anna kiss
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anna kiss
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verse occurs it happens that i am looking at my fingernails, turning my head around, humming to myself, rubbing my hands through my hair and mussing it, squinting and rubbing my head, urging the headache out, it happens that i am language-less, that i am attempting to do what i committed myself to, but without a map, without a guide, and my steps become slow and my lips bitten in search for a distraction, for a method of escape it happens that often there are many other requirements: pajamas to be pulled on, teeth brushed, stories read, tears wiped and tea made laundry washed and folded and put away it happens that there is always something else besides a dedication to writing there is always work to do and things to scrub the poetry can always wait it happens that in the waiting i live the life i write and find the words folded amidst the towels find the alliteration scrubbed in the grout of the bathroom tiles recover the metaphors in the taking of pills, the washing of dishes i need not look around and turn my head too far to find the meaning i instill in myself and the method with which to articulate it. posted by anna kiss @ 2/28/2007 11:26:00 PM |
2.28.2007  |
absurdity the absurd visits me in decided non-hilarity it is unfunny it sits beside me on the bus, hollow-cheeked and sunken-lids swallows hard with dry mouth thin frail hands clutch dirty balls of tissues the absurd talks in cackle voice of webbed fingers and dog faced children whispers curses and bites off the skin around its nails all the while the absurd licks the cracked, white-powdered corners of its mouth talks rapidly and unendingly fidgets its fingers rustles its feet tells stories that sound of graveyards and empty schoolyards swings swaying in a late-fall chill like the intro to a horror film the absurd's stories are filled with dark characters and tragic characters pussy stomach tubes piss-soaked wheelchairs, wheels rusted, the tenebrosity of old age and illness, it is the spiral out of youth without the wisdom of age, meaning never found, few truths uncovered, it will end as it all began it is the irrational step of a measured existence, a futility in bloodflow. posted by anna kiss @ 2/27/2007 11:37:00 PM |
2.27.2007 |
yet to do lists uncoil at the touch of my fingertips and the urge of my memory. the mind wanders about rooms, spreads the tongue about the mouth, licking the lips for the taste of words, the familiar spurred reminded requirement eyes flash open, memory installed, the spark plugged appropriately, the outlet let in proper positioning and all my dreams reduced to the pathetic eagerness of domestic minutiae. posted by anna kiss @ 2/26/2007 12:48:00 AM |
2.26.2007 |
regarding reiki the magnet of my memory pulls hands toward and out my heart, thumps trembles, noises, and adolescent brain-addled endeavors this moment shudders me, frees blood for flowing, the energy courses, finds the path and plows it open, something occurs to negate the numbness something here interrupts the blockage and i feel again, sense the texture of my corduroy clothing palm the ridges ply the uneven winter woolens the water poured beneath my skin plumps it ready for the leveling of postures prepares me for the regulation of each heartbeat each moonbeam caught in the glass of my eye becomes the sudden stillness that standardizes my thought and action balances me for new beginnings rebirths me thinking and feeling, the hands and body freed from the constraints of complaint and time steadily unearthed me from the ill-kept tempo of circumstance. posted by anna kiss @ 2/25/2007 08:50:00 PM |
2.25.2007 |
painting the living room the shade of paint he announces excites me so, i feel unreasonable it is rare that something so mundane as the tone of a pear would make me smile and continue to lighten my face each time i think of the matter again. posted by anna kiss @ 2/24/2007 08:29:00 PM |
2.24.2007 |
mended skin the scars on me, your yellow shine, expanded and swollen across the plain pale flesh that regularly encases me the scars on my brain and heart, the imprints and impressions left behind by arguments by breakups by months gone by without illumination, without even the flash of lightening to expose a hint of hope amidst the darkness scars grow up the trunk of me from my toes to the tip of my crown, stretch as vines around me, at moments smothering and overwhelming sprouted down my throat and to the pit of my belly these marks scrawled upon me smoothed over everything that pained me, that broke me and finally healed me, holding me stiffly in its husk-hardened embrace. posted by anna kiss @ 2/23/2007 08:31:00 PM |
2.23.2007 |
block i can’t dig into the thoughts, i can’t find the way into myself to see the words form across the back of my skull to feel my mood shift and the shiver echo over the cold of my skin i can’t get in i can’t remember the code or find the hidden latch my secret handshake has gone, escaped the memory of my hands the thoughts do not form the words do not fit my poetry unravels before it’s born ends abruptly and doesn’t answer when i call. posted by anna kiss @ 2/22/2007 05:41:00 PM |
