savvy sarah ten feet tall

So I've met a girl who is like the living Sarah. I've always considered her my alter ego but yeah. this is bad. poetry to follow.

"they never even thought to ask your name"

I feel the need to post something so here is this. I don't feel like posting anything newer. This was written (i think) the day after "troof". It's pretty similar in subject matter, but I think it's better. I re-read it last nite and was pleasantly surprised.

"troof #2"

this is what i do when i'm desperate
i listen to "all the umbrellas" on repeat
and erase your pictures from my phone
i ignore the fact that you're a twenty minute walk away
all of this, this is all

i can either do that, or disappear
but to disappear i'd have to undo everything
cut my hair, cut all ties
move to a new state, and change my name
it's easier to suffer, it really is

what if instead i showered you with words?
called you at one am with tears on my neck?
i could whistle a sea chanty, and hide in my hands
the backlash would be imminent
i need to pretend i'm safe

i'll continue to pray, and deny every urge
if it ever happens it
won't be because of me
or i'll have to go paint houses
back where it doesn't rain

The second line is a reference to the song "All the Umbrellas in London"  by The Magnetic Fields. It is one of the most depressing songs ever written, and is dear to me. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tnLLR4QwEPY

Here is this because people seem to like it:

"for terri"

i wanted to sit with you in your garden

and talk about the iris

i wanted to listen to your voice as i sipped sweet tea

still, i can feel your spirit, and i know it continues

i will carry a piece of you forever

a treasure, a flower in the soil of my heart

you were something to be shouted for

i am blessed that you knew my name

you encouraged me to love, and to watch my mouth

and, i am bigger because of it

you called me "the picky poet", and played up my strengths

you stood, and struggled with me when i couldn't hold myself

i hope it's warm wherever you are

i hope the breeze blows just the right way

i hope you're with those you love

and i know you're kicking ass just same

rambles

These lines:

i cling to deliberate things
my lover's breast, her hot, soft kiss

are from a late '07 poem called "success". I'm pretty sure it'll make the cut for ex-girlfriend. I like those lines a lot. I'm rarely that specific when I write, I know exactly who I was talking about here. The word deliberate can be taken so many different ways, which is why I like it.
It's odd looking back at work. It;s like looking at grainy photographs. It's fun going through these old poems. I can't wait to see what recent(ish) stuff will look like when I start compiling for gravity. This next stanza is from an aborted cycle called "marriages". I was high from the success of "birth" ( http://blogs.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=blog.view&friendId=43456899&blogId=412443892) when I tried to write that. I'm going to attempt to cannibalize what I can from that.

i'm married to this city, it was a simple ceremony
i got drunk, puked on her shoes
signed the papers, went to sleep in a bush
it wasn't the best of beginnings
but at least expections started low

Aw ha. Those are favorites. Anyhow, nothing to report. Life is threatening to get better. We'll see.

http://claraluzia.com/lines.html

"silence is a sound"


i’m falling, why am I falling down?
gravity is a bitch, and silence is a sound
songs i'd rather not be reminded of
they kick, and banter, and they shove

growing timid, as vapor as a slave
sweet devil, it's your voice i save
i go into my wilderness i come out scarred
mama, no one told me failure would be this hard

but as i lie, and attempt to tolerate
i yell, and pray away the bad voices that scrape
at my icky lungs, borrowed travelers from foreign town
i ache, i collapse, but get up without a frown

i brush off, and i'm standing, still
reminding the world that i'm not too ill
finicky and fucked, with the patience of a  child
i'm wounded, but the look in my eyes is wild




See? See what I did there? Not only is this a first draft, it rhymes. I haven't written in rhyme in god knows how long. I wanted to try it, though. Mostly, to see if I could but I was given the first two lines and I wanted to make them work which meant I needed another fourteen rhyming lines. I like it. I hope you do too.
If I ever finish compiling "things your ex-girlfriend said"; "gravity is a bitch" is the tentative title of chapbook 3. I've been deliberating over this for a while, but now that I have a poem with the line it has more of a chance. Unlike 1 and 2 this will be mostly newer poems, which is why I'm trying to be careful about what I post here. I have an unfinished poem called "elliott smith's blues" that will hopefully make the cut, if I can finish it.
Other stuff I'm working on.. I've been thinking about my neighbors cycle again, and I have an idea for another  called "east coast world". That title has been in my head for like six years. I'm also pretty sure I now have enough ammunition for another project that isn't poetry.

