tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-54186717795546443332024-03-14T02:10:51.142-07:00writings, musings, and the likeanalynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.comBlogger66125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-29053645916185898622015-12-07T13:50:00.001-08:002015-12-07T13:50:30.419-08:007 minutes rushwriteSo out of practice but feeling like I need to start this gig up again somehow. In the hours before you were born I had several lines running through my head and sometimes coming out of my mouth.<br />
<br />
May angels guide you home.<br />
<br />
Lead me, guide me.<br />
<br />
O my o (no skazono po russki.)<br />
<br />
Je peux le faire.<br />
<br />
Andrew.<br />
<br />
Andrew Clyde.<br />
<br />
And the waves crested and fell. Euphemism for the pain which intensified and then fell as my body worked to bring you outside of me.<br />
<br />
And now you are here. Have been here. Three and a half weeks now. In the broad large huge eternal scope of things that is barely a blip of a blip. But your presence has been like a constant. Like you've always been mine.<br />
<br />
You snore as a write these words--a congested, adorable little snore. And I would hold you all day long if there weren't other things and others to attend to. I would.<br />
<br />
Angels did guide you home. I believe in angels. Seen and unseen.<br />
<br />
<br />analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-38916612898042791902012-09-08T06:56:00.001-07:002012-09-08T06:57:15.935-07:00we all fall downAs long as smoke rushed out the chimney,<br />
I would hold my breath.<br />
No gumdrops lined the windows.<br />
No candy canes stood guard as fencing.<br />
A witch’s house, yes,<br />
But no Hansel nor Gretel<br />
To make the tale full of fairies.<br />
<br />
I don’t know how to tell you<br />
My heart feels confused.<br />
I don’t know if there’s a secret lock somewhere<br />
Because my hands are empty<br />
Without any key.<br />
<br />
You stretch great sheets of paper<br />
Up to the top of the two story building <br />
And proclaim it won’t be enough.<br />
Disaster rolls in with the rain,<br />
Making the paper cry with wetness.<br />
Falling apart.<br />
<br />
I fall apart with your arms nowhere to be found. <br />
No big deal,<br />
But I'm doing it alone. <br />
<br />
Far and gone.<br />
Gone and far.<br />
You cannot come out<br />
Come out wherever you are.<br />
Where have you gone so far? <br />
<br />analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-82446681804694733442012-04-22T12:11:00.001-07:002012-04-22T12:13:41.357-07:00I imagine mountains alivegood luck charm.<br /><br />when you have the mountains,<br />never show them your back.<br />keep facing them,<br />even when you find yourself<br />back in bed<br />on sleep's verge.<br />they relish your visage<br />as much as you admire their majestic height.<br /><br />they want to know you haven't abandoned them.<br /><br />others they're fine without.<br />those who take no pause as they descend.<br />those who leave the debris you'll pick up, next time.<br /><br />so face the mountains<br />unashamed<br />because you help heal their wounds.<br /><br /><br /><br />My writing is so rusty, but I'm trying to work on it some more. Don't know how much of it I'll post on here, but here's a lil' bit for now.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-37140741913639578252011-03-12T20:46:00.000-08:002011-03-12T20:54:26.313-08:00missing CélineOne thought,<br />Of the oh so many after finding out:<br />And what of the milk?<br /><br />I wake some mornings<br />Waiting for my baby to rouse<br />And release the ache<br />Of the milk ready to come.<br /><br />But my pin-drop of pain<br />Is nothing contrasted with<br />Morning stretching into<br />Daytime,<br />Afternoon,<br />Evening,<br />Nighttime.<br />Weighty.<br />Full for too long.<br /><br />In addition to the heartache,<br />To the arms missing the warm load,<br />A cuddly bundle of baby,<br />To the seeing her clothes piled up softly,<br />To the holding her sister,<br />To the crying,<br />The sighs,<br />The kneeling in prayer.<br /><br />All<br />This<br />Plus<br />The milk<br />That will no longer sustain.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-4200802994922663612011-03-06T19:50:00.000-08:002011-03-06T20:00:38.470-08:00previously she had powers to do anything and everything.<br /><br />now she's not so sure.<br /><br />the troublesome part,<br />the bit that confuses her head and her heart,<br />is the invisibility and intangibility of the moment--<br />the WHEN.<br /><br />the<br />when-did-this-all-of-a-sudden happen to me?<br />the<br />when-did-the-former-me cease to be?<br /><br />previously she was.<br />then she became.<br />now she is.<br /><br />right? <br /><br />it should all add up.<br />nicely.<br />smoothly.<br />succinctly.<br />without a hitch.<br />sans any sort of hiccup.<br /><br />but the trouble remains.<br />disturbing the peace.<br /><br />moment by moment, though, she gains.<br />she wins tranquility and normalcy.<br /><br />she basks in the whole holy present.<br />she breathes without a glance back.<br />she closes her eyes without any forethought.<br /><br />and rests.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-2966466022984516632010-01-12T19:14:00.001-08:002010-01-12T19:16:47.451-08:00keep askingWill you? Will you be? Will you be there? Will you be there tomorrow? Will you be ready there tomorrow? Will you be there tomorrow ready to catch me? Will you be there tomorrow ready to catch me when I fall? Will you be there tomorrow ready to catch me when I fall hard and fast? I will be there. I'll be coming from the cliff on high and I ask you these questions now because there will be no spitting them out as I rush through the air into, hopefully, your arms.