2.22.2007 |
writing twenty-eight poems the subtle churn of monotony the focus of my symphony, the mundane transposed against infinity: the composition of this poetry. posted by anna kiss @ 2/21/2007 01:22:00 PM |
2.21.2007 |
treasure mapped wilted lenses drip puddles of hidden agonies the truth is not here it rests behind the skin of you my teeth tightened my wounds remain raised to the air flesh peeled back, welcoming i feel the shudder crept spineward, unearthed fear and sorrow, surely thicker than the moonlight. the joys were not depended the ordered not accounted subtle pieces pasted in obvious retarded kitchen wall glory the tale of these sins departed for witness and all i am is a faith-based mock-up, a joke of excerpts and excuses for serendipitous exchanges my hands emptied of responsibility from the sum of this existence. posted by anna kiss @ 2/20/2007 01:33:00 AM |
2.20.2007 |
astonishment at the intersection of reality and intention it seems, at times, not possible that i could be responsible for this existence that i am the adult in this situation it seems futile to assume that i would not should not be the one screaming my head off, my emotional well being sprung a leak and steam pouring through in rageful glaring and guttural shouting it seems unreasonable that i should check myself become aware of my surroundings sustain the worldly order and let the abuses of all others slide in their forgetful sock-thrown-aside manner (that that should, in my mind, constitute abuse is equally asinine). and where do i step over the line between resentment and guilt? where is it? i do not ever see it, yet sense its immenseness in its indistinctness its significance shadows its slenderness it is there, yet immeasurable. i travel all about in the emotional war-zones of my house know not how to handle it know not how not to. my mind can see but my heart is blind i am selfish and i wear on everything leaving the impression of my sighs, indentations of my rolled eyes and bit lips in the carpet and the furniture and all over the faces of my spouse and children. posted by anna kiss @ 2/19/2007 12:44:00 AM |
2.19.2007 |
sunday my limbs do not lift my senses fail my head sits in a cloud, eyelids sunk the day is slow-going agony, no amount of caffeine propels me the stillness of my body belies the movement of this world my mind stirs in irritation frustration with the dumbness of aching hands that do not do bloated numb fingers all thumbs thick logs attempting needlework the shudder in me is a shifting tension, rising to meet my surfaces, with no explosion, no sudden sound, just a gurgling, and a growl announcing this affliction, this paralysis, as reasoning enough to leave me be. posted by anna kiss @ 2/18/2007 12:35:00 AM |
2.18.2007 |
knitting sebastian’s scarf fire twisted round bamboo stakes tiny v’s unfurling, lengthening into warmth for baby boy’s throat a mode to hold the heat in with all the elements of embers: red, pink, orange, a sparkling hint of gold to stave off the icy blue hues of this frozen landscape to keep out ten below gusts which shake and shiver him his pinkened cheeks and nose dried and dusty his nostrils swelling watery protection and mamas hands there to shelter him when she herself is not. posted by anna kiss @ 2/17/2007 10:49:00 PM |
2.17.2007 |
friday neuromuscular electrical stimulation electro amputation muscle re-education spasm, flex, atrophy what's the next catastrophe? posted by anna kiss @ 2/16/2007 12:49:00 PM |
2.16.2007 |
father your canned salmon stunk up the whole of the kitchen darling’s veganness could not sustain it he plugged his nose and clenched his teeth in fury but luckily settled to leave you with the children and scuttle up the middle of the icy street to the japanese restaurant to devour seaweed salad and miso soup, sucking down hot tea in ceramic cups to stave off the frigidness of blizzarded valentine’s. posted by anna kiss @ 2/15/2007 05:47:00 PM |
2.15.2007 |
valentine i have always failed at putting precisely into words the whys and hows of loving you there are no sounds sprung out my mouth, no thoughts abuzzing to tell me what the pages remain ever empty i know it is there it beats inside me with my pulse the blood flowed to meet my cheeks the scar of you imprinted in me the scent of you emblazoned in my memory knowing you has been like knowing myself yet with mystery always the mystery i cannot say it i know not how to speak it my hands remain open, waiting for the words of you, i know only how to love you it is in my breath in my every step in my belly swollen and emptied again the boys run all about the house, their faces your face, i know only your taste, your touch, the feel of your skin on my skin, every moment of our lifetime together, the sound of you in the kitchen the murmurs you make in your sleep i know you i know you - and i love you and love you and love you, without the words, without a sound made or a notion whispered, it is here, written all over me, and will last until you and i are but dust, words no longer necessary. posted by anna kiss @ 2/14/2007 01:47:00 PM |
2.14.2007 |
