| *** Random Poetry Anyone? *** | |||
|
Sunday Spanish Nights Tonight the cobblestones are slick With spilled, sticky brew, sloshed From the bottles and cups of revelers Stumbling from one door to the next, Tobacco and sweat emanating from Each dazed face, deaf from the pounding Techno and blind from the flashing Lights and writhing shadows That wrap around the darkest corners. I love this place, the humid air rich With foreign vowels and the lilting laughter Of my friends, flirting with men Whose language they barely speak. We wash In and out of each bar and club like seaweed Floating with the tide, drink specials Here and the best DJs there, all enticing to our Hungry American appetites—it can never Be enough for us to devour. All too soon we’re stumbling with the rest, Trying to remember down which alley We’re staying and which cathedral looms Over our rooms. Just another Spanish night Of living and forgetting the places that we call Home, in favor of one that feels more like it. ( 11/14/2004 01:15:00 PM ) Lisa# El sonido de las olas I dive under the water, As clear as any lens of glass and lukewarm like forgotten tea in the afternoon. The salt stings my eyes so I close them, feeling without seeing the shimmering sand sift between my fingers. I can hear the ocean’s voice, suspended in this moment of underneath, filling my ears with melodies as much as water; ¿Vas a tratar? I come up for air blinking and gasping, then tense my muscles to dive again as the next wave crests followed by another and another, again I shoot to the surface rubbing my eyes and pushing my hair backwards, bracing as each wave hits and my toes slip in the soft sand and I stagger backwards, out of breath and defeated, unable to force my way out and ride, my back to the sky, over the never-motionless waves. I turn my back to the spray, harsh and uncompromising; the waves have won today. I stumble as they pummel unceasingly first my back and then my thighs, and now my calves, perhaps no longer a constant deluge but just a light slap to say I told you so— Te dije, ¿no? * * * I should have known, should have listened. I heard them on the radio as I drove along the sun-bleached gulf, past the rocking trees whose palms were forced to kow-tow to the relentless pre-hurricane winds. But I was fooled by the bright sun and the warm air that enticed me to jump in my car and head straightaway to the beach. I heard the angry ocean even before I could see her tossing and roaring like a hungry two-year old. But my hunger also drove me, overconfident in my own skill. I had seldom seen a wave too great, or felt an undertow too strong to keep me away. This was not going to be the day that I did. I parked across the road, on the other side of the row of palm trees, still whipping about like so many weak stalks of grass. But the sky was bright without any clouds, and the golden azure sparkle thrilled me as I watched it rise high in the air and fall crashing, white caps forming from miles and miles away. * * * I stand wrapped in my towel, blanketed from the flying sand and staring once again at the raging waves. My ears are filled with salt and sand but I can still hear the roar. I will come back tomorrow. Maybe I am a fool. But I thirst for the best wave, for the longest ride on an unending curl, belly down to the earth yet above it, floating and flying along an inward-collapsing tunnel of agua and bliss. And these ominous winds and this erratic ocean cannot drench my thirst, nor can any amount of salt water, inhaled as I am rocked and flipped head first into the soft bottom that instantly becomes a Brillo pad, scouring my arms and my face. I cannot be hushed by the screaming wind that knocks me aside and fills my mouth with grit. Tomorrow my shouts of triumph will be louder than the sound of the waves. Es una posibilidad, pero veremos mañana. ( 11/14/2004 01:00:00 PM ) Lisa# Monday Fermata They sang together under vermillion Skies, rouged in such a way to suggest That night would never come. She offered Lilting harmonies to his sprawling Melodies that intertwined in crescendos With the dips and turns of lightning bugs, Dancing on the wind. Russet faded To violet as their song spread itself, Trickling through branches and caressing Far-off ears that could only wonder. Too soon the choruses of crickets joined In to welcome the darkness and the music abated, drenched in the heaviness of night and the sweat of still air. Two hands glided over now familiar landscapes, coming to rest in each other tightly until the crickets ceased serenading, and the lightning bugs stopped dancing, and the last sound the stars could perceive was the whispered breath-- I love you. ( 10/11/2004 07:55:00 PM ) Lisa# Tuesday the walls aren’t white i always thought they would be white, but instead they’re blue or pink or green with a pretty border right along the top of the wall, just under the ceiling. nurses don’t wear white either. maybe because it gets dirty. maybe because they don’t want you to know where you are. they wear teal or pink, with bright designs and prints. some wear blue. you’re wearing blue