Trace my skin:
White and black and brown—
Indescribable, I am all the colors in between.
Look in my eyes:
Slanted, big and small—
They’re all the shapes of round.
Feel my hair:
It’s curly, kinky, nappy
Sleek and straight and soft.
Kiss my lips:
Full and wide, small and thin.
Run your hands—
Down the sides of my pear-shaped,
Hourglass, will-o’-the-wisp hips.
I am tall and short, old and young
Beautiful in my own way.
Wrap me in your arms
Embrace the history
Of the seven continents of me.
Don’t ask—
Don’t let the details matter.
For now, just let it be me and you.
Sunday, January 31, 2010
Monday, December 28, 2009
I have written a picture of me
In ballpoint black and blue
I have typed it in Calibri
And shown the world and you
These are things I will not say
Things I know are true
That I will deny every day
Thou shall not lie, I think
But I am not strong enough to do
I will make confessions in ink
On pages white and new
Reflections clearer than glass
Forgiveness, God, I ask of you
Please hear my silent mass
The shame isn’t mine alone
Or the nakedness I might bare
A better, could silence hone
My weakness makes me share
Though strength lets me hide
I beg, appease the guilt I fear
In no one else can I confide
Excuses are not cared for
But I’m broken as you know
Healed by your blood and more
Not whole, I still must grow
I’m a ways from perfect ten
A writer, waiting for the Word to show
In Jesus’ name, Amen
In ballpoint black and blue
I have typed it in Calibri
And shown the world and you
These are things I will not say
Things I know are true
That I will deny every day
Thou shall not lie, I think
But I am not strong enough to do
I will make confessions in ink
On pages white and new
Reflections clearer than glass
Forgiveness, God, I ask of you
Please hear my silent mass
The shame isn’t mine alone
Or the nakedness I might bare
A better, could silence hone
My weakness makes me share
Though strength lets me hide
I beg, appease the guilt I fear
In no one else can I confide
Excuses are not cared for
But I’m broken as you know
Healed by your blood and more
Not whole, I still must grow
I’m a ways from perfect ten
A writer, waiting for the Word to show
In Jesus’ name, Amen
Role Reversal
I don’t want to hear your secret thoughts,
And I do.
Every piece of you,
Will cost a piece of me.
I have enough to spare,
But then no more.
Just seeing you,
Is taking more than that.
You must understand,
We never can go back.
It should be my decision,
I have more to lose.
You can’t see it,
But I’ve given you the choice.
You don’t know it,
Or you never would have asked.
It’s better,
If I know you didn’t know.
I can still love you,
If I can feel it this way.
Silly, I will always love you,
Even if you knew.
You have always loved me,
When I was you.
And I do.
Every piece of you,
Will cost a piece of me.
I have enough to spare,
But then no more.
Just seeing you,
Is taking more than that.
You must understand,
We never can go back.
It should be my decision,
I have more to lose.
You can’t see it,
But I’ve given you the choice.
You don’t know it,
Or you never would have asked.
It’s better,
If I know you didn’t know.
I can still love you,
If I can feel it this way.
Silly, I will always love you,
Even if you knew.
You have always loved me,
When I was you.
Tops
spin
spinning
spun
the top keeps its rotation
not of its own volition
poor top,
somebody set it in motion
and has yet to say stop
gravity will intervene
the top will careen
up or down
into the nearest object
scraping it brightly painted sides.
that somebody,
who began its circulation,
will put it away,
a chipped and damaged toy
better left on the shelf--
collected
than on the ground rejected
spin
spinning
spun
spinning
spun
the top keeps its rotation
not of its own volition
poor top,
somebody set it in motion
and has yet to say stop
gravity will intervene
the top will careen
up or down
into the nearest object
scraping it brightly painted sides.
that somebody,
who began its circulation,
will put it away,
a chipped and damaged toy
better left on the shelf--
collected
than on the ground rejected
spin
spinning
spun
The Conclusion
They were talking, not understanding
Going through motions long rehearsed
The words had lost their meaning
But not their function
Love is a thousand actions
But a thousand actions are not love
She said she was just tired
And he said they had seen better days
But all the days led to this one
And this one came a hundred times
Duty-bound--
The last three decades had been slow
Slow enough for her to see
Slow enough for him to know
He was not the man she chose
And she was not the woman—
Who chose him
Details, easy to ignore
Between driving children to school
And picking them up after sports
Gone now and only the sound,
The necessity of conversation left
Her kisses cold with irrelevance
His-- hot with remembrance
Together lukewarm--
From bliss born of ignorance
Sunday, October 4, 2009
I Am Mixed
Multicultural, biracial, mixed, mestiza
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—
I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.