blizzard snow buries us falls in heaps and in mounds, traps all underneath the landscape a blank page, a clean canvas, so much become nothing then scribbles and scratches of passersby and vehicles, a cacophony amidst the silent whiteness children bundled eyeball to toenail slide down driveways and hillsides their laughter goes nowhere, becomes trapped, no hard surfaces off which to echo i dig in deeply in sweater and in blanket bound home, awaiting the thaw. posted by anna kiss @ 2/13/2007 01:16:00 PM |
2.13.2007 |
psychic powers of the intranet my computer seems to be keeping track of me the google bar in firefox knows what i’m about to type i suspect it also concludes why the search bar in microsoft has been alerted to my most recent workings, citing “monthly news letters” as the example for what to search for in the elaborate cyberworld of ms office online templates it read my brain, or my type concluded from just one word, or perhaps the format of my publisher document that i was writing the monthly co-op newsletter i suppose that if i choose to insert a piece of clipart, the image of a plastic shopping bag would appear, the binary psychic in my pc tower having inferred that the article i wrote was about the toxicity of polyethylene sacks go away fortune teller, your powers are undoubtedly but for evil, you want nothing more than to persuade me to buy something, i am sure of it. posted by anna kiss @ 2/12/2007 01:00:00 AM |
2.12.2007 |
ode to kai ryssdal you talk like a game-show host, you beckon me to take you seriously, to forget that the whole of your show is merely a vaguely liberal appraisal and applausal of capitalism, as though America, its politicians, its celebrities, its puppets weren’t all jizzing all over themselves in celebration of money, of the products they parrot, in order to continue the moving of the machine the march forward, the growing of pocketbooks under the pressure of consumption by housewives with amnesia bratty teenagers with the cash they whined for, and the hoards of poor throwing away their lives at wal-mart you beg me to forgive, turn a blind eye, you do it with such swagger, your voice tilted in a smirked grin, you smarmy whore of a man, celebrating and selling, talking about the numbers, from the frank stanton studios in los angeles where the cars are always moving, eating the oil, the fuel of the machine, smogging the air and emboldening the chrome dream of all its immigrants, come to the city of angels for the hope of a prayer, searching for salvation in the supermarket, shopping as a good citizen should. you let me down, kai, your machinations are void of meaning your ken doll voice asks no substantial questions, seeks no fundamental truth. you leave me empty, feeling the hollowness of my bank account, forgetting the importance of my heart, filled, as it is, by family calling me to dinner, asking me to shut off the radio. posted by anna kiss @ 2/11/2007 01:35:00 AM |
2.11.2007 |
hormonal imbalance my moods sway with the breeze vary slightly, strongly, suddenly and are never silent i wear my thoughts out loud curse and abuse, applaud and, at exceptional moments, gush. i laugh loudly, weep openly, purse my lips around clenched jaws with great obviousness and intention those who piss me off know it. i am never one for silence. i am small and have likely made up for it my whole life – trumpeting my voice like a lion’s roar for no reason and with little to say. posted by anna kiss @ 2/10/2007 12:45:00 PM |
2.10.2007 |
thirst hot air burns fossil fuels, blows across the bed from out the vintage ironwork vent right at head level, sucks the wet from my open mouth, turns the corners of my nose at the edges, curling skin void of moisture into dust. spinning in the blankets sets off flares in the darkness the rubbing of sheets against nightclothes creating static enough to spark starlight against my flesh. the humidifier sits broken in the corner, stunk of rose geranium it may have been the essential oil that clogged its tubing so no humidity escapes, the aromatherapy intended to stave off anxiety, now coating the interior of the tank to a dusty translucence, so my dream wanderings are in an entirely arid universe, no burp of steam to transform the desert of the bedroom. outside the window nearly waterless snowflakes twirl to the frozen ground, the wind chills, leaving the streets bone-dry in their salty glaze. i wait for spring, for summer, and long for the moment to declare that it’s not the heat, but the humidity. posted by anna kiss @ 2/09/2007 12:14:00 AM |
2.09.2007 |
gender variance you are the universe before the interpretations of science, static and still you are unchanging, as if there were no earthly orbit and the stars hung suspended from the black cloak of the sky, invisible roots in the soil i miscalculated your silence assumed your posture was passivity that there was no progression no thought marching you forward in time and in space i thought my heart broke all on its own that the responsibility of our mutual endeavors fell to me that our existence lay upon my shoulders to burden us home the urgency with which i pressed you eclipsed the truth that in fact your holy mythologies carry us in quiet, though so slowly as to be unseen. posted by anna kiss @ 2/08/2007 11:53:00 PM |
