Hockey and Women

Hockey and Women

ahhh we're skating again...

circle one

I am angry.

circle two

little less.

circle three

dissipate.

Everything

leads back to the ice

and when he left

it was the same.

I went back to happiness

so difficult to describe.

That feeling of freedom

skating, rushing, pushing

becoming that ruthless devil

who takes no prisoners.

(including bad feelings)

joy.

nothing but pure joy.

True hockey players

leave all their emotions out on the ice.

Skate out your anger, feel the love.

Nancy the Road Bike

Nancy, you're so fancy

with your delicate, little frame,

flying through the city

on concrete wet with rain.

I crouch down like a tiger

my heart is on my sleeve.

The wind is running through my hair

and I'm pedaling home free.

Poems I Like

I took a semester in Russian Lit one semester and learned everything in Russia is really really depressing.

Still, I found this poem by Marina Tsevateava and really liked it.

I like that you are crazy not with me,

I like that I’m not with you crazy, either,

That ne’er the heavy planet’s globe will be

Drifting away under our feet, quite easy.

I like that one might funny be and brave,

And free-behaved – and not to play words, rather,

And not to blush with choking a wave,

At easy touching just a sleeve another’s.

I thank you with my hand and all my heart

For loving me (that you don’t even know!),

For the sweet peace, I own in the night,

For the scarce meeting in the eve’s fast flow,

For our not-walking under the moonlight,

For our not-standing under the sun’s glow –

That not with me – alas – you lose your mind,

That not with you – alas – I lose my own.

String Theory

There's such a thing as string theory:

The invisible string that keeps the defense moving in sync at hockey games,

The harmonic vibrations of your guitar,

The way my body is thrumming to the natural frequency of yours.

I came here seeking no favors.

I came here to snap the cords of tension.

I've come here so you could reel me in.

So you could pull the strings of your blinds shut

this rainy afternoon,

So we could get tangled and knotted

in that eternal heart string binding first love.

rain does happen in Boulder

and when it does all things come to a

faucet drip pace.

I want to curl up in a ball

listen to rain fall

paint the world in gray, blue silver tones.

chiming clean rain music

in pitter patter time.

Commence Summer!

I have two weeks of nothing

but sweet summer.

And it's 80 outside...

Nothing but skin baring outfits

and surface area for the sun.

Reasons to lick your ice cream slowly

and dip your feet in the icy mountain water

of Boulder Creek.

Drinking, grilling

soft, soft grass and bubble wands.

Ode to Gardening

This was never fun as a kid

it was never my land

...and now that I've moved

to the wild wild West

I've staked a claim at the base of a mountain

pulled on my bonnet,

rolled up my shirtsleeves

and started hoeing .

and not what you think oh gutter-bound mind!

I'm overturning clayey soil

uncovering metamorphic rocks

pulling diligently at vagrant weeds

thrusting, twisting

my three-pronged fork into the ground

whispering sweet nothings

to my homestead.

I am dirty in the most literal sense,

in total need of a hose down.

I'm gonna put my hoe down.

Newton's 3rd Law

Newton’s 3^rd Law

For every action there

Is an equal

and opposite reaction.

And so

We should treat each other

With a little more delicacy.

Pivot

You need a pivot to rotate a lever arm

A solid little point that holds you down

yet puts you in motion.

Swirling little moment circles in my drink,

I think...

first year of grad school,

my very own solid point of rotation,

check.

I moved...

I moved to a new state

oh beautiful Colorado!

I moved to a new apartment

I moved with a boyfriend.

I moved so much that he couldn't keep up

he left.

I was moved into depression, till I was so sick of it.

I moved myself off couches

out of bad-memory ghosts of an apartment.

I moved away from years of disappointment

to a beautiful warm house

to new friends, to fun.

moved myself

till I was on the other side of the arc

overlooking the journey.

And with a smile lingering on my face I think,

everything is still worth it.

There's always moments about a point

and always a point to good moments.

:)

In the earthquake notebook

Since this is a celebration of how I goof off in class here are some words....

You turned away, handed in your keys

In the end, all you left behind was me.

Walk the hallways that once were streets,

the streetlights dim as I repast singly..

So here I am sitting pretty

in a house that was once a city

and you're my voluntary refugee

and when we fight

WE FIGHT HARD.

wreck the city with our war

and in the end we're left with broken hearts.

Buildings crumbled,

I'm under rubble.

pick, pick, pick up the pieces.

....yup. this was from trying to remember the song 99 luftballoons. don't ask

Frolic Date (circa 2006)

I had to put this on here. This is my freshman year of college and the reason why so many exciting things happened yet nothing ever got done :). To Becks, thanks for this memory of our frolic dates!

