New Years Eve, 2012
when I peruse through the past
and snipe my problems through my hindsight scope
The promises and self-deals are of the best of intentions
Gatherings across the globe to ward off the weight of time.
Last hour
Last minute
Last second
Last year
Wednesday, January 2, 2013
JANUARY 1st
I don’t take care of the spirit –
there is no mantra startling enough
to untangle the deep freeze from my structure.
Desayuno Americano: huevos estrellados
for me and gnarled chatter with the fam
Miss Coney Island is generous with her face
as well, we march on. More bodies
this year snarl in one another’s traffic
before the ultimate surrender. More
likely we are locked in small rooms
have traded place with ‘skinned social angels’
and once again capsize, but slowly. Once
the balloon room was smaller, now it is big
Also, there are less balloons.
And fewer balloons, and more waiting, and
terrible moments with the self. Didn’t these
furniture of the house immolate, in dreams
in ‘the visage of war’, as all my bad choices become.
The drums too loud too bad, the wine too good
too late; only one song to hear in 2013. Better
be a great one.
Better be by Randy.
New Year........
Rebellion
How does an act of rebellion become an act of contrition
Can I explain all things by the time they were created
Absolving all guilt to youthful idealism.
Breathe
Open plains vast lands heat warmth
Slowly territory is encroached upon by a predator
Move off to avoid confrontation
Breathe
Envision a time of peace
Where no one seeks to harm another
Land families children playing
One more long breath..........
Police in the hallways
Ready for the next attack
Is this the only way to feel safe?
How does an act of rebellion become an act of contrition
Can I explain all things by the time they were created
Absolving all guilt to youthful idealism.
Breathe
Open plains vast lands heat warmth
Slowly territory is encroached upon by a predator
Move off to avoid confrontation
Breathe
Envision a time of peace
Where no one seeks to harm another
Land families children playing
One more long breath..........
Police in the hallways
Ready for the next attack
Is this the only way to feel safe?
Ten Things I Need From Target
1. Another date with you to Target. Dates to temples, castles, parks, canals, okay. But the parking lot the shopping cart the household goods, never before you, before today!
2. A mold-resistant basket for my shampoo bottles because as I say I want this you regard me. The smile you have is quiet and new to me.
3. A large box of strong, reliable, catholic-hell-thin condoms.
4. The way you say thank you to a girl with a tiny pink shopping cart as she pauses to let us pass.
5. The calm with which you make decisions.
6. How proud I am to suggest putting the crate inside another to determine its size.
7. To be a mom, a wife, a homeowner, to lay errand upon errand, hour upon hour, as now, kiss upon kiss.
8. Someone to drive me carefully always.
9. For your mother and father to know my name.
10. To go there, even though the longer I stay, the more I feel I need.
2. A mold-resistant basket for my shampoo bottles because as I say I want this you regard me. The smile you have is quiet and new to me.
3. A large box of strong, reliable, catholic-hell-thin condoms.
4. The way you say thank you to a girl with a tiny pink shopping cart as she pauses to let us pass.
5. The calm with which you make decisions.
6. How proud I am to suggest putting the crate inside another to determine its size.
7. To be a mom, a wife, a homeowner, to lay errand upon errand, hour upon hour, as now, kiss upon kiss.
8. Someone to drive me carefully always.
9. For your mother and father to know my name.
10. To go there, even though the longer I stay, the more I feel I need.
Tuesday, January 1, 2013
SHINE BRIGHT LIKE A DIAMOND
The tinsel twinkles
on Jackson Avenue
holiday caution tape
protecting virgin cars
I am little girl robot
driving
I am broken xanax
in an REI backpack
The tinsel twinkles
on Jackson Avenue
one man walks, white leather,
through the night
new year
so quickly this all became.
the moon lolling swollen
swaddled in cheese cloth;
fat christmas cookies rolled
into the new year are suspended,
distracted in fingers,
over wide-mouthed milks.
one, two, four percents to a whole--
gift me enough couches, god,
and i will true myself like a wheel.
lay and fat laugh and true.
the moon lolling swollen
swaddled in cheese cloth;
fat christmas cookies rolled
into the new year are suspended,
distracted in fingers,
over wide-mouthed milks.
one, two, four percents to a whole--
gift me enough couches, god,
and i will true myself like a wheel.
lay and fat laugh and true.
Carrying an Old Place
How do you get mad in a new way?
In the wooden room last week, much like any library
I finally felt the weight.
When I go to the Yiddish archive,
I am the only person in line at the metal detector.
no one talks to the Concierge and
two women people greet me at the security desk
take my ID and hand me a name tag with my picture on it
walk me to the next room to check my coat.