I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.
I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.
Ethnicity, ethnocentric, anomaly
Race, culture, identity
Your blood mixed with mine
The historiography of my parents' sexuality
The power play between two shades of brown
Descriptions, constructions, definitions—
I am not a conglomeration of labels
Races put on like cloaks
Stripped down into stereotypes
Condensed for people who are not me.
Not just two halves of what you can’t see
You want to know me?
Then ask.
I am the only one with eyes that see this view
You don’t know what my hands can do
Your heart has never loved who I loved
Your brain never thought the thoughts I think
Your feet don’t plod the path I trod.
I am multidimensional, multi-intentional, multi-generational
So much more than multiracial
Yes, my blood is multinational
It may be rich but it’s still red
So much more than a statistic
Of colored people who shared a bed.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Eyes on the Sparrow-Savanna Nolan
Another new poem by Guest Poet Savanna Nolan
Cary Grant once said something like
“I faked it until it was true.”
And so, feeling like a small, french-fry-driven sparrow
I tried to enter the room with the swagger of a dragon, an impenetrable hide.
One small stumble—a spill, a botched job, wrong name—
Is all it takes to spoil the masquerade
And in the blaze of a blush the dragon is gone
And only the small sparrow remains,
Drenched by rain and mistakes,
Frantically searching for french fries.
Cary Grant once said something like
“I faked it until it was true.”
And so, feeling like a small, french-fry-driven sparrow
I tried to enter the room with the swagger of a dragon, an impenetrable hide.
One small stumble—a spill, a botched job, wrong name—
Is all it takes to spoil the masquerade
And in the blaze of a blush the dragon is gone
And only the small sparrow remains,
Drenched by rain and mistakes,
Frantically searching for french fries.
Tracheotomy-Savanna Nolan
New poem by Guest Poet Savanna Nolan
Sir, I am more than just my chart.
I am a person, not a med student’s treat,
and though I don’t speak and my flesh is char-
ed, I am more than a puzzle of meat
that you talk to in search of a trace
of life. You don’t talk about yourself, but I cheat
and know enough of life to see through your chat.
I see the ring you wear—your favorite charm—
from the sweetheart asleep in a bed you long to race
home to. Finish with me and she’s just a tram
ride away—the cure to your heart’s ache.
Sir, I am more than just my chart.
I am a person, not a med student’s treat,
and though I don’t speak and my flesh is char-
ed, I am more than a puzzle of meat
that you talk to in search of a trace
of life. You don’t talk about yourself, but I cheat
and know enough of life to see through your chat.
I see the ring you wear—your favorite charm—
from the sweetheart asleep in a bed you long to race
home to. Finish with me and she’s just a tram
ride away—the cure to your heart’s ache.
Sunday, August 16, 2009
To John, Over the Years
Hello,
Frances remembers when you left
the tears dropped in her oatmeal.
Frances wanted to follow the tracks you made
she was angry when i wouldn't let her.
Frances slept with your shirt tonight
she thought that she could smell you.
You should call Frances
she needs to hear your voice.
Frances took down all your pictures
she put them in a box.
Frances didn't want to go to school today
she hoped that you would take her.
Frances tried to call you
the number didn't work.
Yesterday, Frances was in a play
I saw her check the crowd for you.
Frances got her ears pierced
she didn't mention you.
it was Frances' birthday
she kept checking the mail.
Frances kissed a boy today
i don't think she wanted you to know.
Frances fell in love
she wanted to ask you a question.
the boy Frances was with left
she said he was just like you.
Frances graduated today
i thought you'd like this picture.
Frances moved into her dorm
you were nowhere on her mind.
Frances has been thinking a lot
she wondered where you were.
Frances bought a car
she asked some guy to help her.
Frances got her masters
she went somewhere for a job.
Frances moved back in
she wanted to be close.
Frances saw me writing this
she said that i should stop.
Frances met a boy
she said he's not like you.
