St Andrews

the plane took off two hours late, giving me extra space to fit my thoughts, 

squish them into my backpack with my scarf and passport and 

zip them in tight so they wouldn't spill out when the plane picked up its feet and 

skipped down the coast, knocking pennies from pockets and hands from holding

we flew east to west, so the sun followed us home. I wondered when it was 

that the light left you - at what moment did we steal the sun for our own 

and leave you in the dark with only a waxing gibous for company?

- two weeks ago the north sea was beckoning - sun tripped over its currents like blonde hair in a chance gust - we jumped off the pier, my hand 

locked in yours and trusted. 

I plugged my nose while we flew, afraid the blue would rush up when it caught me -

I sat next to the window with my seatbelt on, looking for jellyfish in the cumulous. 

I pushed time between us, stacking it into clouds to stretch across the atlantic 

and letting you fall into the shadow of that distance,

both of us trusting the sea wouldn't drop out from beneath us.

Inumbro

I cast a shadow, therefore I am.

A Different Kind

I left you for a few months, we ran across the sea

I left you to find yourself in the London fog

write your history 

drown your sorrows in green, in leaves, in Blue Moon 

and whisky

in a third-story flat, a five-hour train ride from 

my Scottish hideaway

where I lost the world of leaves and vines for the dry free of sky

When I visited you found yourself drunk and confused, saying goodbye

outside the flat door - your eyes were asking but your hands 

and your mouth didn't wait for confirmation.

I let your lips find mine and we found different answers to your question.

I watched you follow your vine down the banister and 

outside to the tree-less streets, lost. 

On the train the next day I realized you've never really seen the sky.

I could understand - sun in your eyes - confusing clouds with leaves.

Showers

My stomach makes a hollow drum sound under my palm

I stand wrapped in my towel, searching hangers for stomach-covers

something to soften the smack of the drum to a pitter patter

My hair drips Pantene-scented rain into the groove between my shoulder blades,

sliding down into the threads that knit together my bra and underwear.

Later that day I walk through the door in the hall, crossing from the stairwell with 

the light-colored banisters

to the stairwell made of dark mahogany

Pushing through to the dark side my eyes are at door-knob level and meet your

stomach

bare,

with a towel wrapped and tucked in around your hips and only 

a foot or so away from my hesitating 

hands still pushing through the mahogany frame

- I follow the door through and past you so your eyes can only

hold mine long enough not to see the drumming

the first of may

we stopped on the shore next to the bonfire,
arms surrounding waist and shoulder, the wild north sea
watching as we faced each other
i looked up and he kissed me,
and we ran into the sea as if the fire was chasing us down the sand
ran into the sea towards the sunrise,
flamy pink haze greeting our morning as our legs go numb from cold

i waited for you on the stairwell in my invisibility cloak, covered in moons and stars and nebulae
you took too long so i left for tea and biscuits
but kept waiting
invited myself in and let you take the invisibility cloak off and throw it on the floor
along with my cashmere sweater

Grapefruits are suddenly easier

-- grapefruits are suddenly easier --

annette and i ordered a box of fresh grapefruits once a year,
fresh from florida summers
somehow their orange halos survived the flight to new england
the box glowed
on the kitchen table like the sun had left a stray golden hair
mixed in with fruits and flowers from the picking

she told me to let my hair dry before i brushed it
she liked the texture,
ran her fingers through it even when i winced and complained
that her hands would muss my braid

- i sat in her windowsill for hours and never wilted

Statue on a Fence

Today I became a statue on a fence
the sun melted my sweater into my neck
I was watching shadows crawl across the clifftop,
falling into the crags left by the tide - they crossed in lines, in slow motion,
opposite the direction of the clouds.
There was a statue on a bench near me,
perfectly solidified - he studied the line where the sea met the sky
while I tried to sketch it on a page, comparing high tide to low.
A dog passed and stopped to sniff my skirt,
to check if the statue was one he knew.

