Unmasked (aka The Botox Poem)
The waiting room is frozen in silence
except for her manicured nails tapping
on the cold metal chairs that are designed
primarily to be uncomfortable.
A fan clicks impatiently as each
of its vanes tries to escape their caged prison.
A man in a white coat walks in the room
and smiles so wide and the room
is blinded by his vain attempt to impress.
The woman shyly smiles but not enough
to wrinkle her brow, to show her crows feet.
Her mother, now sixty, is plagued
with imperfections and purple spider veins
that web around every inch of her skin.
The woman shivers at the thought
of aging, her skin folding like old worn sheets.
She wants to stay young forever, her
skin tightly woven like fine silk, smooth to touch.
He pulls out a needle and injects it
into her pale forehead, middle of the brow.
Her face goes numb and she no longer
senses that she has a face. How graceful.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Poem : Knit One, Purl Two
KNIT ONE, PURL TWO
Starting with a knot looped on a size eight
metal needle, I begin to knit.
The yarn is a thick wool that makes me itch
but my mother loved the feeling of wool.
I remember her sitting beside me
knitting with the same needles and yarn
smiling when I asked if she would teach me.
Knit one, purl two and I pull the string tight
as I loop it around the needle.
“Not too tight” she says as I hurry through
“The needle will get stuck” and she was right.
I unravel the skein so the yarn is loose
enough to work with. Knit one, purl two
and continue until the row is done.
The wool is green, her favorite color,
the green of fresh grass and new beginnings.
She said it was a color full of life.
Start a new row by flipping the needles.
Knit one, purl two and repeat until
the row is complete, then flip the needle.
I never finished one of my projects
but I feel that I will finish this one.
“Pay attention or you will drop a stitch”
her soft voice whispers in my memory.
She was always there to pick up all
the lost stitches and I quicken my pace.
As soon as I remembered her words
I dropped a stitch and watched it all unravel.
I look to my side, where she would have sat,
eyes searching for the answer before
it all falls apart. I try to grab the lost
Stitch but I miss and it sinks deeper,
pulling apart all the rows I have knit.
“Don’t be sad” she used to say “You can just
start over. The next one will better.”
Starting with a knot looped on a size eight
metal needle, I begin to knit.
Starting with a knot looped on a size eight
metal needle, I begin to knit.
The yarn is a thick wool that makes me itch
but my mother loved the feeling of wool.
I remember her sitting beside me
knitting with the same needles and yarn
smiling when I asked if she would teach me.
Knit one, purl two and I pull the string tight
as I loop it around the needle.
“Not too tight” she says as I hurry through
“The needle will get stuck” and she was right.
I unravel the skein so the yarn is loose
enough to work with. Knit one, purl two
and continue until the row is done.
The wool is green, her favorite color,
the green of fresh grass and new beginnings.
She said it was a color full of life.
Start a new row by flipping the needles.
Knit one, purl two and repeat until
the row is complete, then flip the needle.
I never finished one of my projects
but I feel that I will finish this one.
“Pay attention or you will drop a stitch”
her soft voice whispers in my memory.
She was always there to pick up all
the lost stitches and I quicken my pace.
As soon as I remembered her words
I dropped a stitch and watched it all unravel.
I look to my side, where she would have sat,
eyes searching for the answer before
it all falls apart. I try to grab the lost
Stitch but I miss and it sinks deeper,
pulling apart all the rows I have knit.
“Don’t be sad” she used to say “You can just
start over. The next one will better.”
Starting with a knot looped on a size eight
metal needle, I begin to knit.
Creative Writing : A Drive Amongst the Stars
This is an old creative writing assignment from about 2 years ago. The assignment : embrace run-on sentences.
A Drive Amongst the Stars
Its times like these when I drive around late at night letting the moon light my way and looking up to the stars to direct me where to go even though my destination is completely unknown and always has been since I started these lonely drives a few years ago but the stars never lead me anywhere new and I never seem to move even though the stars only shift slightly in the sky yet they appear to cover more miles than I ever could because every time I look up in the sky, the big dipper has dropped to give room for the little dipper and it is crazy to think that these spoons have reached heights that I could never touch but tonight I drive faster in an attempt to beat the stars until the sun suddenly rises and it dawns on me that the stars weren’t the ones moving at all.