today. you’ve worn blue every day. i don’t think that you’ve changed because i think that it hurts when they move you. i wonder if you like all of the flowers all over your room and the balloons that say “happy birthday grandma” or if they make you sad because you’re here. i wonder what goes on inside of you as i look at all of the tubes going in and out and watch you close your eyes tightly as the pain gets worse and you reach for the button and push it and get a stream of pain medication flowing into you. i guess it doesn’t matter how often you push the button. it won’t be much longer now. you tell me that it’s not morphine because that makes you see pink people and pink balls and you’d rather not. you can still make me smile and laugh even though on the inside i’m crying. i wish i had words to say to you. i’m not used to such silence. you were always asking about my family and about school, telling me stories about when he was a little boy running around your house scaring the cats and breaking things. stories about your mother and about people i’ve never met that have fascinating lives. you have had a fascinating life too. you cared for your mother until she died just three years ago. you mothered two children and now have four grandchildren, one just born last year. i wish you could be alive to see us get married. i wish you could be alive to play with your great grandchildren. i wish i had spent more time with you when you were alive. you’re alive now, but it’s not the same. when you were healthy you would always ask me to come see you and i would smile and agree and i always meant to but i would never make it. now i can make it, but it’s not the same. they’ve sent you home today. away from the not-white nurses in their not-white hallways and bedrooms. back to your house and your husband. you just got married five months ago. i want to come see you today, but i don’t know what to talk about. the weather isn’t nice. it’s raining. you were always the one to ask me questions so that i didn’t have to think of things on my own. he cried for the first time yesterday. i can’t imagine being the one to tell you. but he did it, and he’s been strong until now. until they sent you home from the hospital because there’s nothing more that they can do. i want to give you this poem, but i’m afraid that you won’t understand. that it will make you sad. and that it will put you in pain. it’s cold and raining outside. i’m wearing blue today. but you get to change. ( 3/16/2004 09:05:00 AM ) Lisa# Saturday “Law offices of Childress and Clark, how can I help you?” Toni said sweetly into the receiver, forcing her lips to turn up into a smile. Her mother’s advice resonated in her mind. They can always hear you smiling on the other end. She figured it had helped her land the job here. That and her short skirt. She listened to the rambling with half her mind on the word puzzle that was partly hidden beneath the papers covering her desk. Without these puzzles to keep her busy, her IQ would probably drop significantly in her employment here. She feared it already had. And this was the benefit of a college education? “I’ll put you down for ten O’clock next Thursday, ma’am. Mr. Clark is booked until then. Yes I understand how important this is. Mmmhmm. Yes ma’am. Certainly, I will make sure he knows. Buh bye.” Toni sighed inaudibly as she hung up the receiver. Then she pressed the intercom button. “Mr. Clark?” The speaker crackled as his deep voice reverberated through. “What Tori?” “I’ve put Mrs. Levanstrom down for ten O’clock next Thursday sir. I couldn’t push her back any farther than that or she would have stormed the office.” His snort was audible even through the cackling speaker. “That’ll do. I’m going to need some more of that coffee Tori. And I’ve got another stack of papers in here for you.” “Right away Mr. Clark,” said Toni, rolling her eyes at Marissa, who had a desk facing Toni’s. Marissa smothered a chuckle with her thin hand. Her long, curly blonde hair stood in a huge contrast to Toni’s dark brown bob. Toni reached up to smooth her hair unconsciously and pushed herself up out of her padded desk chair. The ancient monolith creaked as she rolled it back, releasing the old smell of the countless secretaries who had graced the chair in the past. Marissa sniffed the air. “Mmmm, I do miss Dorothy. She had great taste. I love Chanel.” Toni ignored the comment as she made her way to the coffee pot. As much as Marissa smiled and performed, she didn’t fool Toni. She’d most likely gotten her job as Ethan Childress’ secretary by sleeping her way there. Toni hadn’t asked and didn’t care. She didn’t plan on sticking around here that long anyway. Let Marissa aspire to become a career secretary. That was more than most people with a GED could hope for, and Toni doubted Marissa had even that. There was still a pot of good French vanilla simmering, sending out aromas that reminded Toni more of the café next to her college than the Law Offices of Childress and Clark. She mixed in cream and sugar, then navigated her way around her desk to tap lightly on Thomas