Friday, April 13, 2007

a foot of snow and nowhere to go (lost and found#3)

i feel like my endless photos of shocking amounts of seasonal or off season snowfall are getting redundant at this point.
so i'm gonna get back to posting some poetry stuff that i'm reworking and such.
now, i'm a bit worried that if i post too many old poems that when the book comes out y'all won't buy one cuz you've seen em' anyway.....i'm joking....kinda.

this ones maybe a couple years old or so. I've performed it many times...comes out so differently on stage than in print. comes alive.


stark mending


I starved myself and threw up my food
for 5 years of my youth
Now
an adolescent brain doesn’t make this shit up on its own
a child
doesn’t think
“hey! I’ll just starve my poor ass into something more sellable!”
a child
just mimics what its told
fills the mold
it’s a mans world
I was
prompted
urged
coerced
seduced
forced
feeding on some dexatrim induced notion that excess was grotesque
I mean the soft give of earthy flesh
was grotesque
a young body just trying to grow
needing food and home
my hair began to fall out
die off
in huge patches of stark space
horrified
at 16 I wore wigs
to cover the life lost
to hunger pushing harder
thru the heavy doors
of emergency rooms
dehydrated delirious
they drained a blood filled sore in my throat
a pint of blood must have come from my throat
acid
washed over teeth again and again
this false start acid of digested assimilation
teasing the bile from my gut
I
was a broken girl
broken in for a good ride
broken up
broke
just a mess
I danced thru it all from 3 years old
onward mirrors of mothers support
staged
and always staring
always staring
at my reflection
I
was a broken girl
now
I’m the strongest kind of broken human
and I marvel at every plate of food I have the privilege
of digesting
every night I sleep a blessing
every hair on my head a tree in the forests
of time passing
flesh
is folds of earthy earthy excess
a history that gives beneath the weight
of coherent peace and quiet
of stillness
under construction
licking wounds no one sees
licking wounds
no one sees
the strongest kind of broken wounded
mending.

3 comments:

Jbeeky said...

I wish I could have seen this live. Wonderful and wonderful.

Mallow said...

I like this poem.. but don't know what else to say. I'm glad you are better. You are stronger than you will ever know.

Rosie said...

This hits hard and home for me.

I will so totally buy your book so I can read it over and over and mark it up with marginalia.