2.08.2007 |
mad mommy my fiery breath burns at the eyes of my sons calls out the tears sprung down their cheeks sends them huddling at my ankles stabbing guilt into my soul, yet never managing to puncture the supreme sense of irritation to which i feel so righteously entitled i declare myself an unfit mother, call friends to bitterly announce the fact, then impatiently proclaim that without children i’d be bored and more miserable stuck yet again in some corporate workplace with no one’s face to tape to the walls of my cubicle i prefer, oddly, to emerge as hydra when fresh urine has soaked my carpet or hot soup decorated my walls, with moments of calm in the storm and the pressure of necessity severing the fork-tongued head lashing out only for another to spring in its place when the winds change when the preeminently imperfect me spirals out of control, revealing my own horrifying humanity. unbearable cute and giggles try hard and fail at the permanent amputation of the evil in me. my heart breaks at my flaws, but my brain fosters partial appreciation of the villain, if only to model the grace of apology and acceptance and the importance of knowing one’s limits. posted by anna kiss @ 2/07/2007 11:59:00 PM |
2.07.2007 |
random synchronicity i have seen not my life flash before me, but my death i have crept my toes into the muddy banks of the river styx so many times now it astonishes me the screams have risen in my chest my heart has pounded, leapt to kiss my throat, my blood flowed cold, my brain full of the white noise of terror, my ears sudden vacuums of sound, my nose and mouth tasted the metallic burn of fear, and all for naught – each time, i survive outright and amazingly death brushes my cheek with his bony fingers and lets go leaves me sobbing hysterical on the side of the road, the car crash behind me, my belly full still of adrenaline soaked baby boy, leaves me hyperventilating on my mother’s sofa, arm wrapped, hand numb, the red gash searing upon my wrist, my children rushed upstairs and the whole family staring dumbly i have heard the distant sirens ringing, wailing the heroic call of safety, suffered strapping to boards, the prick of intravenous needles morphine drips, ultrasound and x-ray, nausea and itching, watching and stitching, and the infinite waiting of hospitals, their cold floors and invisible super-bugs, the cruelty of nurses and semi-retarded residents, unhearing doctors, i have cracked jokes at them, cursed at them, complained and whined and pleaded, i have faced the cool aftermath of feeling pathetic and depressed, anxiety ever after the why me wonderings, the tendons moving slowly and scarring terribly, and the inevitable mathematics of figuring the integration of my changed self back into my life, that disorienting and alarming reentry into reality wherein i remember and remember and remember the moment - realize it was not the stories of my life, not my loved ones, not all the most precious happenings of my tenure on earth that flared like lightening in my brain at the instant of impact, but rather a version of my expiration, the secret glimpse of what it feels like to end, and now knowing, i walk around a marked woman, scarred permanently, irrevocably with the empty wisdom of the touch of nothingness. posted by anna kiss @ 2/06/2007 04:52:00 PM |
2.06.2007 |
grandmother you crawled from out the dirt of mississippi, inbred with perfectly set curls and impoverished but clean and pressed dresses, gap-toothed and matte-skin, ever smiling, had all your war babies, maria in the soft grass and crisp white dressing gown, maria ever the focus of your prayers, maria, the name of the virgin goddess, maria forever frozen, two years old, the water sucked out of her by the dust war planes and war marches, grandfather perpetually overseas, crawling again in mud mud of japan, mud of europe, mud of korea, the blood-splattered flag with bullet holes plastered in his prayers, the mind full of holes, eaten away by the terror of having done what no man should do, coming back, the mind a mess, full of smoke and hatred the anger broke your china and your finger, francis in the bathtub, the others huddled in their nightclothes and every one of them leaving leaving leaving you running away and hating you for staying then another daughter gone, her darling d's left behind to have their bodies drilled with holes there are holes in everyone holes to fill up and always emptying again like a sieve you filled your holes with prayer, saying the rosary and reading your prayerbook all day long in the easy chair as you decayed and his mind's holes leaked faster and faster, growing bigger gaps between knowledge and memory he died not knowing anything anymore, not even the burn of war could singe his sallow skin any longer you coughed and choked, holes sinking into your throat catching your words and skewing them you died on a sunday, a holy day, prayer bringing you to peace by drifting you off to sleep and never waking. they dug a hole to bury you and filled it up up up with mud, sprayed it with holy water and singing prayers, keeping you soft and warm, moist and no longer dry or draining, the holes of your heart, at least, finally laid to rest. posted by anna kiss @ 2/05/2007 11:33:00 AM |
