Ham & Fleas
GETTING IT RIGHT
Your ankles make me want to party,
want to sit and beg and roll over
under a pair of riding boots with your ankles
hidden inside, sweating beneath the black tooled leather;
they make me wish it was my birthday
so I could blow out their candles, have them hung
over my shoulders like two bags
full of money. Your ankles are two monster-truck engines
but smaller and lighter and sexier
than a saucer with warm milk licking the outside edge;
they make me want to sing, make me
want to take them home and feed them pasta,
I want to punish them for being bad
and then hold them all night long and say I’m sorry, sugar, darling,
it will never happen again, not
in a million years. Your thighs make me quiet. Make me want to be
hurled into the air like a cannonball
and pulled down again like someone being pulled into a van.
Your thighs are two boats burned out
of redwood trees. I want to go sailing. Your thighs, the long breath of them
under the blue denim of your high-end jeans,
could starve me to death, could make me cry and cry.
Your ass is a shopping mall at Christmas,
a holy place, a hill I fell in love with once
when I was falling in love with hills.
Your ass is a string quartet,
the northern lights tucked tightly into bed
between a high-count-of-cotton sheets.
Your back is the back of a river full of fish;
I have my tackle and tackle box. You only have to say the word.
Your back, a letter I have been writing for fifteen years, a smooth stone,
a moan someone makes when his hair is pulled, your back
like a warm tongue at rest, a tongue with a tab of acid on top; your spine
is an alphabet, a ladder of celestial proportions.
When I place my fingers along it there isn’t an instrument in the world
I’d rather be playing. It’s a map of the world, a time line,
I am navigating the North and South of it.
Your armpits are beehives, they make me want
to spin wool, want to pour a glass of whiskey, your armpits dripping their honey,
their heat, their inexhaustible love-making dark.
Your arms are the arms of nations, they hail me like a cab.
I am bright yellow for them.
I am always thinking about them,
resting at your side or high in the air when I’m pulling off your shirt. Your arms
of blue and ice with the blood running
through them. Close enough to your shoulders
to make them believe in God. Your shoulders
make me want to raise an arm and burn down the Capitol. They sing
to each other underneath your turquoise slope-neck blouse.
Each is a separate bowl of rice
steaming and covered in soy sauce. Your neck
is a skyscraper of erotic adult videos, a swan and a ballet
and a throaty elevator
made of light. Your neck
is a scrim of wet silk that guides the dead into the hours of Heaven.
It makes me want to die, your mouth, which is the mouth of everything
worth saying. It’s abalone and coral reef. Your mouth,
which opens like the legs of astronauts
who disconnect their safety lines and ride their stars into the billion and one
voting districts of the Milky Way.
Darling, you’re my President; I want to get this right!
—Matthew Dickman
”
Margarita Wednesday started one night when Bamer and I decided it was Wednesday, we weren’t working, we had no place we had to be and there was a need to celebrate our life at that moment. Little did we know that it was something that would progress.
The next week, we gathered a few more of our…
2 notes (via outtasight)
Narcissistic energy
Closing up a conversation about baseball, a comment was made “i wish i would have gone, but if i did they probably wouldn’t have won”. How strange is the thought of changing the inevitable by merely being a spectator? Can the expectancy of a certain outcome affect the actual outcome?
as a different man in a changing world, like Joseph after his stay in Egypt.
At the end of night, I begin by exploring the light and hope of dawn,
recalling the length of just past days,
and feelings the warmth of lasting friendships.
Amid the abundance of still fresh memories
I will journey on a path of transition
into the unknown and ever evolving
as I experience the fullness of time
that leads to closure and permanent growth.”
(something good that came out of studying) (via outtasight)
(via outtasight)
I’d like to extend a “fuck you”
To the man, whomever you may be, that created the brain and all of it’s passageways; all of it’s axon’s and dendrite’s, and it’s ever changing emotion.
To the man that invented water source heatpumps, cellulite, whiney northern accents, fried food, and elephant poachers.
I’d like to extend a giant “FUCK YOU”
That’s it.
A real, live Troll
- Blake - Cuh.
- Corie - hey cuh! sorry i wasnt replying the other night, tell me your story
- Blake - It's okay. Oh! Right. So, this is actually another person's story, A girl in my unit.