a lone

alone is a man, who you can't live with or without
he comes to you when his advances are unwanted
and leaves you when you need him most desperately
a healthy relationship with alone is hard to balance
but i've seen it done
he lets me come to him sometimes - those are the best,
the most intimate
his affections are worth the trials he brings
and only he can understand the spaces he fills, the need he makes

alone is a crutch or a fingernail bit too low
he won't leave me
- alone
like empty space, can never give

tide-taking

How do you do, said the man on the moon, and I asked him if he had the time - he told me to sing like the stars were the key and my singing would set them in line - so I sang to the stars and I asked them to tell, through their twinkling and circling paths, if the man on the moon would come back to me soon, and they said what an odd thing to ask - so I sang and I sang, and I wailed the night through, just a tumbling voice towards the sea, and the man in the moon must have heard my sad tune, for he found me awash in the reeds - set me down in the grass with the sand under skin, ocean tickling toes on the shore, he hummed soft in my ear and told me, my dear, from a man on the moon and a girl in the sea, in the tide we cannot ask for more.

philosophy of persons

i imagine i've met him before
perhaps in self-defense
so i don't have to bother meeting him again
and worrying
i imagine i already exist in an alternate universe
where the conversations in my head
the warm nods and laughing squint of understanding eyes
have already happened
i sit on my bed on a sunny day and say i already know the sun
why bother to go out and meet it

in my other life, the sun and i
chase clouds round the world til we can't distinguish one from the other

the day my best friend changed his name

i wrote my father last night, after talking for an hour with my mom
she waited until she said goodbye to tell me
thom's mother was gone - she'd been gone since yesterday morning.
my mother asked if i was alright - my father stood in the kitchen.
i said yes, and then said goodbye, and then i sat alone on the bed and cried
like i was five
and my dad just shaved off his beard.

Trace

these same tired eyes miss, every time
same, tired corners
of a smile
lose the red of moment and hurry through the hot shower to rinse the corners clean
and soft, turned in, not down or up, pruned from too much wet like toes and fingers after a bath
in the mirror she paints up-turned corners on her eyes.
mascara makes me feel more awake, she says, filling her corners with red.

daily bread

days you wake up with the song from the night before still singing in your head,
of its own accord
like the bell in the church tower on south street - you imagine the rough scotland winds, blowing in from the firth - stopping to ring the bell like school children running up to the teachers desk and writing wrongs on the chalkboard before the class starts - the firth of forth blows winds to the church bell and sneaks in the tower, ringing chime-ringing on the 17th minute of the hour and only you know why
the church bells don't ring on time.

Pleiades Sister

Last night I dreamt the Pleaides fell
from the sky, melting off and landing in the ice and snow pockets at the end of the earth
It was my task - my goal - to find just one, just one Pleiades sister and bring her back.
When I found her, tiny golden glowing orb, in a nest of powder snow on the hard frozen ocean - she had landed near her sisters but apart. Smaller than the rest - stronger than the rest - potent.
The star was no bigger than a mustard seed, wrapped in swaddling clothes of radiant and faintly pulsing golden white light   - she rested in my palm, hovering just above my skin, the energy of her light reversing her gravity.
I carried the Suspended with soft steps.

sea around the edges

sea around the edges

the sea's foam fingers
cling - dig initials into the sand - linger
at first glance the touch is shaped into the curl of desperation
the tension formed around the edges building up and spalshing over
but on second and after - more a bittersweet relinquishing
the ocean holds its breath for as long as it can, waiting for the black to crawl across its vision
and then it lets it go - rushing over the sands, surrounding each grain with its watery breath,
only to sweep its own feet out from under

