anna kiss
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anna kiss
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sweating bullets anxiety comes in waves the twitched and upturned palm the frenzied rush through rooms heartbeat all a'quiver darting eyes and too lax limbs the cornea cascading over everything flooding the brain a disaster for anything but unease there lurks no quietude or unsensed calm just frozen flames licking neural pathways clogged with thought and all becomes but a head turned over shoulders, searching for an answer not knowing the question. posted by anna kiss @ 2/23/2008 01:28:00 AM |
2.23.2008  |
the violence of history i measure my life by my traumas, by the lines wrought on my face by sudden tragedy unfathomable and everlasting it is the story that tells me and in many ways forgets the telling of in-between stuff the filling of contentment accounting for happiness the dramatic bliss of everyday is not enough to stir me it is always the struggle and the intermittent negotiations of imminent survival. posted by anna kiss @ 2/22/2008 01:27:00 AM |
2.22.2008 |
don't despair, organize my notebooks lay splayed on the table, baring lists of words in no particular order, and dates numbered and forgotten. as much as i long to check things off and write out every endeavor, i have not set down so much as a syllable in days. i have been having to forgive myself my slow return to normalcy from a suspended state wherein it was necessary, for a time, to not do. now the blank eyes of my daily planner stare at me longing for the stroke of my hand lifting the page, for the saturation of ink that spells the future like a destiny rather than a dream. posted by anna kiss @ 2/21/2008 01:26:00 AM |
2.21.2008 |
dammed mind i am so very far behind i have not yet found that sweet spot from which words flow like so much water. i cannot seem to settle down into the parts of my brain that clear and focus, block out all sounds, and form thoughts in brief, alliterate words, succinct and properly patterned. i cannot seem to write. and every day that i do not do, i wish to even less. posted by anna kiss @ 2/20/2008 01:26:00 AM |
2.20.2008 |
the agony of weather the snow melts weeping rivers whose serpentine gutterflow is determined by gum wrappers and piles of exhaust-soaked slush. the sun sets, dropped degrees, the waste water of so many tears freezing over. the sky clouds, dropping new flakes and starts to work rebuilding the glacial shapes of each city sidewalk. it is a repetitive process, this winter. over and over again the air warms then freezes we nearly lose jackets then pile them on once more. in february, with all this teasing back-and-forth, the shortest month quickly stacks against us to seem, in fact, the longest. posted by anna kiss @ 2/19/2008 01:25:00 AM |
2.19.2008 |
inadequacy atoned i must flagellate myself i must agonize the show, endure the ending create the wicked bits of me anew and exhibit this the wrought faces, the scrawled lips, crooked cat-slit eyes and askew tombstone teeth. the punishment is for naught - i fail and fail again, do not brace myself for failing and must scrape my melted skin and charred bones off the floor in the morning. posted by anna kiss @ 2/18/2008 01:25:00 AM |
2.18.2008 |
being done the daily endeavor occupies all the brain ticks and itches full with lists for doing provokes the motions of laundering and dusting scrubbing and scratching and i try hard as i might to sense the poetry in all this doing, but the lens self-focused cannot seem to extract the words from me even in slow motion on treads tight as tendrils or sinewy ribbons pulled by inches from out my mouth and eyes my fingers sense no vacancy fit for the literary occupant they flinch and flail the monday through friday transactions and a life full of traffic and conversations full of pretext of unwritten rules and the under-written consequences of this modern life posted by anna kiss @ 2/17/2008 01:24:00 AM |
2.17.2008 |
fourth movement the lines of motion follow hands and arms in intricate geometric patterns which form history the symphonic interplay of the rubbing of bristle against grout, the rush of water, the stroke of sponge on porcelain, the shifting of feet softly upon tile, it is the orchestral accompaniment of this ballet - the hand up and down, side and forth, back and fro, thither and so on, each gentle movement that rustles fabric or tilts the head creates this rising and falling civilization of domesticity. everyday. posted by anna kiss @ 2/16/2008 01:23:00 AM |
2.16.2008 |
month of poetry everything is coming out all hideous - gap-toothed smiles and shrieking laughter my quivering throat in the face of expectation draws vacant breaths. and listless limbs the subtle flinch the chin points down leading the face over the shoulder such embarrassment. this exercise does not achieve the desired outcome the fear, the self-obsession, the inner though pulled out, brought forth into blinding birthing light - the sub-consciousness exorcised and slain for show. posted by anna kiss @ 2/15/2008 01:23:00 AM |