- Corie - ok sweet................you said unit
- Blake - Right before we deployed, I mean RIGHT before, she was married.
- Blake - Yes.It's a large unit. Anyhow. Her new husband has an adult cousin with Down's
- Syndrome. This young man has guardians, but he's alright to be left along for moderate
- periods of time, as he was the fateful day in question.
- Corie - ahh, go on
- Blake - While my coworker was at home during our four-day pass, her husband's cousin called her. He said to her, "I caught a troll!!"
- Corie - I'm having awful thoughts about what he means by "He caught a Troll"
- Blake - Concerned, as anyone would be, she phoned his guardians and informed them, thinking it'd be best if they went to check on him.
- Corie - please don't tell me he was masturbating and he called his dick a troll
- Blake - Later that evening, when they returned home, they carefully searched the house, in case he'd caught some wild animal and brought it in.
- In his room, tied up, they found a Jehovah's Witness dwarf. A real, live troll.
- Corie - OH MY GOD, are you fucking kidding me?
- Blake - NO
- Corie - was he scared to death?
- Blake - Apparently, a midget Jehovah's Witness had come to the door that morning.He'd been tied up quite awhile, as I understand it.
- Corie - what did he say?
- Blake - Dunno. Probably gonna press charges, I'd imagine.
- Corie - he cant, he shouldn't have been on the property, god damned Jehovah's witnesses
this is no.
don’t hold on
go get strong
well don’t you know
there is no modern romance
Time, time is gone
it stops stops who it wants
well i was wrong
it never lasts
there is no
this is no modern romance
in time, time is gone
never lasts, stops who he was
well i was wrong
never lasts
this is no
there is no modern romance
there is no modern romance
this is no modern romance
there is no there is no
baby I’m afraid of a lot of things
but
I aint scared of lovin you
baby I know your afraid of a lot of things
but
dont be scared of love
cause
people will say all kinds of thing
that dont mean a damn to me
cause all I see
is whats in front of me
and thats you
well, I’ve been dragged all over the place
i’ve taken hits time just don’t erase
and baby i can see you’ve been fucked with too
but that dont mean your lovin days are through
cause people will say all kinds of things
that don’t mean a damn to me
cause all I see
is whats in front of me
and thats you
well I maybe just be a fool
but I know you’re just as cool
and cool kids
they belong together
sunshine on my mind.
I’ve got big plans for the summer. I need to feel a different wind. A wind that’s born from the waves of the ocean, or a wind that swoops down from the curves of a beautiful mountain. This Georgia wind has me antsy, and I feel meh just about all of the time. I’m looking forward to sunshine, and tanned skin, beer on the beach, friends, and the feeling of wind from far away places.
I can just see it. trade winds, my best friend beside me with a beer to her face, and the feeling of summer. I’ve missed you far too long.
letter to God / thoughtless biblical ramblings
Dear God,
I’d like to start by saying thank you for blessing me with amazing luck. I was fortunate enough to win a small diary at the ripe old age of 11 for dressing like Frankenstein at my Girl Scout Halloween party. It’s the only item i’ve ever won and I feel rather irish because of it. I’d also like to thank you for my thunder thighs, my unusually thick body hair, and my love handles. Those things are really something aren’t they? With the right jeans on i pretty much look like I’ve got 4 ass cheeks, it’s superb.
I would also like to say, that although I do believe I’m really disappointed that ignorance has swarmed the world and the mystical alternate reality of “Organized Religion” has plagued our poor, stupid, little planet. I’m not one to usually have an opinion about what other persons choose to believe for themselves, however I’ve never felt more uncomfortable than being in a room full of devout Christians vomiting out scripture, (aside from my wonderful family)… You see, I’m the dark horse in my family. I’m the only one that actually believes I wont be smited(smote?) for not believing every word printed in a book that was written by a couple of dudes that were bored with boning their sheep and riding their camels.
I’m also mildly amused when talk of biblical prophecy is related to our recent extreme weather conditions. Yes, Haiti had an earth quake, and yes, Georgia got 4 whopping inches of snow this year, but the sky is not going to start raining fire, you can stop clutching the ole KJV now.
Anyhow, God, I just wanted to tell you that i’m just fine not being caught up in the propaganda of religion created by your imperfect beings. I’m just fine letting my bones sink into soil and my soul blow away with the wind when I’m dead.
Sincerely,
Your Corie