even the ocean gives of itself
wave after wave rips the tide into balance

Horse Forest

brookfield forest 10/19/10

the horses emerged from the forest as if this was where they belonged, wandering the dirt roads among the red pines and fallen leaves. they saw us seeing them, and at first paid no attention, until they noticed us walking down the road towards them, two strangers to their forest, approaching with cautious but eager steps. they lifted their heads and set themselves in one line spanning the road's width, the leader a step beyond the others. they stood their, heads all raised and pointed towards us as we walked, and waited for us to come. it was an intimidating front, but they broke it soon enough, following their leader as he made the move to meet us halfway. Four horses in a row, spirits of the forest moving toward us on the unnamed road. When we finally came to each other, the lead stallion and his friend approached without any hesitation, letting mike hold out his hand in greeting and nudging it in acceptance, allowing mike to stroke his nose and step closer. the lighter, maple colored one, stepped to me while mike was with the leader, eager to see if i had any treats or snacks in my outstretched hand. when he saw that i didn't he let me pet his nose, too, but not without some playful pushing away of my rejected, found-empty hands. after a few minutes i moved to greet the leader, and mike the maple - the dappled gray stood to the side, skeptical, and the smaller, chestnut-colored one hung back, behind its two older mentors. the leader accepted me just as quickly as the maple, and even knelt his head to my level so we could look eye to eye. after bonding for a minute or two i turned my attention to the dappled gray - but he was hesitant. he seemed wary of us, the two strangers - not the people he belonged to and not people he wished to claim as his own. i held out my hand and he came close enough to nudge it, but when i reached out to stroke him he pulled away. the chestnut leader saw the tension and stepped back from me to nudge the gray and ease his worries. "it's alright, they're alright," he seemed to say. the gray still made no move closer or showed signs of affection, but at least wasn't hostile, trusting his leaders reassurance of our good intentions. i looked to my left and saw that the maple had become even more playful with mike - he was especially curious about mike's backpack, obviously hiding something edible and tasty. but when it became clear that the backpack was not going to be opened for him, he was happy to push mike around and see how mike would respond. he bent down to sniff mike's toes, and then in lifting his head pushed mike off-balance so he had to step back to catch himself, laughing. apparently happy with our meeting, the horses went on their way then, walking past us down the road, only stopping to investigate our car - another curious gray stranger - another horse? - imposing on their forest. we followed a ways behind and watched as they stood next to it, their heads a whole foot taller than the SUV. Then they turned left and we turned right, looking back to watch them wander to wherever they came from, or wherever they were going.

soundtrack
u2 - sunday bloody sunday, where the streets have no name, in the name of love, with or without you, i still haven't found what i'm looking for (gospel)
nina simone - how it feels to be free, sinnerman
s&g - homeward bound, bridge over troubled water

 

because he's the same as me

because he's the same as me we can't look each other in the eye except on special occasions

and the zenith's absent shadow
is cast as light on stone
A Morphing Fog
In my name is the cotton ball cloud
mist and water, white in the sun,
electric tears and the cold sting of snow, melting
and sticking
casting a shadow of its shape in the
    light around the edges.
the same as me
and because i am the same as him
it is a morphing fog, this name
To Sleep
lifted up and off
and because we used to know each other so well
looking him in the eye is hard sometimes, because he sees the side
"I'll fold you a crane for smoother flight
Fortunewings melting in the sun"
I'm watching lightning stagger and skip across the ceiling
flashes of white light like cracks in the plaster,
dead poet's society
the outlet -
I'd like to be the first to stand on the desk,
when the time comes.

In the sanctuary
I can let the quiet rustle of trees
trick me into a warm, filling loneliness,
and let the cars rush by in the distance
                the black dots drift
                the TV's brightness
                the pepper shaker
[why are] FATHERS [so complicated]
- the words are like the shadows of dust mites
floating in a sunbeam escaped through a crack in the blinds
                            swallowing
                            Trade
                            Trade
                        an airplane-shaped hand
                    open except to forget about the door and
                    The Promise of Electricity

It's as if there's a disconnect somewhere,
between my soul
and the world outside
where the line is blurred
time lengthens
clearing's rolling skirts,
weed-woven pockets in the meadow's palm.

