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June 2, 2010

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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running through waves.

 

 

 

like f   l o   a   t i  n   g

 

              un der

                        water

 

  a   foot

              below

                          the   surface.

 

 

 

                                                            no   sounds

 

                                    but    the     wash     of       water

 

 

                                                                                           trickling

 

                                                                                                                  (waves   r  Olling

                                                                                                                          through    my ears)

 

 

the light above blurred

   indistinguishable

but for    the undulating

                                    glimmers

 

                                                like sequins

                                                  on the scales   of a   rainbow  fish    or   mermaid

 

 

floating

                        dream-like

 

                                                through an ocean 

                                                                                    of muted    calm

                                                                                                                        and numb feeling

 

drifting.

 

 

everything moves so slowly

as if through a

                                    drugged

                                                            opium-haze

 

 

 

 

                                                                                                                        and   I can’t get out.

I can’t wake up.

 

                                                            I cannot move.

 

 

 

 

 

it is like standing on a beach

 and moving my limbs through water

     trying to run,

                        but the tide

                                    the white foam

                                 wave break

            holds me

                        back

pulls me

   down

 

resists   my   every move.

April 20, 2010

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
2 comments

the fog and the shadows —  on the loam

 

 

 

     like the shadow of my soul

            my reflection in the mirror

            our halves are identical in reverse

 

if I stare at you in the water

            you are    me   

                                                         r     e           f  r  a    c t    e      d

 

 

I often feel as  if

                 your silence

 

 

                                                                                    is like the right hand gesturing alone

      without the left

.

a   sound

   in a room

without    an

 

 

                                    echo.

                                                                                                                        yet,   sometimes

                                                                                                I     look at you

                                                                                                            and feel   like

                                                                                                                                    Alice.

                                                                        into  the looking  G(l)a  s   s

                                                                                    a    d-is-co-nn-e—ct

between   you(r)

          movement(s)

                        a   nd

                                                mine….

 

                                                                                                like the right  –not talking to the—

 

     —left.

 

 

                                                                                                                           and left alone.

                                                                                                                        the  right does

                                                                                                                                    feel

                                                                                                    .. bereft.

 

                         but  when the (sun)

                        hits   a   certain .pt.

                        in the west   ‘ s   hor izon

                               s   h     a   do    ws       l e   n    g   t  h     e    n

  time  deepens

and

          the heat   leaves  t he   e arth en l  oa  -m

    t o  hover

               with   (t) he

                        moist  – end

                        a  i     r

 

to   crea (t)  e                                   y

            a               m   -i- s t

                                    s     mok     e

                                                               s    -c-    r   e –e–    n.

 

                                                                                                                        opa q ue.

                                                                                                                 inciting   wistful-  ness.

 

 

 

 

filled,

            sometimes,

    with   the   lonely  c r y-ing

of a      of a    coyot                 ’s   -yip

                                    -e

 

 

                (a  fox- cat)

                        [  wiley ,

                               cagey ,

                            and   shy… ]]

            in the    distanc   -e.

March 18, 2010

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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the Sun.

 

 

      like the
sun,   my face turns to you

 

                                                every
time you walk in            a room.

 

 

 

my skin tingles,   and

       feels,    like 
a rock

      in the sun….  warmed 
.

 

my heart doth not beat faster

            it beats
STRONGER.

      Steadier.

 

calmer,  like
listening to waves,

            on an ocean

     beating back

the tides

and that

        pesky

                    sand

                                on
the beach.

 

 

                                                                                                            but
you,      like the sun

 

 

                                                                                                                        beat ever onwards,

                                                                                                                   assiduously,

                                                                                                                  tirelessly,

                                                                                                                 without rest

                                                                                                                 you make ‘em

       sweat,

 

(it turns me on,
but)

 

you make me tired,   just
lookin’ at

          you, kid

 

    ,  i worry

                        that
like Ozymandias

 

                                                            that
king of kings

                                                ,
all dressed in St. Patty’s day greens,

                                                   ,that   man
behind the curtain,

                                                                (that   
man

                                                            (without
a home)

                                                          in a castle : in a city

                                                      ,   his love far, 
far   away….   )

 

 

                                                                   that
you,  too, shall end up alone.

Hello world! March 12, 2009

Posted by theslapandthetickle in Uncategorized.
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Testing, Testing, Testing.

March 12, 2007

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
1 comment so far

 flawed 

 

 

I come to you as flawed.

                        This
scar on my breast,
                                                     right here, just above the rise and fall
of my breathing
                                                                        just
above where my heart beats,
                                                                                                            full
and waiting;
                            is from a bicycle accident in Beijing,
                                       All I can remember is black ice on blacktop,
                                                                                                            and
swerving
                and when I awoke,
                                           on a leather
couch,   up four flights of stairs
                         I recall looking under the white
wool blankets

 

                                                to
see    tiny   blood stains slashing across where my
                                                                                                heart
should be.

 
I come to you as flawed:

 

                                                           
the sun has left kisses upon my cheek
                                                                                    scores
of them,
                                                                                                           as if brushed
                                                                                                    onto my cheekbone
                              sunny brown freckles
                                    that
have no rhyme
                                                no
reason.