2.15.2008 |
the pregnant pause every dream grows red with meaty blood, full up in miscarried globules and heart-shaped placenta the belly ballooned steadily by degrees up and up fingers feel into flesh the firm, rounded edge which writes the shapes of knees and backs and rounded crown the babe blossoms in my brain, slowly unfurled from tadpole to floppy limbs and too-flexible joints. so it is a strange revelation - this empty womb, its depths feel too hollow and too small it is vacant and lacking in space for any sort of fullness. nothing here. and yet i rub the skin below the navel, searching out the origin, finding no one home but me. posted by anna kiss @ 2/14/2008 01:20:00 AM |
2.14.2008 |
a few weeks ago, i caught the baby of a doula client in the car on the way to the hospital. it was one of the most amazing experiences of my life. since then, i have read jennifer block's pushed, and have spent far too much time thinking about babies. i don't know what it is i want. part of me wants to catch babies, part of me wants to advocate for women, change the world, and another part of me wants to have babies. i look at pictures of people who are pregnant, hear their stories, sense the hope that gets poured into reproducing - and want so badly to participate in it. at the same time, i'm gritting my teeth at the yeast devouring my breasts and at the way my son nurses. i can't keep my cool or my house or make dinner. i go out too much. i've been smoking again. there are so many things wrong with me and nothing is focusing me. i have not enough time in the day to accomplish everything and at the moment, not even the inclination. i feel, at times, so bad at this. i am starting my own business and that is slow-going and all the things i need to do for it are more than i want at any given moment to actually do. i commit myself to things that i'm not certain i want to enact. i may go to key west for a few days in march, but i'm terrified of what leaving my kids for that long will mean or how it will go. i'm trying to participate in so much. maybe it's too much. maybe i don't really want any of the things i seek to involve myself in. maybe it's a delusion i've crafted - that i can do all of these things and feel somehow like a whole person, tied to nothing and everything in particular. why can i not simply dedicate time to doing one thing and doing it well? why must my interests be so varied and chaotic and so decidedly not simple. my kids watch movies and play video games and eat junk. i sit in front of the computer and sleep until noon. i unleash fury towards bastian at my breast. i have a headache. i do and i do and i do and i know not why. i don't even feel like i am trying anymore. i feel at a complete loss. i have to go do more laundry. i have not gotten dressed today. that is not really unusual. posted by anna kiss @ 2/13/2008 05:27:00 PM |
2.13.2008 |
void the smallish moment halved and pruned to nearly nothing in a space for being so minuscule as to be obsolete, no room for a squeak the head of a pin wedged in this crevice of time cannot fraction even a sliver so to you i exhale all hope from out my crushed interior as it languishes and evaporates into the emptiness between the emptiness where the fullness of love cannot permeate where the starness does not shine where the heavens expire and the dust of dreams can neither surge nor settle it is here, in nothing, where i will await the dance on rims of black holes, looking outward as time shifts the subliminal backwards drawl illuminating for noneyes the history of the universe: columns of nebulaic planetary rubble galaxies of triumphant moons and witness as the sun swallows my precious earth. posted by anna kiss @ 2/13/2008 01:19:00 AM |
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the heart wants and wants and in wanting forgets, forges patterns, grooves, in the daily existence, and follows them again and again. eventually, self-awareness occurs and the question becomes why? why did this happen? what was all this wanting for? the head shakes, the jaw slackened, i do not know. and do not know. posted by anna kiss @ 2/12/2008 01:18:00 AM |
2.12.2008 |
