ghostbusters

pangs or fangs? in my chest each morning.

we will have to bleed me to get you out

attach leeches to my arms to drink out your love.

expresso is the opposite of pot,

yet my hands shake for both. 

                              i need a smoke.

now will the defendant please rise?

i dreamt about your sweater and your hat

i dreamed you killed the ghosts of my past

and your mouth was warm, like wine

red and raw, pouring through my spine.

electric

the feeling was psychic and i knew the second i saw you smile. 

i swear that yesterday i felt new york shake.

its in the stars.

a picture from two years ago just came up in the roll of photos on my desktop. we were really happy that day, i remember. but i think i'm happier now. better off, anyhow. 

everythings changing this month. i woke up and realized that i'm entirely different than i was two years ago or even just a few months ago. it's a little unnerving, but progressive, i hope. 

oh and guess what. i'm transferring (for real this time!) what's up, eugene lang? 

i went  on a campus tour this afternoon with dad (yes, m & v are being supportive in this switch. i'm still a little shocked) and we were  impressed. i can't wait to go there in the fall. yipyip. 

i feel like the new school and i were just fate. i nonchalantly happened to pick up a brochure for their writing program at hunter and here i am filling out applications and registering for an interview three weeks later. also, i just so happened to sit down next to a new school student in the cafe i've been camped out in for the past 5 hours. what are the odds?

oh, also. my poetry and a couple of paintings are going to be on display at the artisan guild's art expo next weekend (April 3rd and 4th) in the slounge. be there or be square, youngins.

i just wanted some cereal!

The linoleum in grandfather’s kitchen is speckled and cold.
It clacks softly
Beneath my sandals.
The curtains are
yellow
The cabinets are almost
Yellow
But I can never quite get the bottom cabinet to shut.
It always swings back
out
after I’ve walked away
So that dad knows I’ve opened the cap’n crunch.
The box is red red red with blue and yellow--
Primary colours--
Lined up between the bleached white of corn flakes
That cabinet door always gives me away.
The way to shut it,
I discovered,
Is to slam it--
Hard--
So the wood will stick.
But dad can hear the slam
And he knows
I’ve opened the cap’n crunch.
So before he can come downstairs,
I slam
And run out the back door.
The cellardoor is next to the back door.
It never closes either.
A musty chilled smell climbs up the linoleum stairs
And stops only at the walls.
I take it outside with me as I run
And the glass in the back door rattles.
Now dad knows I’m gone.