                                                                  Simply because,
                                                                                   I hate the thick, oil lotion feeling
                                                                             
that       SUNSCREEN
                                                                        leaves
when rubbed upon my skin.

 

I come to you as flawed—

                                                            but
not because of my own fault,
                                    I
was born that way:
 

                                                              the coffee-colored pigmentation,
                                                                                                             on my knee

                                                                       is shaped like my mother
                                                                                 splashed that mixture of
                                                                                     milk, cream, sugar and coffee beans

                                                                                                onto
me,  in her womb
                                            
forgetful, as she is
                                            in the morning times

                But I like it. I was born that way.
 

 
                                                  –and that beauty mark on my hip,
                                                                        and
the one off my cheek
                                                                          and the one on my ass-cheek

                                                —Mian
Xiang   says it means I’m vain,   and 
                                                                                                                       
good
in bed.

 
                                                                                                those:
I was born with,
                                                                                                            and
then    grew into.
 

 
                                                                        but,    I come to you as flawed

 

 

 

                                                                                 imperfect,   in my own imperfect way.

 
 

 
…. ..

 . … .

  
……. ..

 ..

 

March 11, 2007

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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break

 

 

to the slow swaying of trees in the wind,
 

   to the backdrop of
a blue sky,
sun getting ready to set

  tentative smiles

and elongated shadows,  
in soft white light
 

suffused gently at the edges.
 

                                                gazes
to connect

            and 7 years
to separate,
 

                                                insurmountable.

 
 

                                                          but to hope

September 28, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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oedipus ii

Naozi tai renao renao renao….

                    Oedipus. oedipus.   oedupis.

                               with hair as soft as spun gold,   and yet so fallible.
                           i can see the spots where you bald.

                and yet, though i hold your head steady, stroking gently spun gold through divine and human
                                                                                                        {you were cursed by
                                                                                                                                   the gods,
                                                                                                                                 my friend.}

          i feel nothing,
        but a maternal
                      spin.

                                                                                  and when i’m in your arms?
                                                                                                                   i feel a woman,
                                                                                                                well-loved but not beloved.

                   and they said;
                                     long live the king.
                                    long live the  king.
                                  long live the   king.
                      long live the     Queen.


September 25, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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somewhere between
 
 
                                    here     and      then

 
                   i fell out of love with                                                                   )the
  idea}
                                                being   in love.                                                       of

                                                                     {but i still want it so much,
                                                                                        i can taste it.]

September 5, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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two pieces of molten metal

                        shaped
and formed in the heat of flames
                                                                                    of
passion
                                                                                and fire
 

       struck and
cooled
            repeatedly.
 

                                    time.
after time.

 

                                                                                                            a
head, separate
                                                                                                              and smooth

                                                                        female
                                                                  by design.

 

 
                                                            hair
flowing as one
                                                                solid piece

                                                                                     as seen from behind
 

                        shape streamed in an ‘S’

            arms thrown up and out

 

 

                                                                                    reaching

 

                                                almost
longingly
                                                                 into the empty air

 
                                                             feeling as if,
                                                                                    someone
should be there.

and the man.

 
                        head
bland. shapeless by design.
                                    but
strong.
                                      smooth.

 
                                                            bent.
                                                    painstakingly,

 
                                                                                    as
if waiting for someone to be there.
 
                                                                                                            to
nurture.
                                                                                                            to
love.

                                                  to have
                                      and     to
hold.

 

 
it is the nature of the ring,
                        that
they be put together,

                                                                         slid

                                                                                                one
                                                                                           on top of
                                                                                                the
other
                                                                                                                        into
                                                                                                                   and between
                                                                                                                        each
other 
            so that
they complement
                        perfectly,
 

                                               making
a match. 
                                                                                                formed
so perfectly
                                                                                                            in
motion
                                                                                                    so that they fit
 

 
                                                                         in an embrace.
 

 

(two rings to make one,
harmonious and beautiful,
if not perfect, together.)

August 26, 2006

Posted by anoddphrase in Uncategorized.
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mmm, i like this one even though it’s basically a rough.

 

 

 

 

the world seen in taupe

 

 

 

form upon form
reflected in the mirror behind the shade

 

            light, like
the wind,
                                                gently
butting its head against
                                                                                    the
rectangle of white
               dispersing and diffusing
                    in a smooth outlined
                        diadem
 

framing the background perfectly.

 

of two naked forms.

            one
juxtaposed, and crossed against the other.

 

 

hand stretched
out to balance

                                                                                                            leaned
on the side,   to

wonder

as
the
 one
 

            upside down
triangle    figure
                        naturally
defined,rough-hewn
                    strong
                 reliable
 

 

                                    bent
and curved

around
 

                                    the
softer, suant

                                                            }double
S figured{ form

 

 

                                                                                                                           preening

                                                               the tiny fingers
                                                                        of
a brush

 

                                                                                    gently    &

                                                            calmly

 

 

                                                                    through
                                                            the
strands of her hair

 

 
 

 

the world seen in taupe

 

 

and the blurs
of the outlines around the edges
                                as she stood
closest
                                            to
the mirror.