Frolic Date

Sunny day and decently warm

And school’s been awfully long

And I’m so excited you decided to call.

-For a frolic date.

It’ll be a Beck and a James

Ready to skip and bubble up

The entire world

Just two girls

-On a frolic date

Our busy lives somehow make room

And a great adventure begins

And we throw caution to the wind

-On a frolic date

We’ll get hugs from the PEC

And steal the engineers’ daisies

And get coffee

And if we’re lucky sometimes a TC

Who’ll look on at our antics

All fatherly.

-On a Frolic Date

And when the sun decides to set

And we’re happily high

From the people we’ve met.

-on a frolic date

On our way home, we’ll mosey along

And in our hearts there’ll be a song

That never ends

Just between two friends

-Who went on a frolic date.

Favorite Poems #1

Just because I also wanted a place to store personal favorite poems....

Irene McKinney is West Virginia's poet laureate and I ran into a book of her poems at the Jane Addams' Bookstore in downtown Urbana, IL. I always seem to find the best random poetry books there. From Six O'Clock Mine Report- II The Only Portrait of Emily Dickinson here goes...

She Says Zero

I have never been seduced. I am always myself.

You cannot prevent me from choosing

to love you in my way. I choose to love

what shines out of you, and not

the doors you close against the light.

I will never love your breakfast cups, your cravats,

your uses in the world. You cannot seduce me.

I would meet you in that open space

at the center where the real words pulse,

where the meaning is.

I will hold out my hands to you

at the same moment yours are

extended, palms up.

But I will not be seduced.

No. Zero.

Boulder People

Boulder People

You’re not like normal people

You are the people

Creating eternal love between yourself and mountains,

With karma flowing through your gluten- free bodies.

You move here

And become a more epic version of yourself.

With yoga bending your body and mind to a higher plane.

Inspiration to circumvent the world,

Careen down mountains.

Breathe without air.

Always telling yourself, no fear

Life is waiting.

Rollerblading

Rollerblading

Happiness

Is feeling the rhythm of the pavement.

The power of your legs as you push, push, push

Towards the sun

With the mountains on your right

And the wind on your side.

Happiness belongs to me,

Is created by me.

And that, my friends, is true freedom.

Once

I was in love once

I tell myself that as I sleep with the others

That exciting feeling of oneness

is meant to exist again.

That void closes in.

I was in love once

and it was a wormhole

sucking all the light,

the space, the clarity

Delirious and spaghettified.

I was in love once

and universes would fall at his feet.

I gave him moon, stars and astronomy

plotting constellations in his name.

That overwhelming greatness

turns to one little pinpoint.

The residual light

of a dying star.

I collapse inward to move outward

and I'm back on earth.

Water Laps

Water Laps

You left me in a sea of hurt and left my heart so sore

And when I learned how to swim, I made my slow way to the shore.

Two months later I’m drying out my shoes and hanging up bad memories

While you swim in the same ocean, and maybe think of me.

Political Love Song

Political Love Song

You were like a ball and chain

A Sarah Palin to my John McCain

We had a sweet campaign season

But I knew you were leaving.

The ballots in your ballot box

Darling I would count.

But the sweetened checkmarks of your vote

Weren’t the right amount.

Franko

Franko

Franklin Delancey Cat

Likes to sit and chat

One opinioned mew

Always turns into two.

And if you disagree

He’ll hit you up with pee.

From me, take a hint

Oblige his temperament.

Always Russian

Always Russian

I wanted you to take it all

I wanted things to burn to the ground.

A Russian reinvention

Of destroy and recreate.

…

I am tired now of self-destructing though

I want spring to come

And plow through this nuclear winter of despair.

I am worthy of blossoming,

Into a Chernobyl sunflower.

New Home...2 months later

New Home…2 months later

My room is painted lavender

My clothes are all set right.

A cat sleeps on my bedspread.

He spoons with me at night.

I’ve got a coffee maker, a space heater, a shelf.

Sunflower in a cider bottle, I’ve made love in my bed,

I’ve got my painted pictures: the peacock and the ocean.

Postcards on my closet door

From all my friends in motion.

And though I’ve gone far away from all the things I’ve known.

Everything is a-okay and I think I am home.

Coffee shops

Coffee shops

Sunday morning and I find myself in a quasi familiar haunt.

Coffee shops.

My money thrown at you all 4 years of college.

Now even grad school

Here I am.

Sipping like a subtle saint with her ears cut off

While honestly I can’t help

Hearing wisps of conversation.

The perfect place for writing odes.

Pieces, pieces of casual talk

Snippets, snippets of life.

This time though in the shadow of mountains.

Hello Boulder odes!