"all i have to do is stick my finger in
- i don't know why i haven't more often,
we folded ourselves into planes
and sent our fortunes sailing across the room."

Without the outlet, the hole in the wall filled with dust,
on my soul
to tell me that the sun rises,
and that it sets
into earth-bent grays
- from rosy dawns to sailors' delight,
red sun-life pours shadow through my soul
and in again,
as often as possible
that's what makes the electricity
fell out side windows, jumped
of their own accord rather than die in the flames.
no, it's more like completely reducing myself
rooted in the live dust of soil,
I am learning the sounds and patterns of the birds as they
swallow the yellow brick road.

It demands repetition -
in,
and out,
shadows ticking out the beats
like hands in the sand.

Swallow
swallow swallow, swallow swallow,
                shook the
                black dots
                from the top
                to the floor

and this vicarious life of ours
might never

the preconceived frown
is more than can be shouldered
on the wings of a book,
an ethereal passage
born of light and air
and the black dots of coarse spice.
"that's what i need but catharsis is never enough."

Paper dragons,
light themselves on fire.
more than a numbness.

and all that's left to do is drink
let the edges well up as you wait
to tell me when the sun rises
and when it will set

where the shadow falls
a sneeze - an explosion
- and the ground is peppered
Wax Paper Package

because he's the same as me,
that's why
deep
you drown in the digging
"IT'S RIGHT THERE"
because it is heavier in the mind
and even heavier in the eye

***************************************************
Sundial soul
I have a sundial on my heart
because he's the same as me
the slight frown
the electricity of a world i can only
                in such bursts.

because he is
it'd probably help me cry.

that he kept to the side
and i know, like me
he doubts
i have a sundial
that i have called a dragon
            The way of things.
            Sitting on a blanket
            lightning didn't.

The Fort

He sat down next to her on the floor and pulled the blanket over their heads. They were in the dark now, just the two of them, the thickness of the blanket blocking the lamp and the growl of rain in the gutter outside.

"It's a fort," she said. He smiled, but she wasn't looking at him.

She sat still until he got up, breaking the tension formed by the gap between their arms - the air separating their bare, crossed knees. He left her alone under the makeshift fort.

"It's the best fort ever," he said with a chuckle as he dropped the blanket down again to fall over her face.

The blanket shrugged - "It could be better."

Unfinished Violignettes

These are all videos I started while working on the Violignettes project but didn't have time to finish...

"Warmups"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fM46HDGwFcs




"Speed"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OXFDrZ12hfA





"LIGHTPLAY 9"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BzKVC_FaWc0





"Lightplay 7"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yesQayieeWo





"Lightplay 4"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XjAL0B5QTFo





"Lightplay 2"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MynF6wuIzUw

MARBLES

These are my final, edited videos for video art, in the order that they were made - enjoy!



"The Ghost Town Mystery" - This video was our first assignment, basically using Final Cut Pro to make a 2.5minute video collage using 1.5hours of footage from three different Dick Tracy episodes. Most of the sound in my video didn't originally go with the visual I paired it with.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0Uyku06Mip0






"Restless" - I posted this before, but this is the slightly edited, final version. The main idea behind this video I made (for our Light&Motion assignment) was to show the latent restlessness that is in everything, even things that are still or at rest.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLKA1rVmX7A






"Violignettes ~ Studies in Light and Motion" - These are slightly edited, and there is a new video called "Wolves" that I added while putting this together at the end of the semester. I really like how the visual of the color and the moving silhouette/shadow is inextricably connected to the music, a visual manifestation of the sound. Kind of like synesthesia!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y06sVsJ9KF4








"Marbles" - This is an extra video that I made as a final project. It looks at the theme of "Restless" from another perspective, but it is also about living and finding meaning.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5kLCjE7iqdk