2.05.2007 |
separation the intense painful passion of first love in ultra youth was replaced by a failure to resolve conflict and an equally intense method of argument never wanting to have been a predictable statistic fighting hard for every breath was necessary and chewing at the air came naturally hanging on determinedly fists clenched around ideals and never met expectations dishes piled amidst failures and letdowns while children circled underfoot casualties of infinite rays of hope now squashed by the barrenness of reality-based thinking: food in bellies and shoes on feet how to pay this month’s rent with next month’s money wanting touch to be enough to speak the language of love aching for deniable truths and discussion based on real-life needs, understood and appreciated instead of tilted heads and uneven laughter, callous unhearing with eyes stuck to televisions an inability to care the result of abject fear how do i pay for the sins i’ve committed? how do i place one foot before the other or breathe the air from out my lungs? not see your face in all the mirrors, not sense the fingerprints left all over the entirety of my existence? there are no holes in the scrapbooks this is the truth of our endeavor: though the pathways of our lives move in opposite directions, they remain ever and ever intertwined, we are bound by the youthfulness of our indiscretions we are tied at the helm of our mutual experiment we are the parents of our progeny. posted by anna kiss @ 2/04/2007 11:45:00 PM |
2.04.2007 |
uncertainty poised at cliff’s edge no adventure to be got no comfort to be gained no promise of fortune no suitcase in hand no swell of music no crashing waves no laughter no sweetness and starlight no warm breath no whispered love no catch of breath no burning jealousy or lust or rage the turned look over the shoulder reveals only the green of envy the icy depths are silvery and silent the flutter is not affection, not anticipation, only the nervousness of stomach-churning horror the heart aches with sobs stuck in the throat all is dark and frigid. the unknown ticking clocks, decaying fruit, the passage of time does not lessen, but merely intensifies the wide-eyed wait, filled with fearful blinks muscles tight as rope, clenched against bone, waiting waiting no crescendo no sudden shift no end. posted by anna kiss @ 2/03/2007 11:17:00 PM |
2.03.2007 |
sebastian’s scent munchkin breath, sugar boot, my squish, the smell of you intoxicates me, i sigh, long for you, i breathe you in, your hair rising in my nostrils the plump skin of your cheek moves forth and back, ears rising and falling sucking, it does not react to my inhale your brown eyes stare off as your fingers twiddle and legs kick lazily. you are home as i cannot remember feeling, my embrace your sacred feeding, weeping, sleeping ground, soon enough you will outgrow me, yet i will forever remain open to you, i will hold you in my lap and breathe you in when you are twice my size and the weight of you crushes me when you are a man and have given your heart to someone else still i will cherish the pheromones seeping from your scalp, and hope to recognize the bit of you that came from me. posted by anna kiss @ 2/02/2007 12:19:00 PM |
2.02.2007 |
switching sides baby boy expels the other breast from striped knit v-neck with tiny fat fist tugs it by its nipple to agape mouth, tongue reaching fresh milk for continued sleep, for further dreaming he flops, rest-deadened limbs hot and heavy across my chest and belly for three nights straight he pins my left arm so the hand falls to aching numbness on the third day it does not wake remains a stranger to objects it touches like a fellow commuter on the subway, unknown hips pressed intimately, swaying with the train ride, earphones plugged firmly never speaking or looking, my fingers grasp and do not know the whole of the arm twitches, trying to shake off the irritation, tries to wake the radial nerve on the fourth night i move from the right side of the bed where i have slept the last eight years, mostly in rooms where this was furthest from the door, an odd, unintended feng shui of my marital sheets, a silent quivering mousy voice that wants the husband to protect me from intruders, or the voice of my genes that says to last longest, to survive in the home where this baby was born, the family formed, the bed angles me closest, summons my transformation into the mother bear, putting myself between the nighttime killers and my offspring. my numb limb forces me to switch sides, to let the nerve plump again, forcing the fingers to feel the husband protects once more from the unseen beyond the door and my arm straightens to relieve itself baby boy notices not, goes on with his constant back and forth dance, preferring the furthest nipple at all times, regardless of what it gives switching sides is his envy of the other, knowing that it too drops what he desires his sleepiness craves it, craves me drinks me in left and drinks me in right. posted by anna kiss @ 2/01/2007 11:47:00 PM |
2.01.2007 |