"lord knows i've been trying"

"winter (10/10/10)"

i'm begging the night to dissolve itself
this season i'm begging for a change
for questions to implode
for 1 + 1 to no longer = 2

i'm bigger than the bitches i barter with
i throw cigarettes at tourists but
i'm always alone in baking cold
watching for a sign to pray to, i go grasping for a center

so, take me out somewhere
where swimming isn't allowed
return your poisoned promises back to their origins
i've been talking, but i've been closing my eyes

as i write hymns for the season i long for
more inarticulate intricacies to sow the ground
lover you're gone, or lover you're loud
but i'll be here forever, and i'll remember every word

"i should probably apologize"

to deny the urge
 for a shit or a sandwich
instead to go out fucking, and fuck something instead
to grope at futility, and know it's the only thing

cramming my ears with haunting
sending clipped flowers to strangers
i wrinkle and i wash and i watch and i wade
and i never know my way

i'm going to take you away from yourself
i'm going to show you bigger than your issues
plant a seed, but if it rots
you're fucking typical, and ill

no matter how i mutter the sanity won't creep
no matter how many unfulfilled former brides
i come in contact with
i'll still be safe and sighing

To first understand the second poem, here are some Will Oldham lyrics:


"kid of harith"
O will I be faithfull to you
And never to separate, now you have found me
Or will I, regardless, be true to how you
Think that I am and know that I should be

I watch things painted on public walls, now
But I see other things as well, behind
But right fuck in front of my spirit is how
The real road's laid out in a line

I see it lit up, headlights and lightening
While your eyes are fixed on the dark of the car
I no longer cry, I don't find it frightening
But wound up and bound up, so near where you are

For how can it be, to be so much with you
When there are those that totally laugh at me
I pray so often that some fluid will pass through
While I slowly strengthen my vocabulary

It isn't an urge, it is more like a duty
To begin to explore again things of the world
To resaturate skin with injections of beauty
And to mess with, undress with some jewel

And I think you will not notice, do you
As I am only wind and weather, only to you


I had just bought a copy of Palace's Arise, therefore. It's probably my favorite thing Oldham has done. I'm aware I'm in the vast minority in here. I was reading lyrics, and here are more, from "disorder"


 To see in me a promise of what I could give
And I to see in her a reason to live
Which was past just a symbol of woman and luck
That I would never be lacking for something to fuck

And one to fuck over when things would decide
That it was once again time to go for a ride
We felt we must seize the weather, and never the whim
To be led by the other and not the whithin 

So, obviously to me is the influence, esp. in the first stanza. I started it on a bus and finished it on an escalator in a light rail station. Maybe it would've been different if I had written it in other circumstances but it's the best thing I've written in a while.
The other poem.. it's a winter poem. # 3 in fact. That is all.

yesterday, i went out to her gravesite

“static/silk”

and we should throw static at silk

sniffling our way underground

as if we should die of shock

if our spirit were willing to do what we asked it to

the wood pile piled high with aggresion

light as air but ready to burst

at any moment we will

shrug off our desires and discover new burdens

this is the way we wish we could confront our deities

like we could warm up to the sun, and eat it

the literal truth is much less articulate

like rubbing a new wound in old milk

if I tried harder would it get me any further?

I’m afraid there might be some things I’m too small to compete with

I’ve counted each minute of desperation

I’ve found  answers but they only precede new questions

This is likely going to be the opening piece in my next chapbook.  It's from March '08, I think. It fits well with my current mood.

School is in and I'm procrastinating on homework. My computer keeps doing things I didn't ask it to. I'm complaining a lot. I'm frustrated with a lot of thing, but if I got my way I probably wouldn't be happy then either. Life, goddamn you for making me live. Occasionally I miss being able to do nothing but drink. Then, I remember that didn't really work either. I watch my friends. I pray a lot. And I hope. Oh, god do I hope.