My World is Water: A Poem


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After a day spent lugging
my gunship around, a drape of foam
sighs over me––your arm, deep blue,

a velvet of cool crashing calm upon my hull.
An ocean you are that cradles
me, cannon-tattered, munitions-depleted,
safely towards the horizon’s lighthouse with waves

no harsher than the tinkle of your breath along my ear

as it glitters its way
in escapades down my legs to dispell itself
like a dozen rockets from my toes––You pull me closer
into a dream, the night all black except for
the whispers of stars you use
to navigate gently to the new day.

And so we go
Onwards.

I Believe It’s All Coming Together Nicely


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Not my love life or my secret plan to take over the world or anything exciting like that. (Those things are still showing no signs of success.) I meant my book.

I admit that after working all summer (or what summer we’ve had so far) I am only twenty-two pages in. I also don’t have a strict layout for where I want my writing to go–just a few things in my mind that aren’t necessarily in chronological order. But the the stuff that comes out of my pencil is keeping this thing alive. I keep writing things that I never see coming. It’s crazy.

Now, I still have to finish the darn thing, and then I’ll need to edit it. And then someone who knows what the hay they’re doing will probably need to edit it too. That’s not going to discourage me. I get high on the idea of my name across the book, some cool professional graphic (hopefully not one of those cheap ones that makes you put the book back on the shelf), and reviews of my book in the New York Times. If I’m really lucky, I can get a movie deal, although if they mess my book up I’ll murder.

Good grief, I’m getting ahead of myself here. I should save my murderous feelings for when I have more than twenty-two pages and maybe a solid direction.

But someday, folks, you’ll see a book with my name on it. I promise!

Ciao for now,

Mikki

Pens


FountainPenOnPaper
I HATE BLOGGERS BECAUSE THEY ARE EVIL AND ARE OUT TO DESTROY MY DREAMS AND THAT’S WHY I AM GOING TO DESTROY THEIR DREAMS FIRST BY CRUSHING THEM IN MY HAND LIKE TOMATOES UNTIL THEY BLEED AND THEY’RE NOTHING MORE THAN A SQUISHED OUTER LAYER COVERED IN THEIR OWN GUTS. I HOPE THAT WHEN THEY SEE THEIR DREAMS IN THEIR NEWLY MUTILATED STATE THEY WILL WEEP LIKE AN INFANT WHO CAN’T UNDERSTAND WHY SOMEONE WOULD TAKE AWAY HIS TEDDY BEAR AND I WILL LAUGH IN THEIR FACES LIKE A MANIACAL GENIUS AND WATCH THEM WEEP AND ENJOY MYSELF THOROUGHLY.
I USED TO HAVE A DREAM WHEN I WAS MUCH YOUNGER AND NOT QUITE SO OLD AS I AM NOW THAT SOME DAY I WOULD WRITE THE MOST AMAZING NOVEL THAT WOULD STRETCH FROM COVER TO COVER AND CHANGE THE WORLD FOREVER. BUT THE KEYS KEEP CLICKING AND THE MICE KEEP SCROLLING AND THE BLOGGERS KEEP BLOGGING AND NOW MY DREAM IS AS DEAD AS SOMEONE WHO’S BEEN SIX FOOT UNDER FOR A HUNDRED YEARS AND I FEEL LIKE I WILL FOLLOW IT QUICKLY INTO THE GRAVE AS I BECOME JUST AS IRRELEVANT AS IT IS.
THE LIGHTS ARE GETTING DIM AND IT’S PROBABLY NOT BECAUSE SOMEONE IS SLOWLY TURNING THEM DOWN OR THE CANDLE IS FADING OUT. IT’S BECAUSE OF BLOGGING AND BLOGGERS AND STUPIDITY AND KEYBOARDS WITH LETTERS AND RODENTS WITH LIGHTS ON THE BOTTOM AND UNFATHOMABLY LONG TAILS AND EVEN THOUGH NOVELS ARE BEING WRITTEN IT’S NOT BY ME OR THROUGH ME OR WITH ME AND I WILL NEVER CHANGE THE WORLD AGAIN MY TIME IS UP IT’S TIME FOR ME TO GO QUIETLY INTO THAT GOODNIGHT WHERE MAYBE THERE IS AN INK WELL AND FRESH SHEETS OF PARCHMENT AND AN ASPIRING NOVELIST WHO WILL BE EAGER TO WRAP HIS FINGERS AROUND ME AND HELP ME ACHIEVE MY DREAM.

Dreams and Les Mis


I went to see Les Miserables two-ish days ago. It was a really fantastic movie and I would definitely watch it again. I cried like a baby through about half of it, which was slightly awkward because I had gone with some of my friends and whenever I cry during a movie I feel like I’m the only one crying. Unlike a lot of movies (i.e. LOTR) when soldiers from either side were killed I twinged a little and it was all a little more personal than a lot of movies I’ve seen. I recommend in the highest (if that makes any sense).
And all this death and hurt and personal feelings got me to thinking about this dream I had two-ish weeks ago that was also very personal and painful and also vaguely related to LOTR (sort of).
I was a warrior in one of those old-timey fantasy-style battles. A bow was passed up to me, a shaft of arrows already against my back. I grabbed the reins of my chestnut horse and rode into battle. A bowman stood on a platform, mowing down the army that I was a part of. His one weakness was a gap in the wall surrounding the platform, which he had his back to. My burden was to slash his back as my horse ran past him. My horse and I were in a long line, extending both in front of and behind us, of people who had failed at this task and people who had yet to attempt it. I reached my sword out, but I was either too late or too far away from him. He swiveled, anger across his face, and I saw what came next before it came. He pulled back the bow and let an arrow fly right into the center of my neck. It was a weird feeling, not at all unlike getting food caught un my throat. Death was peaceful, quiet, and fast: I was dead before my body hit the ground. Then came a noise, a flapping like rapid wings, growing louder and louder and being pumped directly into both of my ears.
And then I woke up.
I’m not sure why exactly, but I have this eerie suspicion that that’s just what death is like (in the words of Sirius Black, “just like falling asleep”).
But anyway you should watch Les Miserables sometime, it really is one of the best movies I’ve ever seen and probably will be one of yours too, if you haven’t seen it yet.
Ciao for now,
Mikki

PS This is the first post I wrote on my phone.

PPS I would say “the first of many” but I can’t promise that there will be another one. It’s impossible to edit on that thing.

PPPS The only reason that dream is like Lord of the Rings is because of the fantasy-style battles.

PPPPS That’s all.

dreams: A Poem


tell me a story before i rise

a whisper before i open my eyes

the day is full of nothing but lies

the night’s the only time i feel wise

filler!

can i feel safe in your fist?

bending physics with your wrist?

nightmares my one enemy?

night you make good company

filler!

secret me the whisper of the shadows

sing me a lullaby before I wake

sun and horizon, my only foes

my dreaming will give what lightime will take

filler!

breathing deep or counting sheep

all to learn while i’m asleep

so give me a prophecy

night you make good company

filler!

so i’ll float upon a dream

night and i work as a team

for here in dark, not even a spark

will rouse me from the moon’s scheme