amazon_syren

Before We Slept

you are bone
weary, exhausted body
aching from the strain of hauling
hundred pound boxes down
three flights of stairs

I press
the heels of my hands
deep under kidneys,
framed by hips, on either side
of spine
you groan

I knead your flesh
Cup scapula and rib stroke
Deep, find and unbind
Long cords of knotted muscle
Dig fingers into skin

You turn so I can work
My fingers along ridge of brow
And cheekbone
Follow the cartilage curve of your ear

Small breasts exposed, you gasp and
Twitch with every press and pull
but my hands stay firm
above your collar
bone cup
your lolling head

massage your scalp
my longing
badly hidden

you moan

my fingers in your hair

Yesterday was eventful. :-)

Thing one: My beads order came in. Sadly, I don't think the green garnet is going to do it for the necklace I want to make Sara. I was expecting it to be much darker than it is. Blast. So I'll have to get Malachite after all. :-P
However, since I didn't get enough Sodalite, this isn't entirely a problem.

I went for a (very) long walk with my sister -- down to fifth avenue and back along the canal -- and her dog. Oh, Fletch... He's a very big puppy who likes to run and has separation anxiety to the point where he ate half of my sister's couch when she was at work the other day.

Yeeg. :-\

But he seems to be adjusting. Hopefully this will work out. :-)


Aft the walk, I went forth and read at the Umi Cafe.

It went well. :-)

They have an unfortunate tendency to start at, like, twenty-to-nine on an open mic that "officially" (meaning the sign-up sheet comes out) starts at 7pm. It's a bit ridiculous, really.
But it did give me the chance to write a third poem. :-)

*~*~*~*~*

Her Bright Spirit

I can see the fire in you
it burns under your skin
turning you golden,
hot enough to make me froth
and boil

I want to fan that flame
make you hiss, spark and dance
amber-bodied
amid the vapours
of my steaming sweat and breath
water-body boiling
under your touch

*~*~*~*~*


I was quite delighted to see Tsivia and Raynedaze came out. :-) That was a lovely surprise. :-)

I will see them again tomorrow. :-) Woohoo! :-D


Anyway, I had to leave by 9:15/9:20, so I didn't actually stay more than about five minutes after my reading. (And, as such, missed out on a bunch of very nice music, I suspect). From Umi, I walked over to Miz Sara's house, spent the evening chatting with her while she worked on her website and such-like. :-)

It was a very pleasant, casual evening, followed by a very pleasant morning - which included both broccoli-tomato vegan quiche (made with a soy-based sourcream instead of eggs and cheese) and another long walk down into the Glebe (around Clemow and Powel and there) and back to my place.

Sadly (well, -ish) she had a yoga workshop (focusing on upper body strength -- as if she didn't have buckets of that already...) at 2pm, so she had to scoot home after that and pick up the yoga-mat for the class.

Still. That was about three hours ago.

In the interveining time, I've had a pink bath (featuring a haagenbath bath bomb -- which smells like toothpaste, alas... But hey, I know it for next time), strung one necklace, and re-strung another.

Now to re-string the rhodochrosite (sp) -- which is like malachite, but pink -- and then I have my collection of pride necklaces complete. Rhodochrosite & cheroite (like malachite, but purple) -- both of which were my grandmother's, and a sodalite/lapis!lazuli combination (lots of blues) as the new third party. :-)

Whee! :-D

I think I'll make chocolate-mint poundcake next :-D (Yummay!), and then maybe re-string my moonstone and pearl necklace. :-) (It's on dental floss, and I'm a little bit worried about that. ;-)


So it's been a productive-esque day. :-)


- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)

So I've been reading this book, Anthro-Porn-Ol-Ogy, which is somewhere between an interesting look into THE-P-WORD in mainstream US culture and, uh, cosmo. Or Sex and the City. Or those chirpy guide-to-getting/being-married books I used to buy (actually *buy*) because I got such a kick out of them.

I have come to the conclusion that (A) the author is a bit of a twit - though it occurs to me that the author may be turning herself into a Character for the purposes of the story, and (B) that I associate my het side with being a useless push-over who doesn't stand up for herself and doesn't live her feminism where it counts.

This last bit is quite a little problem, I think.