ground zero the couch exploded cross the living room lies mangled, the cushions strewn by soft galloping bodies tumbled from the arms to the seat, tossed about between the back and its pillows then the foam and cotton brick for sitting unzipped slowly by fat two-year-old fingers bursting out the entrails from its cesarean wound the belly bared. they bore a hole in the fabric lining the springs, straight through the muslin covering the base drop bits of dirt, food, matchbox cars within at times including musical instruments and rubber snakes, five incarnations of anakin skywalker shining in plastic with missing bits: hands and helmets, chewbacca's arm. this all pools toward the center, snagging in the fibrous intestines of the sofa, dangling haphazardly amidst the wire frame, its coils suspending vader and the others like webbed flies awaiting eating. posted by anna kiss @ 2/11/2008 01:17:00 AM |
2.11.2008 |
hot geek love hot geek in search of soul mate must love star wars differentiate between hoth and tattoine without question carry 20-sided die understand muggles interested in anarcho-syndicalist philosophy follower of chomsky admirer of winona laduke votes has tried veganism, paganism, nihilism, fabric arts and web design writes poetry but not too much love history and herstory too reads graphic novels makes yummy samosas knows a good ethiopian restaurant and a good wine enjoys astronomy and sagan the pixies and the clash especially the clash celebrates national talk like a pirate day and can make me laugh. i await your email. posted by anna kiss @ 2/10/2008 01:17:00 AM |
2.10.2008 |
doing dishes as matter of reciprocity the math of the moment loses me in calculation the act itself but a figure to be accounted for in the ledger of this life. posted by anna kiss @ 2/09/2008 01:16:00 AM |
2.09.2008 |
yeastie beasties i have no discipline. i consume what i desire asking no questions and giving no answers i care not if my veins are primed with lard, if my lungs blacken if my breasts catch on fire and tiny organisms eat me from the inside out. let the tissue and muscle fall off in huge bloodied chunks, my meaty insides rotted green and weeping flesh oozing pus let my brain fall to pieces my wisdom and ability to reason drained away. let me be lost for logic what is here for disintegration does not amount to much anyway the body is so small and so frail and so designed for this destruction. i am made for mangling. nothing heaves and sighs or wears out it is the twig made for snapping and so it would seem that even the most microscopic of villains is able to exact this execution. posted by anna kiss @ 2/08/2008 01:16:00 AM |
2.08.2008 |
nur ow all night long we roll in opposite directions, his hands grope open, shut, pull in half-sleep he whines, whimpers rests tries again cries out. deep within my dream i hear the tug on my arm, tightly turn away into bedding protecting my pinkened nipples from his torturous sigh eventually we are both pulled far enough from sleep that i bitterly roll over, gasp at touches, grit teeth, growl at him as he rubs his eyes, his frown opened with a wail then part my shirt and pull out the lesser of two burned breasts. posted by anna kiss @ 2/07/2008 01:15:00 AM |
2.07.2008 |
my overtired limbs lay limp at my side the list-making and frantic rush for dominion over dirt have exhausted me. my cheeks hang sallow at the sides of my frown the eyes drip downward the hand slows the movement of words across pages, coming finally at the period, to a rest. posted by anna kiss @ 2/06/2008 01:15:00 AM |
2.06.2008 |
super fantastic huge-ass tuesday I stroke the pots, it is a meditation-
there is space enough I can drift posted by anna kiss @ 2/05/2008 01:14:00 AM |
2.05.2008 |
home is where the horror is there exists a movement the heebeejeebees I wish I could say the heating ducts it is an unsteady existence posted by anna kiss @ 2/04/2008 01:13:00 AM |
2.04.2008 |
"flames, on the side of my face" i am pulled under, pushed into tight boxes, rooms crowded full of darkness, nothing, aching bones and singed tissue bridges collapse beneath crashing fists i move forward and on, healing not i become lost for words can only slam doors. there is no reason to it your academic prowess withers in the face of seething, frothing vitriol there is no debate there is only the notion of shattered glass and great, echoing silences. posted by anna kiss @ 2/03/2008 01:13:00 AM |
2.03.2008 |
the birth the thing to do
is the obvious outcome written on your face it is beyond plans fulfilled and lists checked - it is the purity of having done and being not bound by earth and its foolish gravity. posted by anna kiss @ 2/02/2008 01:11:00 AM |
2.02.2008 |
thrush there is no warbling birdsong from ‘neath the long grasses of these subtly sloped mountaintops unless it is a microscopic hum that bacteria make while chewing inaudible to this ear and the deep painful drinking of the two year old nearing sleep we rise and fall our breaths slowly and unknowing of what munches just below the surface these peaks are ablaze the rivers are burning and slowly spinning single cells are consuming milk and spraying ethyl alcohol on the fire. posted by anna kiss @ 2/01/2008 01:10:00 AM |
2.01.2008 |
