Saturday, October 04, 2008
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
- Total right track
- Love the voice
- excellent moments
- congratulations on a beautiful and successful draft
- I'm excited for the rest!
Last night you asked me to hurt you just a little while I tried to make love to you. I didn’t know what to do this was something too new. but you asked so I obliged pulled your hair, slapped your ass, pinched your nipples so hard I saw you fight back the tears. I hurt you more than I intended but you never told me to stop. Instead, you thanked me when we were done wrapped your arms around me and said I love you. That was the first time You said those things to me.
Tuesday, September 30, 2008
And now it is a waiting game. There are a few people looking at the rough draft, possibly ripping it to shreds. I shared five of the pieces with a family member after workshopping three of them. The family member said that my poetry is amateurish. Ouch! That's still better than the friend who said that my poetry is crap and he can't stand to read it. Which I hope explains the extremely high anxiety I am feeling right now and why I would rather forget I wrote a chapbook altogether.
After the Test Said Yes Stopped at the crossroad on 14th street, ice clean as an apple slice under my wheels, I am waiting for my turn and I don’t know yet about looking back which is why I cannot describe the color or make of what hit me, moving too fast to brake on the black, and my blue Volkswagen shoots out into oncoming lanes and once there begins to spin— and that is where time slow, like they always say, forming an opening in the day that was already thick with news. The man comes to the car window, wants to know if I’m okay, and I tell him I’m pregnant, that I just found out this morning, and he looks like he will faint, and I open the door and step out into the street, and this, I believe, is the story of conception; how my daughter used momentum and ice and velocity and impact to pierce the atmosphere and enter the world.