I mean, it's like associating my creative/emotive/writer/singer side with being intelligent, well-read and interesting, and my efficient/good-at-saving-money side with being paranoid, dismissive and boring. Two sides. Same person.
Which, DUH, means that my dyke side is just as much of a stupid push-over when it comes to relationships, and I'm just as likely to land myself with a manipulative, needy, controlling woman as I am to land myself with that kind of a man.
For fuck's sake.
(On the plus side, chances are reasonably good that, if I'm ranting about The Patriarchy, a woman SO isn't going to feel like I'm attacking her, personally. That said, it's not like there wouldn't billions of other potential sore-spots just lurking under the surface, but at least *that* one wouldn't be on the plate).


*~*~*~*~*

I've sent you two letters
One a hymn
of thanks
One a promise
to read June Jordan
to keep on writing
to be brave
for you
(for me)

*~*~*~*~*

Longing, I want
your hands
on my body
your mouth
thrown open
moaning
Longing, I want to know
what to do to make you
shivergasp, tremble,
want me.

*~*~*~*~*

On the couch,
You at one end,
Curled casually around a cup of tea,
Me at the other,
Nervous,
Breathless,
Trying (too hard) to be the cool
socially aware
political activist
woman I think you want
trying (too hard)
to hide my desire
making inane conversation
and mistakes
to cover the fact that I want
your body
curled around mine
your mouth
soft-lipped and hungry
your breath
hitching
your touch
your kiss
your need

*~*~*~*~*


I can picture you - all too easily - singing the fishheads song with alternate lyrics, singing it in a sudden burst of carry-a-tune-able song, with your nearest and dearest, as you cut leaflets, or marker rally signs, sitting cross-legged on the ancient, slightly warped hardwood of your house/appartmentliving room floor.You are smiling to yourself, sharing that smile with those friends/lovers/sweethearts/comrades-in-activist-arms, at the silliness of singing about marxists and how good they taste. I have fallen for you, hard, already.

I have written letters in support of co-op brothels, abolishing unfair laws, and honouring treaties, because the mere thought of your (imagined) teacherly approval, the thought that (maybe) you would like me more, want my company more, maybe even want ME (if you knew me at all), if I were a better person - has given me reason enough to get off my own scrawny ass and make an effort, small and determined, for other people I don't know.

*~*~*~*~*

Self-improvement through crushes.

It's the wave of the future, I tell you.

I remember when I tried vegetarianism for a year or two. I never fully went veggie -- too many family dinners, for a start -- but I cooked only vegetarian food, tried to go all the way to vegan a couple of times a month, just to see if I could go A Whole Day without ingesting eggs/dairy/honey. (It generally didn't work - I'm far too fond of yoghurt/milk/kefir/icecream/cheese/cream/etc ... and baked goods that incorporate them... to give up animal products entirely).

Part of my reason was because a friend of mine eventually responded to my statement "I'm thinking of going vegetarian" with a disbelieving "Still???" -- when that happens, you know it's time to stop considering and actually DO IT -- But the main reason (the reason I started considering it in the first place) was because I had a crush on a vegan.

<*insert eyeroll here*>

So I learned how to bake without eggs, and found out that I can make one heck of a nice stew using romano beans plus the celebrated What Have I Got In the Fridge approache. :-)

Self-Improvement. Through Crushes.

I find that this crush (on that kick-ass poet from toronto) is resulting in the same sorts of things.
Which is good.
As far as I'm concerned. :-)

*~*~*~*~*

( More Thoughts on the Dream House )

*~*~*~*~*

Anyway. General madness, as all things go.

Two sets of people are looking at my house today. One has been and gone already, the other is coming at 6:30.

I'm going to run errants (and/or surf the internet) until I can go home.


Things I've done today:

- Washed my kitchen floor

- Writen to INAC regarding the honouring of the Barrier Lake Hydro agreements

- Writen to That Guy at Public Works asking if he's got any research positions he needs to fill (he's out of the office until the 21st of July, so it'll be a while before/if I hear back from him, but I figured I'd ask).

- Eaten home made cookies (Mmmm... White!chocolatechip-amaretto-peanutbutter and mocha-chocolatechip... Very tastey...)


( Cookie Recipes )

*~*~*~*~*

Anyway, I think that's it for me. :-)


- TTFN,
- Amazon.

P.S.: Check this out.

Further to yesterday's link: The Brothel Around the Corner.

And (sort of) regarding legalization vs decriminalization.

More on Canada. Here's hoping.

- TTFN,
- Amazon.


[1] Bitter much?

This came today.
Finally.

My reactions (for what they're worth) are below.