I ride to the third floor
the librarian gives me a key for the locker, for my bag.
and I fill out a form with the call numbers
and take it to the other room
and wait an hour and
recieve my book.
For the self protection here, all these texts must be holy- and aren't they?
today, the hebrew orphanages of post-war new york.
last week,The leather tanners association, photos of socialist youth.
what use is echoing that everyone should know these things?
that somehow we should learn to carry history and not just its strange shadows.
the coat rack is almost empty
and the front hallway is empty
and the staircase is empty
and in the library, just a few.
What bias makes me not surprised?
I know these places must be full, sometimes,
and I know the danger is real
but,
I ache, here, in the security cocoon.
This place is the state of the world. I can't blame-
but history and knowledge and holiness
I thought, were to share.
Emilou I
sleek god of tidbits skivvered from towel
shook off fur each vinegarbath droplet
dainty foot lifting hoofily, dainty snout inclining toward the Templeton of trash
a wish, an otter, a deity of desire...
shook off fur each vinegarbath droplet
dainty foot lifting hoofily, dainty snout inclining toward the Templeton of trash
a wish, an otter, a deity of desire...
on shoelaces, or O, J-, where art thou?
our brains feel nauseated
and the air is bleak and woozy.
another dead cowboy of advertising
falls in the veil of cashmere
trailed by a funeral parade of seven cop cars
lights flashing brighter than the fireworks
of a new year begun on the heaving breast of a sharp shooter.
they took my gloves, my hat, my scarves
but left my space age party alone
and the air is bleak and woozy.
another dead cowboy of advertising
falls in the veil of cashmere
trailed by a funeral parade of seven cop cars
lights flashing brighter than the fireworks
of a new year begun on the heaving breast of a sharp shooter.
they took my gloves, my hat, my scarves
but left my space age party alone
Anaïs Nin has too many men in her
one for fucking
one for faithfulness
one to admire her
one to analyze her
one to promote her
one to grate her
one to sanctify her
one to fire her
one to devour her
one to plant her
one to embody her
one to quiet her
one to laugh at her
one to read her
one to pedal her
one to drive her around and buy her pastry
Ï have them in me too.
Dreamers
She is a lover of love
A hopeless romantic
A dreamer
She believes in miracles
true love
Fairy tales
Happy endings
And every other good thing we teach our daughters to believe
Skipping over lessons of how to fill this constant need
How to not wear her heart on exposed sleeves
Or how to stay together everytime another lover leaves.
So she searches endlessly
Often acting desperately
For a half to make her whole
C. Joi Sanchez
www.jsanschez.wordpress com
i fell and pretty hard
for an eye doctor who doesn't have time to see me
that's been the story for six months
she wouldn't even give me a checkup
when i asked
and now this
she can't do new year's
she says
because she has a bad flu
starting to get the feeling i'm being strung along
a doctor lying about being sick
that's pretty rich
if you can't trust people in the medical profession
then who
really
i ask you
for an eye doctor who doesn't have time to see me
that's been the story for six months
she wouldn't even give me a checkup
when i asked
and now this
she can't do new year's
she says
because she has a bad flu
starting to get the feeling i'm being strung along
a doctor lying about being sick
that's pretty rich
if you can't trust people in the medical profession
then who
really
i ask you
Later the same day
Earlier the same day I ran into my first serious boyfriend.
You smiled, your top lip
peeking
over your jacket zipped all the way up,
at me as a I squirmed in avoiding him
twice.
We arrived at the big event early this year and
wandered in and out of the crowd chanting USA.
It was cold on the beach and the sand was stiffer than in the summer.
I emerge from the shallow freezing water and see you
shaking out the towel,
getting ready to wrap it around me.
Later the same day the towel is wet
and folded neatly on
the subway seat next to us.
Your head pushes down heavy on my shoulder
and your words are slow.
fuck you Dr. Maslow
Nothing I have done matters
Nothing I do matters
Nothing I will do matters, or will matter
This fight is worth fighting for
As long as I know I will lose.
Otherwise, my feet leave the track of a Fool
The fight for prestige wealth acceptance
To be desired and envied by our fellow Fools
The disguised fight against Death
I will disguisedly lose
Iron Man atop Mount Everest
Enjoy the high
But know that Dr. Maslow is a quack against Death
Prestige is not remembered
Wealth you bequeath to Fools
And what better antithesis to acceptance than Death
Nothing matters yet we toil
Do not toil for Dr. Maslow
Come judgment day he is my God
He lovingly directs us all to Hell
for like the Egyptians
we have built but failed to reach a nonexistence
We all lose
So
Toil
to lose
for what else is there for us to do
magazines in the waiting room of Death
Nothing I do matters
Nothing I will do matters, or will matter
This fight is worth fighting for
As long as I know I will lose.
