eeyore_grrl: (Eli (4 days))
We bought a house. Which is twelve kinds of crazy. We're hoping to move in about 2 weeks. Oh, we're also getting married in about a month. So that adds another few kinds of stressy-crazy. Both awesome-tastic things, but, dude, there are things I just didn't consider. Really? My bridesmaids all consult me on which shoes they wear? I had no idea. Also...


and so it begins
the packing and the boxes
	the trash and the stress

the moving
	(and the moving
		and the moving)

oh wait, i’m in california now
don’t forget the termites

and so it begins
the termites search for dead trees
but find only houses
wood frame houses on concrete slabs
such yummy food for little ‘mites
gnawing at my window frame
	breeding in my walls
	breaking down my house tiny bite by tiny bite

we’ve taken the trees and offer our houses for supper

and so it begins
the carnival is coming to town
with a big tent full of poison 
killing all, killing

and today
      i don’t feel so bad about death

And a video rendition of me reading it can be found at:

This has been and entry for week 11 of LJ Idol Exhibit A. My topic was "And so it begins..." Read the other 10 entries here Then voting starts Monday night.
eeyore_grrl: (mouth)

sometimes life is nothing more than barnstorming
flying from place to place
	landing in fields
	briefly staying emotion to emotion
	offering rides for a price

I haven’t crashed my airplane in *this* many days

I do all my own work, though I consult professionals
		and buy parts

come for a ride, two bucks, maybe $100
		the price of fuel has gone up

but, ya know, perhaps it is time to set my little plane down
build a picket fence around it, with a gate that is always open

grow a garden, marry someone in one of these little towns
set up a life that isn’t on the run
find stability in myself, create it in the world

barnstorming has had its moments
moving cross-country with just my cat and a car full of stuff
I could have stopped anywhere I pleased

now I have lovely tethers holding me here
 	        lovely tethers with names and beauty and peace and calm
I’m out of fuel for my airplane
	the barnstorming ends 


and video rendition (video is of me, at my table reading the above poem.)

This was written for week 10 of LJ Idol Exhibit A. I had the topic barnstorming to write about. Monday evening voting opens until Thursday evening at Feel free to check back and read the remaining 16 (of about 90) entrants and what we've had to say this week! And vote. :D
eeyore_grrl: (shallot)
the edge of the wold -- Vague Literary Criticism

“On either side the river lie
Long fields of barley and of rye,
That clothe the wold and meet the sky;
And through the field the road runs by
            To many-towered Camelot; 
And up and down the people go, 
Gazing where the lilies blow 
Round an island there below,
            The island of Shalott.”
		- Alfred Lord Tennyson (

My mother always hung a huge poster of John William Waterhouse’s painting, “The Lady of Shalott” which was based on the poem. She tacked the poem up nearby. I grew up staring at this, reading this, assigning large chunks of the poem to memory.

I was a teenager by the time I realized the wold didn’t mean world. That the words are different. That the wold is merely part of the world. A subset, like a forest, like an ocean, like a hillock.

But the edge of the wold was no different from the edge of the world for the Lady of Shalott, locked in her tower.

“And moving through a mirror clear
That hangs before her all the year,
Shadows of the world appear.
There she sees the highway near
            Winding down to Camelot: 
There the river eddy whirls, 
And there the curly village-churls, 
And the red cloaks of market girls,
            Pass onward from Shalott.”

She’s stuck. This woman, called beautiful, is cursed to live in a tower and can’t even look at the beauty with her own eyes, she must see it in reverse, through her weaving mirror. Standing on the edge of reality. The wold, the market-goers, Lancelot.

“"I am half sick of shadows," said
            The Lady of Shalott.”

Only half sick? I begin to rage a bit inside, HALF SICK of the shadows out there, the shadows of life, of the world, the wold, outside your window. Look to your English countryside, the ups and downs of hills. Walk from your weaving prison and be with humanity, experience life.

And she does. Sir Lancelot wanders by and in her mirror she falls, hard and fast in lust or love. She turns her head:
“She left the web, she left the loom, 
She made three paces through the room, 
She saw the water-lily bloom, 
She saw the helmet and the plume,
            She looked down to Camelot. 
Out flew the web and floated wide; 
The mirror cracked from side to side; 
"The curse is come upon me," cried
            The Lady of Shalott.”

And the feminist in me wants to scream. A lost life for a man she’s never met, a lost life for... but wait, what kind of life did she have.

And this is where the painting comes in, she ends up in a boat, chained to it, drifting. For one moment of real sight, of the wold, the knight, the water lilies, for ONE reckless moment the curse brings her death. A woman marred by the mere sight of a man forbidden to her.

And for this, besides death, her prize is unremarkable, when she drifts to shore Lancelot is among the crowd and says,

 “But Lancelot mused a little space; 
He said, "She has a lovely face; 
God in his mercy lend her grace,
            The Lady of Shalott."”

He knows not that she died but for to look at him. He simply sees a lovely face, not a life captured and lost in one glance past the mirror, one glance over the edge of her rules. It is a story that lives today in so many places, women are safest if we obey.

A lesson best noticed and fought. We are no longer in Arthurian times, let us move forward. Break the shackles, both seen and unseen, literal and figurative. Let us learn from the unnamed Lady of Shalott.

