Filed under Poetry

Dear Cosmo –An Open Slam

Dear Cosmo

I’ve been having a little trouble recently, and I was hoping that you could help
to begin, see, my hair isn’t as long or as flowing as the models twixt your pages
and I couldn’t help but notice that Manic Panic Shocking Blue isn’t listed
on the hottest hair colors of the season, so I guess
I must be doing it wrong.
I read with great delight the 50 newest ways to please your man, and the funniest thing was
that nowhere did I see anything about being there for him when he’s sick, or helping him through the last level of Mario Brothers or showing any semblance of a personality, but I tried swirling my tounge
around the base of his penis,
and I guess he seemed to like it.
Next month I’m going to Washington DC
because I won a big deal scholarship
and I just don’t know what to wear–
Maybe you could help.
Exactly how much skin do I have to show to prove that I’m a woman?
How much cleavage do I need to cover in shimmer powder to prove that my words have power?
What shade of fingernail polish says “Pleased to meet you, Mr. President, it is an honor to be here today performing for you”?
I suppose “Magnetic Red” will have to do.
Last week, my boyfriend didn’t want to have sex with me, which, according to you,
means that either he’s depressed or I’ve gained weight recently
which I have, so I guess it’s all my fault.
See, I decided finally that it was better to gain a little weight and stop shoving my fingers down my throat after every meal
but I guess I can’t be happy
unless I look just like them, which is fine
except they’re so small
and my dreams are so big
that I don’t know if they’ll fit into a size 0.

Tagged , , ,

Shakespeare For A Minute

There was this minute
right between the rough draft and the final copy
somewhere
when I was Shakespeare
I was Shakespeare like a sonnet like hitting and running 14 times
the words just sort of spilled forth, in pentameter anyway
page after page but the only thing they said was
I love you.
I was Shakespeare then, and Ginsberg and Marlowe and even JK Rowling
I was literature and poetry and every corner of the earth
conspiring to say just these two words
I was Mozart with a t in the middle and Beethoven and every power of the globe
Just waiting
breathless
terrified of being close but finding that the safest place
I know is that spot right between your shoulder and your chest
where my head fits, just right
and I was Shakespeare in that moment
I was every stupid love poem and story ever told
I was fighting through the grey and finding my way out
slowly but surely, all because of you
and oh god was I Shakespeare, writing reams inside my mind
trying to remember exactly what I said,
Willing myself to write but choosing instead
to enjoy the warmth of your arm
around me, willing you to stay there
just like that, perfectly preserve the moment
like you can never do on film,
streams and reams of consciousness flying at the speed of light
my socks falling down below my knees and wondering
if this is going to last
like Shakespeare wondered maybe
if anyone would come
pacing and waiting and hoping until suddenly
I was Shakepeare in that moment.

 

Or something. Don’t screw and slam. lessons learned.

Magnifyer

time creates a looking glass
as senses fade and faces pass
along the broken sidewalks along the sunny side of town

i’ll over look the cracks and with my whole heart
come home to you.

A Children’s Story by Catie

So today there were mashed potatoes in the caf, and they were delicious. I wanted to eat more, so I brought some back with me, but it was snowing outside, and I yelled “I don’t like snow on my mashed potatoes”. Then we got back to the room, and Abby took a shower, and I wrote this:

Sidney Tulanska lived in Alaska in a tiny small town by the sea
he’d look out the window and Sidney would hate what he’d see
Snow! Tons of snow!
There was snow all around
snow on the rooftops and snow on the ground
there was snow on the sidewalks, on driveways and cars
and the poofy grey snow clouds would cover the stars.

Sidney said nothing and bided his time
but while he was biding the snow started to climb
higher and higher till it covered the brush
and the streets and the sidewalks were covered with slush
the snow blew and drifted and covered the trees
and made snowy patterns in the cold winter breeze

Sidney was fed up! He had had just enough
and when he woke up his kitchen was filled with the stuff!
The windows had opened while it snowed through the night
and the snow covered his kitchen all the way to the lights.

There was snow on the counters and snow on the chairs
Snow in the the freezer and snow in his hair.
There was snow in the fork drawer and snow filled the pots
There was snow over everything! Snow! Lots and lots!

Now try to imagine how Sidney must feel
having to wear snow shoes to eat the noon meal
Having to shovel to get to the fridge
and constantly asking where your white kitty is

Sidney was mad and he started to pout
then suddenly Sidney cried “Hey!” with a shout.
“I dont like snow in my mashed potatoes
and I dont like snow with my ham
I’m tired of snow in my hair and my toes
I just want to get out and see sand!

So Sidney Tulanska moved to Hawaii where the beaches are sunny and hot
and where ever he went he was always reminded the one thing alaska had not:
Sand! Tons of Sand!
There was sand all around
sand on the rocks and the trees
sand that was carried hot tropic breezes
and sand underneath Sidney’s knees
sand in the carpet and sand on the beach
and there was sand in places that sid couldn’t reach.

One day Sidney was walking and he stubbed his toe
and as he looked down he found himself missing snow
Sidney missed the cold breezes and warm winter fires
he missed putting great big chains on his tires
he missed making snow men and snow ball and forts
He missed drinking cocoa bundled up on the porch
he missed slippy sliding around on the ice
and so Sidney though a trip would be nice

So Sidney Tulanska moved back to Alaska
and made only one small remark
“Sand and sun are fun for some
but some of us have snow in our hearts”

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