work for a few beers and a long chat, heavily abridged and presented here in celebration with National Poetry Month, about process and other creative curiosities…
In the Springtime of My Dystopia
There were signs. There were warnings.
We were too in love to pay much attention.
It was merely some background noise,
some clatter, inconvenient clutter.
What were those politicians droning on about?
Overly made-up talk show hosts harping on about
nonsense, trivialities, invented crises.
Grown men wearing the flag like a toga
or burning it in acts of performance art largesse.
This Hatred We Call Tolerance
Two kinds of tolerance:
1) the ability
or willingness
to tolerate something, such as
the existence of opinions or behavior
that one does not necessarily agree with;
2) the capacity to endure
continued subjection
to something
without adverse reaction.
Messed Up on a Friday
Messed up. Took my night meds in the morning because I was tired and in a hurry and didn't know what the fuck I was doing and was trying to blend a protein shake into yesterday's cold coffee, but it wouldn't dissolve so I tried the electric hand mixer and then the Cuisinart. And then it worked but it took too long and then I was worried the night meds would make me sleepy or act high during the day and I had to stand up all day and be nice to people and act like I cared when I just wanted to be in bed masturbating and sleeping.
Epic Political Suicide Poem
Suicide plans on post-it notes
scattered on surfaces,
pieces of furniture, countertops
throughout the apartment.
Stashes of pills stockpiled,
knives sharpened, razor blades
bought in bulk, handles of
bargain brand vodka.
A cozy robe.
Should you force yourself
to wash the sheets? Change
your underwear? Does it matter?
Should you care? Could anyone
care less than you? Suicide
as backup plan when
you can’t think of anything
better to do.
Angry is My Happy
I like being angry.
I like being pissed off.
The oppressor is not going
to trick me into being complaisant.
Postmenopausal Pretty Hate Machine
I don't care if you hate me.
I'm not one of those women
who needs constant approval,
to be a people pleaser
The Long Hello - A Decade In The City of Big Dreams
It’s that rock-bottom feeling, and some new Chicagoan is working thru that feeling right now. I am here to tell her that there is magic and warmth and good things to come on the other side of it. Use your bravery, and your pluck. And stay.
