Thursday, December 18, 2008

Friday, October 10, 2008

I Am Here

I am here. In France. For new postings, check out my France blog here

Thursday, August 21, 2008

Monks and Hairballs and Deformed Animals. Jennifer's Visit to Salem.

Jennifer came to visit me this week. I took her to a small museum located at a monastery in Mt. Angel, Oregon. I visited this museum with my parents when I was seven or eight. I saw things in that museum that remain etched in my mind:

A collection of hairballs from the stomachs of pigs.

Deformed Calf Number 1.

Deformed Calf Number 2.

We also saw real monks. They wore long black robes, and we think the two that we encountered may have taken vows of silence.

*Alex and Jess: This is where I wanted to take you during spring break when the museum was closed because of the construction on the bell tower.

Thursday, August 14, 2008

Bryan Coffelt Preys on the Gullible

Take a nice, hard look at that sneer. You know what it means? It means I'm gonna get you Bryan Coffelt.

Wednesday, August 13, 2008

The Countdown Is On

I have two weeks until I leave for France for a year. I have started a blog to keep all of my lovelies updated on my experiences. Check it out at

Wednesday, April 16, 2008

NaPoWriMo Shame

I am terribly behind. I do, however, plan to finish my thirty days worth of National Poetry Writing Month poems. I simply won't be finishing them in April.

It's been very busy.
Good things have been happening.

I will return.

Friday, April 4, 2008

NaPoWriMo - Day 3

How Sarah Was Before and After

Move these feet in something like closeness.
Sarah could do this. Before she was Suzanne she was Sarah, and she remembered the softness of her grandmother’s arm.

When she was still Sarah, she let the bits of eye dust rise in the air and touch her nose before falling. Now it is this paint chip on the wall that reminds her of her brother

before that time.

I was taught this closeness of feet when we danced the horah with laced fingers.
Perhaps Zelig did this with the tall women he liked so much, while Sarah watched the lights of Paris from a taxi.

In Virginia, my silver necklace broke and we never found the coral ball.

In Virginia, a boy named Desmond liked to touch my hair.

In Virginia, bamboo grew next to the school.

Sarah and Max came to Virginia with names long gone. They brought me a red corduroy dress with black polka dots. I wore it through the summer heat.

Wednesday, April 2, 2008

NaPoWriMo - Day 2

Old Medicine

Marjem knows.
It is harder to learn of the things to come,
of the ridges on her ovaries and the tragedy
of shoes and skin.

The first is for her.
The second, for Israёl.

Marjem knows.
She is feeding Max butter and cheese to fatten him.
She is feeding him goat’s blood to chase away the tape worm.
Store the carp in the bath tub and chop it quickly with


I was a little girl in Illinois.
The other children ate onions from the ground
that they washed in bowls,


that the fertilizer wouldn't kill them.

Let's tie down the acres and move the fields to rotting.
Bundle up the Queen Anne's Lace that Marjem wore on her wedding day.
Gather up the little girl who wouldn't eat the onion plants.

Note: After the fish was cooked, Israёl would give Max its crunchy eyes to eat. A salty symbol of affection.

Tuesday, April 1, 2008

NaPoWriMo-DAY 1

White Circles

This is the way we sweep the sinking sadness of water.
It’s hard being out of tweak
still calling you by a different name you can’t exchange
for pennies.

These fights
These fights for something other than marzipan fruit
have made me into a box actor,
speak lines with many mouth shapes.

Let us (you and I)
slip into the edges of the husk and curl together as mealworms might.
There is room enough for Raisla
and the breadmaker
and the midwife as well.

Take the crooked fingers and straighten the veins into
highways and landing strips.
This is the way we watch the sun spots invade our face parts.
This is the way we crawl beneath our fingernails.
This is how I throw you into the white circles of my blood.

Saturday, March 22, 2008

I am High on Obama

I saw Barack Obama in Eugene last night. He was amazing.

Wednesday, March 19, 2008

Semen Rolls

Use (bath) salts in the event of nakedness.
I used to be sad sad sad.
But my fat rolls are skin rolls really.
Can you not understand my words?
I said sea minerals.

The man said he wasn’t stylish.
Just historical.
He was wearing his father’s ring and silver belt buckle.
I wasn’t listening.
I was pretending my stryrofoam cup was filled with something besides air.
I was pretending that my name was Tallulah, and I had never left South Carolina.

The plastic bear is half full of orange blossom honey.
Do you think I’m an optimist because I said half full?
I’d like to introduce myself based on things you can’t know.
Perhaps I’ll take root behind your smile.

My father tells me I frown in my sleep.
The young kids took pictures of me with my eyes slightly open.
I will mark this book with a hair stroke.
God damn the sodden wrinkles.
The wrinkling layers of snowdrifts.

I believe in ghosts.
Remember Guy Tudor’s cat?
And the blue woman?
And the face of Pat’s mother?
What about Raisla and Gitla? Esther and Zelig?

Thursday, March 6, 2008


On the ground outside of Susanne Homes

Tuesday, March 4, 2008


I am thinking about heart murmurs. I am thinking about my heart murmur. And my father’s. And my grandfather’s. I am thinking about Josephine baker. I am thinking about patterns in the birdseed. I am thinking about antique cap guns. I am thinking about what it means to be jilted. I am wondering if it’s worth going back. I am wondering if I’m pretty enough. I am thinking about Ohio and Texas. I am thinking about the things in my eyes. I am thinking about a man named Zelig. I am thinking about my mother’s wedding ring. I am thinking about fine French dining. I am thinking about the day Elena and I went swimming at Spinaker Point and we swam very far from shore and Molly had to rescue us and the seaweed felt like eels tangling around our legs. I am thinking I am wasting time. I am contemplating fleeing the country. I am wanting an easy answer. I am learning to trust my spine.

Wednesday, February 27, 2008

First Quarter

You look for faces in the neap tide.
Is my face not enough?
Can we be more than victims?
Hollow out the insides lovely.
Bring the charcoal splinters to my feet.
The tines are sharp and ready.

There is a button in my chest that fastens shut
the rib bones.
I can feel it snug and tight and nice.
You have left your mark with the sighing things.

It is not an easy answer.
I know this now.
The inky smudges fill my eye place.
This is what you’ve done.

Tuesday, January 29, 2008

So You'll Know

If I could, my dear,
I’d shape you like a muse and watch you shift to something else.
If you asked me, darling,
I’d call your blindman’s bluff and hang the hunted hands till dawn.
In a dream, baby,
We’d fall into our bones and play a game of cat and mouse.
Was it you, lover?
Who grinned away the trees and let my idol shine the best?
So you’ll know, sweetheart,
I’ll transplant all my half-blown tears into your blood to see them move.
If I waited, boy,
My sighs would count a thousand years into a speck of salty sea.
If I waited if
I waited
If I