Frances got a ring tonight
she's planning her new life.
Frances didn't want to go down the aisle
she thought that you would call.
Frances' husband bought a house
they want to start a family.
Frances said you're not invited...
i guess that's all,
um, you can write if you want.
Frances remembers when you left
the tears dropped in her oatmeal.
Frances wanted to follow the tracks you made
she was angry when i wouldn't let her.
Frances slept with your shirt tonight
she thought that she could smell you.
You should call Frances
she needs to hear your voice.
Frances took down all your pictures
she put them in a box.
Frances didn't want to go to school today
she hoped that you would take her.
Frances tried to call you
the number didn't work.
Yesterday, Frances was in a play
I saw her check the crowd for you.
Frances got her ears pierced
she didn't mention you.
it was Frances' birthday
she kept checking the mail.
Frances kissed a boy today
i don't think she wanted you to know.
Frances fell in love
she wanted to ask you a question.
the boy Frances was with left
she said he was just like you.
Frances graduated today
i thought you'd like this picture.
Frances moved into her dorm
you were nowhere on her mind.
Frances has been thinking a lot
she wondered where you were.
Frances bought a car
she asked some guy to help her.
Frances got her masters
she went somewhere for a job.
Frances moved back in
she wanted to be close.
Frances saw me writing this
she said that i should stop.
Frances met a boy
she said he's not like you.
Frances got a ring tonight
she's planning her new life.
Frances didn't want to go down the aisle
she thought that you would call.
Frances' husband bought a house
they want to start a family.
Frances said you're not invited...
i guess that's all,
um, you can write if you want.
Monday, August 10, 2009
Series Review: Harry Potter and the Author Who Didn’t Know When to Stop
You're going to hate me now...
click on images for sources
For more than 10 years the world has been suffering from Harry Potter mania. In 1997, J.K. Rowling released the first Potter book. Today, with books, movies, video games and other merchandise, the Harry Potter brand is now worth $15 million (exchange4media). Rowling’s seven books have been translated into 64 languages and sold over 375 million copies (Glovin). She is now the highest earning novelist in history, a history that has included the likes of Charles Dickens, Oscar Wilde and C.S. Lewis and for that I have to respect her. But 4,126 long pages after I opened the first installment of Harry Potter to when I closed the last book, I still have no idea why the series has became a worldwide phenomena. It’s just not that good.
Yet, even with all of these shortcomings the entire plotline of all seven books isn’t bad at all. It’s entertaining and simplistic, you can enjoy it without having to put very much thought into it, it’s literary fast food. The problem with fast food is that too much makes you sick and Rowling doesn’t seem to understand this. Several hundred of her 4,126 pages are not only pointless but also boring. She could have told the same story much more effectively in half that number pages.
Rowling not only violates the less-is-more guideline of writing by also the show-don’t-tell rule. After the release of the final Potter book, Rowling made an announcement that came as a surprise to many fans- Harry’s mentor and one of the main characters, Dumbledore was gay and had a love affair (Siegel). Once a book is published a writer shouldn’t be able to announce parts that she neglected to actually write in the books. A series like Harry Potter needs to be a complete world on its own, just as The Chronicles of Narnia and The Lord of Rings are. If anyone can read more than four thousand pages of a seven book series and not know that one of the main characters is gay and lived a full, but secret, life then the writer of those pages has not done her job.
Oh, and just in case this essay isn’t clear, it was supposed to be about how Harry Potter is actually a great literary work, I just neglected to mention that.
Works Cited
1. Exchange4media.com. International: Harry Potter, the $15 Billion Man. 5-26-08.
http://www.exchange4media.com/kids/KidsFullStory.asp?news_id=26820&tag=21718. 7-16-07
2. Glovin, David. Rowling Warns of Potter Plagiarism in Trial Testimony (Update4). 5-26-08. http://www.bloomberg.com/apps/news?pid=20601102&sid=aR2uXKyRcjAQ. 4-14-08.
3. Bristow, Jennie. Harry Potter and the Meaning of Life. 5-26-08. http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/00000006DE0C.htm. 6-19-03
4. Siegel, Hanna. Rowling Lets Dumbledore Out of the Closet. 5-26-08. http://abcnews.go.com/Entertainment/story?id=3755544. 10-20-07
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