The painting

This piece of vague lit crit was brought to you for week 9 of LJ Idol:Exhibit A

Hope you enjoy my take on the poetry of another this week.
eeyore_grrl: (Eli (4 days))

today you said, “just sleep with me, mommy”
so i did

i laid with you until your breaths were steady
                             your lungs calm
                             your voice quiet
		             your heartbeat timed to sleep

i stayed with you while you drifted and relaxed towards slumber
i could feel the warmth of your skin, your cheek against my arm

once you were part of me
growing inside
pushing my organs to make room
stating that you were viable

and you are

because i cannot imagine life without your smile
			         life without your laugh
			              without the blue of your eyes

you grew from me and grow with me
your heart growing as you learn about the world
					       (how to breathe
					        and stand strong)
how to use your lungs and your voice
                  your brain and heart

how to become 


This was written for week 8 of LJ Idol: Exhibit A.
My topic was "Vital Organs."

You can see/hear the poem here:
eeyore_grrl: (eye)

               Can’t Get There From Here

there were discussions and decisions on the american dream
	a white dress wedding, two cats, a house, two kids
		(you know the drill)
there were plans 
and discussions
	but we can’t get there from here

three miscarriages later, we have only one child

but we have the house and the cats
      we have the stay at home parent
      and, at my wedding, i’m gonna wear an ivory wedding dress
					with purple shoes

you can’t get to the american dream when your womb rebels
you can’t
		        from where we are
			      where *i* am

so, who created this dream anyway?

we can’t get there with a womb that refuses to sustain

so fuck it

we are creating our own dreams
		    our own life
	from what we have
	        what makes us happy
	       what makes us smile
		our dream

video reading at:
This was written for LJ Idol Exhibit A
eeyore_grrl: (close up)
In retrospect it wasn't normal, the game we played as children. We called it "Hot Peas and Butter." I don't know why. But, here's how it went...

I was five years old and we had just moved back to New York. This is back in the days of free-range children and the neighborhood was full of poor kids, like us. We roamed and all the houses had eyes on us. There were no secrets.

Ah, but back to the game. To this day I don’t know why it was called Hot Peas and Butter; I don’t suspect I’ll ever have an answer to that. It was similar to hide-n-seek in that something was hidden. Whoever was “it” took a belt and hid it behind the house (you see where this is going yet?). “READY!” And the rest of the players bolted from the porch to find the belt.

One lucky kid would find the belt secreted in a patch of weeds or behind some wood and rusted nails, grab it and yell “Hot Peas and Butter” then proceed to run after the nearest friends whipping them with the belt as hard and as often as she or he could until they got to the front porch base, the only place of safety.

I didn’t know this was odd until college. I told the story to an audience of shocked faces. “Where the hell did you grow up?”


This is an entry for Second Chance Idol, Topic 5 (What the HECK was that?), Week 6
eeyore_grrl: (eye)
I am not the smartest person in the room
high school physics baffled me and sometimes
I still confuse astronomy and astrology

he explains to me that the ultra deep field
		is amazing
that specks of dark in the night sky 
hold galaxies upon galaxies so large
		yet so small to us

I am not the smartest person in the room
but I believe in the power of questions and Wikipedia
      I believe in the physics major by my side
	                 	and the power of poetry
			to put science into beauty
			and beauty into science

I’ve a newfound respect for the Hubble telescope
it has transformed from simple science to sheer beauty
to something that creates images i want to hang over my bed
	stare at, meditate under, breathe in the beauty

A newfound respect for the beauty of the universe 
hidden in the dark, in the deep
drawing conclusions about the beauty of people
					       of humanity


This poem was written for LJ Idol: Exhibit A, Topic 4.
eeyore_grrl: (frff 03)
Am I crazy? Is that for me to judge? I am searching and creating a new sanity as I type. As I was yesterday and as I am as you read these words. The current one, the one doled out to me thus far isn’t working for me. Isn’t cutting it. Isn’t right.

So I search. And I search. I’ve looked in nooks and crannies. I’ve rummaged in sex and razor blades. I’ve gone on wild goose hunts through drowning in alcohol. Battled demons I still don’t even know how to name, or don’t want to give the power of retelling anymore.

I’ve mostly realized that I’m not crazy. I get depressed. I’m not perfect, but I’m not hopeless, just a little lost.

So here I go, continuing forth on this journey towards a new sanity. Leaving any thoughts of crazy behind. Taking control of who I am and the labels I use. Searching and finding. I am healing from the crazy, the wreck I was. I am moving forward and leaving that behind.  So, am I crazy. Nope. I am gaining a new sanity, leaving the wreck behind.


the wreck and the story of the wreck

the thing I came for:
the wreck and not the story of the wreck
the thing itself and not the myth

-- Adrienne Rich, Diving into the Wreck

i am the evidence of damage
the wreck and the story of the wreck
it is etched into my arms with razor blades
onto my face with age

i am the wreck and the story of the wreck

but i am also the deep sea diver that found the gold

that found the antiquities and brought them to light

i am refusing to be

lost at sea

discounting ties to Amelia Earheart
because i refuse to go unfound
i refuse to die unseen and enigmatic
i will tell the story of the wreck
but i will not continue to live it

~~cdr 2012

And on video:

(This is Week 1 for LJ Idol: Exhibit A --
eeyore_grrl: (Eli (4 days))
“Who am I anyway?
Am I my resume?
That is a picture of a person I don't know.

What does he want from me?
What should I try to be?
So many faces all around, and here we go.
I need this job, oh God, I need this show.”

--A Chorus Line

Who am I? I am a mother, a fiance, a friend, a daughter, a sister, a teacher, a mentor, a poet. I am... human. LIke all of us reading this (well, except the cats looking at this from laps, they’re just higher beings). I’m a lot of things, but mostly, I’m just me. And somedays I know exactly who that is. Somedays I’m still just a little girl lost in her own skin.

(This is for LJ Idol Exhibit A


eeyore_grrl: (Default)

September 2017



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