Otherwise, my feet leave the track of a Fool
The fight for prestige wealth acceptance
To be desired and envied by our fellow Fools
The disguised fight against Death
I will disguisedly lose
Iron Man atop Mount Everest
Enjoy the high
But know that Dr. Maslow is a quack against Death
Prestige is not remembered
Wealth you bequeath to Fools
And what better antithesis to acceptance than Death
Nothing matters yet we toil
Do not toil for Dr. Maslow
Come judgment day he is my God
He lovingly directs us all to Hell
for like the Egyptians
we have built but failed to reach a nonexistence
We all lose
So
Toil
to lose
for what else is there for us to do
magazines in the waiting room of Death
New Year's Present
Traditionally from
under a tree
a week before
two oh one three.
The gifts were stacked
and piled up nice
this year however
Xmas came twice.
Not in the form
one would foresee
or could even dream
what it would be.
You wouldn't wish
on shooting sky stuff
to get this gift but
it's just my luck.
I wish my New Year's
present was a joke
this morning my
f*cking laptop broke.
(Blogged from my iPhone)
under a tree
a week before
two oh one three.
The gifts were stacked
and piled up nice
this year however
Xmas came twice.
Not in the form
one would foresee
or could even dream
what it would be.
You wouldn't wish
on shooting sky stuff
to get this gift but
it's just my luck.
I wish my New Year's
present was a joke
this morning my
f*cking laptop broke.
(Blogged from my iPhone)
Daytime, 2013
Oh my head,
does it hurt.
Feel dead,
inert.
Want a beer
or a bed.
Water clear
instead.
Feel crappy.
Oh dear.
Well, happy
New Year.
does it hurt.
Feel dead,
inert.
Want a beer
or a bed.
Water clear
instead.
Feel crappy.
Oh dear.
Well, happy
New Year.
Sex Dream?
how we started on the topic
I do not know
many questions he wanted to ask
calmly
how do i do it?
i don't want her to think
"why is he doing it like white people"
he told me
and how could i tell him without revealing too much about myself
that not all white people
are horrible in bed
I do not know
many questions he wanted to ask
calmly
how do i do it?
i don't want her to think
"why is he doing it like white people"
he told me
and how could i tell him without revealing too much about myself
that not all white people
are horrible in bed
comedy
I rode a fat old lion for fun,
for the balm of his lope.
Lions are invisibly bright,
like carrots growing orange under the ground.
Their tops allure you.
I think I'm prey,
'cause I freeze and my eyes bug out
for you, baby.
Arch Rival
An Arch Rival
As the confection unfurls into a magic carpet
I resist the desire to unmake the world into frivolous meaning
Which only I can comprehend.
Slowly she faces her fate, her future
Awash in complexity, yet circumspect in her nature
Whistling a happy tune, so no one would suspect.
Twisted the rivals meet in the sandbox filled with sand
Their movements creating Zen patterns for further contemplation
Circling but not making the first move.
The suns create cross shadows which intermingle between them
Their warm glow suffuses the scene with a sense of calm
Before the weapons appear, then the mood is shaken.
I was here first, the anguished cry
Mine Mine Mine,
The retort strikes deeply.
Inferior pacing stops short of intervetion
Boys will be boys they all say
Just then the meteor crashes just outside the playground.
The magic carpet is all that is left of this scene
People scatter to the safety of memory and remorse
Sheltered amongst the ashes of commonplace fantasy.
Why do we fight these battles over and over
Left to the memories of previous victories
Hardened to the fight yet to come?
As the confection unfurls into a magic carpet
I resist the desire to unmake the world into frivolous meaning
Which only I can comprehend.
Slowly she faces her fate, her future
Awash in complexity, yet circumspect in her nature
Whistling a happy tune, so no one would suspect.
Twisted the rivals meet in the sandbox filled with sand
Their movements creating Zen patterns for further contemplation
Circling but not making the first move.
The suns create cross shadows which intermingle between them
Their warm glow suffuses the scene with a sense of calm
Before the weapons appear, then the mood is shaken.
I was here first, the anguished cry
Mine Mine Mine,
The retort strikes deeply.
Inferior pacing stops short of intervetion
Boys will be boys they all say
Just then the meteor crashes just outside the playground.
The magic carpet is all that is left of this scene
People scatter to the safety of memory and remorse
Sheltered amongst the ashes of commonplace fantasy.
Why do we fight these battles over and over
Left to the memories of previous victories
Hardened to the fight yet to come?
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