A Drive Amongst the Stars
Its times like these when I drive around late at night letting the moon light my way and looking up to the stars to direct me where to go even though my destination is completely unknown and always has been since I started these lonely drives a few years ago but the stars never lead me anywhere new and I never seem to move even though the stars only shift slightly in the sky yet they appear to cover more miles than I ever could because every time I look up in the sky, the big dipper has dropped to give room for the little dipper and it is crazy to think that these spoons have reached heights that I could never touch but tonight I drive faster in an attempt to beat the stars until the sun suddenly rises and it dawns on me that the stars weren’t the ones moving at all.
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Book Review: The Bookman
SteamPunk strikes back! Victorian London, realistic machines, and ... Lizards? The Bookman by Lavie Tidhard brings a new spin on the steampunk genre. The story follows Orphan, a boy poet who's life changes when bombs implanted in books destroy his semi-perfect life and his love. The Bookman has returned, a terrorist who is armed with exploding books to overthrow the Lizards (yes, walking, talking reptiles!) who have taken over all high ranking positions in England. Tidhar paints a world where talking lizards and human machines are just another part of a hum-drum normal life. Orphan is chosen to find and reveal the secrets that the Bookman holds. The country is on the verge of a revolution and Orphan has been given the task to save them all...but what makes him so special?This story starts off slow but then it makes you run with it. You meet Victorian authors who aid and hinder Orphan's journey to catch the Bookman. The story line of bringing down Parliament and the Lizards echoes the plight of Guy Fawkes, Remember Remember the 5th of November! If you like steampunk, step outside the box into a more hard sci-fi take. I was hesitant about this book considering I prefer urban fantasy (Lizards in charge seems alittle out there and weird) but if I can accept vampires and werewolves...why not Lizards? Give the lizards a chance and delve into a world of mechanical mystery.
ISBN-13: 9780857660343
Saturday, November 6, 2010
Book Review : Nekropolis
Nekropolis by Tim Waggoner is the first in the Matt Richter Series. The story is told by Matt Richter, a zombie, who is a private detective new to the world of Nekropolis. While I am not one to like books that stray too far from reality, Nekropolis is an interesting world that is separate from earth. It is filled with beings of the supernatural including vampires, warlocks, lykes, and more. When a magical item is stolen from the vaults of one of the vampire overlords, Richter is hired to recover it before the renewal ceremony that keeps Nekropolis alive. Richter is not only working against time but against himself, he's falling apart and the preserving spells are no longer working. He has to race through the five realms, find the item, and save the world...before he decomposes for good.I would categorize this book a urban fantasy with a detective twist. It has the wit and humor of Harry Dresden series by Jim Butcher and the mystery and speed of the Nightside series by Simon R. Green. Matt Richter is joined by an interesting cast of characters that including an insane but punctual cab driver, a memory eating librarian, and a alluring half-breed vampire. I would recommend this book to those who like sci-fi detectives or those who are looking for something different.
ISBN-13: 9780857660138
Friday, November 5, 2010
Poem: By Panic
To give it a name gives it power,
To understand it will unleash it.
Heart beating fast, there's no calming it,
Face flushed and hands to heavy to move.
Guttural gasps for vanished air,
I could breathe before but never again.
The sweat pouring from my reddened brow,
Tells me that it is over, the end.
I wish I never knew the reason,
The cause, the final diagnosis.
Without it maybe I could have lived,
Not normal but uninterrupted,
Without this cruel new understanding,
That I will be utterly consumed.
To understand it will unleash it.
Heart beating fast, there's no calming it,
Face flushed and hands to heavy to move.
Guttural gasps for vanished air,
I could breathe before but never again.
The sweat pouring from my reddened brow,
Tells me that it is over, the end.
I wish I never knew the reason,
The cause, the final diagnosis.
Without it maybe I could have lived,
Not normal but uninterrupted,
Without this cruel new understanding,
That I will be utterly consumed.
Wednesday, November 3, 2010
Shameless Plug
After much hesitation, I finally submitted one of my pieces to Red Skies, Salem State's e-zine. So if you wish, you may read my prose piece "Night Fisherman" which was written during my trip to Martha's Vineyard. While your there, support the e-zine and read the other features!
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