Clark’s door. “Come in Tori,” his voice sounded muffled through the door. As she pushed it open, it caught on the thick rug that Clark favored, maroon like the rest of his furnishings. He didn’t look up from his desk, which was neatly arranged and had an alarming stack of papers on one side. His head of dark hair, thick with streaks of grey, motioned to the stack. “Go ahead and grab those. I’ll need them back tomorrow.” Toni swallowed another sigh as she approached his desk, unsuccessfully trying to keep her heels from sinking into the carpet. She set the austere black mug on his maroon saucer, grabbed the stack, and staggered out of his office. Marissa was watching with a smirk on her face, as she filed her nails down and blew on them, sending tiny fragments of fingernail spiraling about the room, caught in the currents from the vents up above. Her desk was as organized as Clark’s, but that had more to do with a lack of work than obsessive neatness. “More cases for you to file? People to call? Have fun with that. I think I’ll take an early lunch.” With a final blow on her fingertips, she stood up and stretched backward like a cat, causing her generous chest to rise and separate the buttons that barely held her bright pink shirt together. Like many other things about her, her supermodel figure stood in contrast to Toni’s, which was hardly thin by today’s standards. She gave Toni a smile that didn’t reach her eyes, grabbed her coat, and sauntered out the office door, heels clacking on the polished wood floor. Toni let her sigh out this time, and dropped the stack on her desk. She winced a bit as the sound bounced around the now empty office, but when a few moments passed and neither lawyer investigated, she settled into her creaky old chair. The smell of Chanel and Glow mingled with the French vanilla, and she smiled a bit. At least she had a comfy chair, and the office smelled good. It could be worse. She closed up her puzzle book and stuffed it into a random desk drawer, pushed a pile of papers to one side, and grabbed the stack of folders. She opened the first one and read through it carefully. Just because this was a temporary job for her didn’t mean she couldn’t do it well. She pulled out her keyboard, turned on the screen, and her fingers started to fly over the keys as her eyes darted back and forth from the file to the screen. It only took her the better part of an hour to finish the stack, something, she reflected, that would have taken Marissa a week or two. Then she winced. She was probably being unfair to Marissa, who did do work most of the time, but at the moment Childress had a huge case that he didn’t trust her with. He’d been cooped up in his office from dawn till dusk for almost two weeks now, and Toni actually pitied Marissa a bit because she was basically being ignored. Instead of bringing the files back into Clark’s office, she pulled out her puzzle book and switched her mind out of “sleep mode.” The scratching of her red fountain pen supplied the only noise in the empty office. There wasn’t much to absorb sound, with a few wooden waiting chairs, two lone pictures gracing the eggshell walls, and one small plant next to the door. Compared to the lushness of Clark’s office, this place was less welcoming than a mental institution. Or at least that’s how Toni saw it. While her right brain solved puzzles, her left brain calculated her next pay check, deducted student loans, and tried to factor in groceries and gas and the electric bill. She put the pen down for a second and closed her eyes. She should be OK for the next month. And soon the acceptance letters should start rolling in. Then she could kiss this austere office, Clark’s opulent taste, and Marissa’s ‘cute’ ass goodbye. If this job didn’t pay so well--. But it did, and it would probably look good on future job applications. Her real title here was “intern” after all. So what if that was a façade to lure cute law students. She’d seen through the ruse right away, and hadn’t cared. It was a steady paycheck. She was startled out of her reverie by the sudden appearance of Clark at her side. He wasn’t even looking at her, or her desk thankfully, but instead was pulling more files out of his briefcase to drop on her desk. “Get to these after you finish the ones from this morning. I’ve got a court appearance in half an hour. You can leave when you want, I won’t be back in today.” He whisked his coat over his shoulders and was gone as the door closed behind him with a thud. Toni waited a moment, then grabbed her own coat with one hand as the other attempted to organize her desk. She wasn’t going to let this opportunity go. She powered down the computer and grabbed her purse, this time exhaling with relief as she headed for the door. ( 2/07/2004 12:40:00 PM ) Lisa# Monday She sat limply on the edge of the wooden pier, her hands loosely gripping the edge of the wood as she seemed to stare down into the water. It was a beautiful day. The sun was beginning its descent into the trees to her left, casting elongated shadows over the motionless water. The surrounding forest hummed