Tuesday, February 23, 2010

I'm Only Blogging Because I'm Afraid of My Homework

I try not to use this space to whine and moan about my work load. Generally, I've had a fairly stress-free semester so far. This week, however, feels like that dream I have sometimes where I'm in a building or on the top of a ladder and it comes crashing slowly, slowly down, so I can see my death coming. I wish I could close my eyes, open them again, and find myself in next week already. Pray for me, friends, pray for me.

Here are some pictures:

My sister and I took a daytrip to Hot Springs this summer. This sign has been there since I was a child. I just noticed that one of the fudge flavors is "sour balls." Southpark has totally corrupted me.

I believe I took this picture at Calloway Gardens. Pretty, right?

This is me and Margaret at her family's BEACH HOUSE. We're drinking gin and tonics.

I took this picture last Easter on Emory's campus. I'm so ready for spring this year.

This is me and my dad at the Cyclorama, which was a total trip. We both have an affinity for Civil War weaponry. I like how we're smiling and pointing that cannon right at the viewer.

And here's me (little blonde girl in front) acting like a total and complete weirdo. I still sing and dance obliviously to the soundtrack in my head, I've just gotten better at hiding it. I got to be in the homecoming parade when I was six. I loved it because I got to miss school one day to pick out those dresses with my friend, Abbe. Plus I got to wear a wrist corsage like the big girls and got tons of attention. Aren't the homecoming princesses dresses the height of '80's awesomeness?

Friday, February 19, 2010

Poets are Humans, Too

  • Cabine du Sucre

When i die,

I will go to the sugar house.

that place


no one can tell the difference

between my body

and the supple sacchrine shine
of the boiling sap

we squeeze fat luxuries
from the dying glory of the maples.

Queen Winter,

---her crystal starry-ness coaxing carbon eclipse,

watermarking Douglass firs and constellation furriers ---

lowers me

My bier of snow
to finalize my perfection.

  • in a dry and weary land

i rest

my temple

against the sinuture

of your mouth

my eyes, heavy-dry,

press parched patterns of death

            lashes tapping out my need

on the cool liveliness of your cheek

Willa Cather's characters -

-their infinitude winking across my horizon like prairie grass -

bless this pleasure

Dense duty flashes his face to the door of our oasis
A protest.