*~*~*~*~*


I want you to come today,
words murmured while
fishing
for my keys,
as if the pages
could be the person,
as if
I could have any say in that,
anyway.


*~*~*~*~*


I wrote a story
once
about a public school librarian
who gets off
fondling
the Encyclopedia Britanica.
(She had fantasies about
reading dirty stories
to the English teacher
down the hall who - clearly - must have shared her
love of literature)


Today is a bit like that.


The envelope is waiting
for me
Slim and padded, inside
the book is still shrink-wrapped,
Your name on the cover.
I brush it against my cheek,
foolishly wanting
to catch the scent (unknown) of you.
As if it might linger,
ten years on,
in pages
you
never touched.


*~*~*~*~*


Her words
ache
like an old bone
healed over but
never quite set.


*~*~*~*~*


My heart slams against my ribs
Not pounding,
Only too big, suddenly, to be contained

talk to me again

I'm aching for your voice
(long distance, and only imagined,
a letter or a spoken word)

But all I have is this:
One, slim volume, of not quite
sixty poems.
The only words I have.

"Vow" made my heart swell.

"Pairs" made me cry.


*~*~*~*~*


"The grass is always greener,"
you said,
taking a drag.
The corner of your mouth cocks,
ruefully.

Am I crazy for wanting you here?

You who I never knew,
Yet feel (a little) like I know.

Familiar longing - but I'm making you up,
Bi-girl, femme-girl, writer-girl,
Girl.
Match-stick arms and combat boots,
A short dress and a sharp eye.

And me?

I am suddenly fifteen again, squealing over your
Cute Tomboy Dyke Version of Sexy
as if you were all five of the backstreet boys,
rolled into one.

I am an amourous zombie, hungry for
braaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaains,
And falling for everything else in the process.

I am all too familiar with this hunger in my heart,
the need to know more, learn more, see more, hear more,
more, more, more, more!
the need to devour you.
Whole.


*~*~*~*~*


I want you
In the fair-trade coffee shop,
sitting across from me,
thinking out loud.

I want you
also
in my living room,
sitting in my lap,
legs spread,
inarticulate,
but still
out loud.


*~*~*~*~*


Not quite sixty poems,
Not quite sixty tiny slivers of your heart,
here in my hands.

(Thank you
For the sharing)

I read them,
hungrily,
Gulping, slurping,
swallowing,
Can't get enough of what you have to say.
Press my nose to the crease,
Breathe the scent of paper,
Only paper
And still
I murmur to you
as if you could hear me,
As if I had any right
to act as if you know me
or want to hear what I think.


*~*~*~*~*


I want to sleep
with this book
against my skin.


*~*~*~*~*


So there you go.
Crushed out on an acadyke left-wing poet/activist/slut who I've never met, and yet who has walked so many of the streets that I know. Both literal and figurative. :-)

They came! :-D

I've got "Peace" on the cd-player right now, and will probably throw "We Too Are One" on shortly. :-) "Consensual Genocide" (Leah Samharasinha) is, so far (five or six pages in) proving to be excellent. :-)

I have come up with this:


Sierra Leone

My heart is a mine field,
smooth as any road that gets you
from here to there.

My heart is mine field,
Scabbed over,
waiting.

Years from now, maybe, there'll be flowers blowing,
Red,
In the churned-up earth,

But for now
You gotta watch your step.
Anywhere you put your foot will
trigger
an explosion.

My heart is a mine field,
And you are Fred Astaire.

I didn't know I was marrying a dancer.

You didn't know you were marrying
Sierra Leone.



Hopefully "Longing, At Least, Is Constant" will come in a few days or less. :-D


Poetry reading tomorrow night @ Cube Gallery in Hintonburg (on Armstrong st., one block west of Parkdale, I think). 7:30pm. :-)


Have been reading No Way to Live, which is about women and poverty (generally cyclical and abject), specifically in BC, but in Canada in general. :-) It is heartbreaking and enraging at the same time. It's got me thinking about stuff (which is always good).


Also: In my marvelously kismetic meet-up with Commodorified, Raynedaze and Torrain (and Seanchaidh, but that bit was intentional), the subject of how "bad/dangerous neighbourhood" often translates into "noticeably non-white population + working class/lower-income-bracket + women working the sex-trade after dark".
Commodorified mentioned the ( John Retraining Program )


Gotta go make dinner. :-)


- TTFN,
- Amazon. :-)