with life as the lake community settled into yet another humid summer afternoon. A squirrel, busy with gathering nuts for his store, stumbled out onto the pier without noticing her. It pulled to a halt as soon as it saw her, this human intruder, sitting at the edge. Frozen in position, he waited for her to move. But she just sat staring at the lake without seeing it. She heard tiny feet scampering on the sun-baked wood behind her, but the sound didn’t register over the cacophony within her brain. The lake’s surface reflected the surrounding scenery like a perfect mirror, but that too escaped her notice. Instead, all she could see were the flashing lights of sirens. Red then blue then red then blue. All she could hear were the screams. Why? What have you done? And instead of feeling the warm summer breeze that momentarily tickled the surface of the lake, causing the reflection to ripple a bit and obscure the perfection, she felt the heat of anger and shame, the coldness of grief and guilt, and the numbness of running through the woods at full speed away from everything. Her hands, still loosely clutching the pier, were stained an ugly red-brown and covered in cuts from her frantic flight. Blood dripped sluggishly from a large gash on the back of her hand, from either a knife or a fall in the forest she knew or cared not. Each drop mingled with the dirt on her hands before it dropped into the lake below, making a tiny ripple as the blood fell and eventually disappeared into the otherwise unscathed surface. Her eyes were glazed, her face pinched into a mask of pain as she held back the tears that kept threatening to fall. She was slouched, and had she been more coherent would have realized that sitting in this position was causing her back to ache. The ache went unnoticed, however; just like everything else that wasn’t inside her head. On a normal day, she wouldn’t have been this close to the water either. Her swimming skills were shaky at best and her fear of drowning had always kept her away. It was the last place they would look. The faint whir of a real siren, and not the one in her head, roused her from the self-imposed stupor as a knife of fear twisted in her gut. They were coming. She looked up and around wildly, eyes huge, breaths coming quick and uneven. Her hands tightened on the pier, painted nails digging into the wood ignoring the resulting splinters. She looked down at the lake again. It was still unmoving. This time, instead of seeing the lights, she saw herself. Blood-streaked face, matted hair, wild eyes. She leaned forward a bit, caught by the intensity in her own stare. Unbalanced briefly, she teetered on the edge, gasping as she instinctually leaned back to save herself. Then she realized it. Why bother? There was nothing left to live for now, no life worth going back to. She leaned over again, and caught her own gaze. This time the eyes were terrified. She closed them tightly as the tears finally escaped, and she leaned forward and fell into the tepid water. The shock of the splash reverberated over the surface. Within a few short minutes, however, the water had returned to its mirror-like state. In the distance, the sirens grew louder as the woods hushed at the encroach of humans. ******** this was our first exercise, and this was the prompt: "Describe a landscape as seen by a young woman who has just committed murder. Do not mention the murder" it had to be one page or less. i always have trouble with that. ( 2/02/2004 02:57:00 PM ) Lisa# Autumn Wanderings The trees have leaves of flame. Yet the cold still seeps under my skin Chills my blood And numbs my toes. I wish the bright sun radiated Warmth as it pushes light Piercing through the thinning cannopy Without apology Making stinging eyes squint Through whipping winds. The back streets are alive With furry little bodies of Twirling tails that scamper Back and forth Crunching fallen flame-less brown leaves In an unending search For food. Sometimes I wish I were a squirrel. But then I see a flattened Testament to Darwin-- Only the strong will survive And car tires always win. ( 10/20/2003 11:44:00 AM ) Lisa# The Tree of Unknowing -Suji Kwock Kim Uncertainty, take me into the forest leaf by leaf-- where an immigrant sits in a Jersey slum, a young mother rocking her child. Where, along the endless road, are you going away from me like a cloud? Like a cloud, like a cloud? I lay in your arms, watching your lips. I touched your chin with my fingers. Your loneliness sang to me, each word a crumb of light, burning in the skull-- until a galaxy of sparks flashed among the branches, lighting the way where? I lifted my head. What was it I saw in your gaze, the maze of you; corridors of years, corridors of war, black wheat-hair ripening-- the last shape sown in closing eyes. The words have their own woods. Where the words can't go further: where the woods begin that make us mad, too real and not real enough. Whose memory was it? Why did I feel such joy? Look, the cloud-tree will never die-- I wonder who you were: I wonder because you were. ( 9/22/2003 10:35:00 AM ) Lisa# |
|
||
