irresponsible blogger

irresponsible
blogger: hasn't posted since
sunburnt peeled away.

irresponsible intern part 2

irresponsible
intern: she is just
killing time til 5

irresponsible intern
"the power went off at
my house," she said.
"my alarm turned off."
liar.
she hit sleep too
many times, and suddenly
it was an hour later, as
she dreamed about the
boyfriend she hasn't been
talking to for the
past four days.
she gained an hour of
sleep, but is tired already.

flight plan

the summation of vacation

clearing.
sand being pulled--pushed--re--
formed.

percived world

today
the second Thursday of the month waking up at 11
I will transcribe
for my sister still schoolbound at
“a blue ribbon school of excellence”
messy journal entries
“I wish I had a tape player to record the things he says”
cherylin said, who skimmed her pink notepad with stars
that said simply for that day “ego”

twelve pages of notes to self
the first family debacle full of to do lists &
spoken threats
I will edit down & cut to pieces
“shut up before I hit you”
the deadline of forgetting about it
like a real father
& she will probably never read it

why am I wasting time
that could be paying me to lift lumber
for poetry?

real world

today
the first tuesday of the month at 7 pm
i will cover
for the hearthstone town and country,
"serving the upper perkiomen valley for 108 years"
the bally borough council meeting
"we like to keep the meetings short and simple," said brenda,
council secretary, who wore a leapord print shirt
and looked bored the whole meeting

with four pages of notes and quotes
an hour and a half of handicapped parking and
rogue ballpark baseball debacles
i'll write the article tonight
300 words for $30
before the 9 am deadline tomorrow morning
like a real journalist
although they'll probably cut my lead
"the borough of bally council is knee-deep in sludge"

why aren't there internships
that pay
for poetry?

homephone

i don't even have
text messaging
on my phone.
My stepfather dis-
connected it
because he didn't want
to pay the bill.

For my birthday
i will ask him
for a new cell phone
which he can likely
get for free
& then disable the
text messaging features.

an on-vacation post

There is something very
desperate in being excited
to get a text message, finding
one not there, resigning to
send it yourself, trying to
capture missing/love/carefree
at the same time in a few
thriftily arranged consonants,
then waiting for a return
message you already know won't
meet your expectations, or at
least match (in your eyes) the
same missing/love/carefree
that it is replying to.

libel

a statement damaging a person
would be considered libelous
if more than three people read
this published post.

catch phrase

these are some words that i think could up our hits on that nifty world wide viewage list.
my theme: tv & movies

american idol
the da vinci code

Full House--Train Set

stand up & look outside a window.

argh

interview at noon
responsibility will
always be too much

Two Fortune Cookie Fortunes in One Day!

I wake up an hour before my alarm (set at 8:30).

I sit at the computer,
Full of too-early-morning yawns,
Where someone left me their
Good intentions:
Plan your work and work your plan.
Europe: Ou-zhou

Later we get sweet and sour (chicken),
And watch the sun fall through the trees,
After a day of vomit, papers,
And motorcycle tears:
You will be showered with good luck.
Telephone: Dian-hua.

I go to bed hours early (10:30).

Found Poem in Boehm

There is a girl crying in the hallway.
"Don't even worry about it, Katie,
He's a fucking asshole,"
The other says, standing at arms-length away.
Katie cries, the water fountain between them.

Note: What do you think about the punctuation in this? Too rigid, or does it ground it?

Spring Haiku

Sharp intake of breath
And we are coming alive
New baby green leaves

Intro to a paper for contemporary issues in professional writing

Please just let me shit out a paper for tues-morrow
because I cannot get on with my life or sleeping habits without a large dissertation on some element of the First Amendment in regards to Vanessa Leggett and whatever other fancy connection I may come up with in my quick searching of Ebscohost using only full-text scholarly journals perfectly cited MLA and never forget the AP stylebook that I purchased just for the class so I can pass and remember to maintain a 2.5QPA in the core required classes so if I were to just say fuck this paper fuck the first amendment and what it means and how it effects me and how I understand its power and implications but do not care to woo a teacher with formal writing about the subject my head would just explode
no.
I would rather write about robots fighting other robots and people who control them but are actually controlled by the robots because there really aren’t any robots it is just a loose metaphorical term for the people surrounding me connected to cell phones and keyboards going through motions regurgitating First Amendment rhetoric for A+’s across the boards that I don’t want to face that I don’t want to drag me down and I don’t want a simple paper accolade
no.
I want to slip a note under Dr Reed’s door with a poem about a spring afternoon lost in a labyrinth of academia piles of dead winter trees yellow autumn leaves burying me before I can break a red pen on the floor so everyone thinks I died but instead I escape through a portal and now only write in green ink in tiny notebooks in hammocks in the afternoon with cool drinks by my side and at night I retreat to my hut in the trees and make a symphony of typewriter sounds as I weed out the terrible words written about the sad times before the rebellion against the rules
and now I don’t wear shoes or cut my hair and even though I have a sunburn most of the time coconut juice always satisfies my hunger

porn

i was so tempted to use a really nasty hyperlink here.

remember when: a wandering

remember the nights when we were just like this
and i couldn't breath from holding my breath in my chest
beating like a drum like a rain dance like clapping thunderclouds
and no rain came
remember the nights that you never told me about
and i sat in the dark
the rug sparking around my feet like a tiny storm of commets
falling in the blackness behind my open eyes
and i sat
remember the nights when i called and left messages
that you never heard under the clamor
of voices and promises and tipping chins and screams
that i could not give voice to
in thirty seconds after a mechanical beep
so i said nothing
remember the nights when i waited and waited for the shower
and heat mixed with cold pounding drops
on my back and my knotted head of hair from shaking my head
no over and over in your eyes in my head
but i meant it
remember the nights like a spilled glass of water
i slipped from myself spilled out myself on the floor
unvacuumed for weeks, the dust settling in the emptiness
of your voice and
oh so many
poems about emptiness
and shit that happens
but really doesn't
but it feels like it
happens
and hurt this much
i'm exaggerating for no reason
except for to give reason
to the sick i feel
growing like a
living, breathing
lump
in my large intestines
and any other organs
that i can remember from
middle school.