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[06 Dec 2009|06:59pm] |
Friday I saw Mathia Svalina read at Gist Street. He was really wonderful. Here is one of his poems from "Destruction Myth."
Creation Myth
My mother & father are both chemists. They light their ranch-style home with Bunsen burners & drink from glass beakers. They created the universe in 1968 when they dripped one foul-smelling chemical into a clear chemical that smelled like ice & formed my brother. The universe was a small apartment in South Side Chicago. My Aunt & Uncle lived downstairs inside a camera lens.
Each morning my mother & father would drip chemicals from an eyedropper into a frying pan & the chemicals became French toast. When I was five they created a city that they called New Orleans. They created fire ants & water moccasins. When I was ten they created a new kind of bone that breaks.
My mother & father, the chemists, stayed up late every night mixing chemicals into new creations, their goggles steaming up with concentration. They created tall neighbors with cigarettes & dry hands. They created aboveground pools with blue plastic sides. Toilets full of urine. Collies. New hats. Things I could never have imagined appeared every morning like tents.
When I clip my nails I watch the clippings dissolve immediately into chemicals. Likewise with cut hair. When I die I will prove my mother & father correct. The chemicals into which my body will wilt will be stored on a wooden shelf in brown bottles with rubber stoppers. I had a perfect moment of clarity in the back of Mike Bunn's car while Pittsburgh unfolded into a paper swan. Even this I know they created with chemicals.
There was a shining new bike. There was a dog that jumped into my bed. There was a red bottle. A set of nun-chucks. A yellow dress. Every new thing made me cry tears of bromine, which immediately evaporated. It was a laboratory. I was a child
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[30 Nov 2009|10:29pm] |
There is nothing more inspiring than going to office hours and discussing possible paper options with your professor. Hey college! Hey academia! I'm not a complete waste! I think Fall semester is always going to be the worst. But all hope is not lost! Spring is generally a better time for studies.
Life is like this right now: listening to "The Execution of All Things" on the record player in a warm living room with your friendfamily all reading books, coffee with lots of soymilk cinnamon & sugar, packing sack lunches of butter beans and Gala apples every morning, having a boyfriend who feels warm sunshine, finally being able to pull all of your hairs into a small ponytail
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| Unlabeled CDR Blues |
[29 Nov 2009|12:25pm] |
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Around middle school, I was deeply devoted to twee and d.i.y. pop and all that. I would scour the internet for mp3s from any tiny bands and labels with toy instrumentation or handclaps or whathaveyou. IAll that remains from this time are 25+ CDRs, full to capacity with sugary sweet songs. These songs are unbearably catchy and I want to make them mine again! The trouble is that I didn't label the tracks. FRUSTRATION!
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