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-837166387776403722010-01-12T19:01:00.000-08:002010-01-12T19:13:54.940-08:00a start?The hem had come undone and she fingered the frayed threads. She'd sat down ten minutes earlier, waiting for the bus. Once a week she took the twenty minute bus ride south. The volunteer opportunity had piqued her interest when she heard about if from one of her teachers. Now she searched inside her bag for the safety pin she'd been carrying around for months. Her hand scrabbled around in her bag before coming to a resting stop as she remembered the safety pin was gone; she'd given it to the little boy with the runny nose.<br /><br />They'd drawn a blue dinosaur together. Blue with orange spots. And they'd named him Ralph. Well, <span style="font-style: italic;">they</span> was a generous term because, really, she'd suggested at least a dozen names while he stared blankly at her. It took awhile before she hit upon <span style="font-style: italic;">Ralph</span>. His silent smile after her utterance spoke of his approval. He handed her the blue crayon, and she slowly wrote each letter above his own self-scrawled name. <br /><br />She had opened the safety pin, pushed it through his overalls' strap, stuck it through the paper Ralph, and closed it. The boy had rubbed his eyes and looked up at her with another smile, this time opening his mouth slightly as if he was actually going to let words escape. He didn't, though. She, in turn, had patted his head and told him goodbye as his mother grabbed his hand and whisked him away.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-50959908076036668262010-01-08T05:52:00.000-08:002010-01-08T05:59:03.834-08:00nostalgiaSome days I find myself walking down streets that stretch so far away from here. Sunny days and ice cream bought from a vendor asking me if I have five kopek to make perfect change. Days like today that start with visible air and end with rain freezing to road tops. Days when snow turns to slush turns to mud. Faces begin to appear in no magical order. Alla's mother stumbles out on the street and presses both her hands against the outside of the apartment. The little boy whose name I've forgotten--he sits on my lap as we ride the bus to his house. We share a pomegranate while he talks of cars and guns in an excited voice. We leave his house to find ourselves covered and almost coated with a gorgeously sparkling sky, uninhibited by streetlight camagflogue. Some days. I have to pull myself back to reality and focus on the task at hand. But I welcome the respite. The small escape into my heart's memories. Shura and her full-cheeked, smiling face. The new scab on her chin from her latest trip on the path. I miss her smile's warmth.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-62397951939253435442009-12-17T05:53:00.001-08:002009-12-17T05:54:14.131-08:00sea sparkleWe sprinkled sea water<br />Upon your hair,<br />So when it dried<br />We could see it<br />Sparkling in the sun.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-65037831154977387952009-12-17T05:44:00.000-08:002009-12-17T06:05:31.133-08:00heart close<span style="font-style: italic;">I want my heart to pound next to yours</span>. You'd left it at that, and then we stood chest to chest in a hug as our hearts continued their beating of blood, if only a bit more rapidly than before.<br /><br />I know the words you said didn't signify one distinct moment of heart pounding because we'd stood like this before. Held each other like this before. And, yet, it was different because this was the first time I'd heard you say <span style="font-style: italic;">I want</span> in anything related to the future.<br /><br />Your eyes met mine and you said <span style="font-style: italic;">I want my heart to pound next to yours</span>. And that's what made me want to hold on to forever.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-3182235926004959572009-11-19T18:15:00.001-08:002009-11-19T18:23:03.058-08:00before the sun woke you upBefore the sun woke you up, I had already been to the river. I dipped in my toes. Hushing the automatic shocked gasp, I rocked back on my heels. I didn't want to startle you or the deer that grazed but one hundred yards away. <br /><br />The butterflies began unfurling their wings to the warming rays as you fluttered open your eyes. Too bad we can't take flight with them and skim the surface to search out the source of this icy water.<br /><br />But not always too bad because here we gaze with our eyes closed. We figure out their flight patterns and follow them even while moored solidly to the rock upon which we crouch.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-53040453315199747132009-11-19T18:12:00.000-08:002009-11-19T18:14:39.797-08:00not of the rainI run through the rain.<br />Wish it would soak through my skin,<br />Rather than slide off,<br />Leaving me by myself again.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-3467624115966292832009-11-09T06:15:00.000-08:002009-11-09T06:22:37.713-08:00summer praisecaught between the lines drawn with two thick black pieces of chalk. there's dust in the air and i find it hard to inhale and then i have nothing at all to exhale. it's just a cough and i feel as if there are hands on my throat. the fingers dig into my skin and I close my eyes. it doesn't have to be so violent, though. we can run through fields on blue sky, yellow sun, pink flower days. we can fall on our backs and wish on a cloud. yes, this is called day-time desiring. it's not a nighttime ritual where stars get wishes shoved upon them. it's just a cloud. maybe the whitest. maybe the puffiest. maybe the one that's moving the fastest and we can stop it long enough to cast our wish upon it, before we lose sight of it to the brown mountain. our wish. we share. it's not a mine nor a yours thing. it's simply simple and all the colors make us smile and shine. we've forgotten the snow-cold winter days when we wore nothing but frost on our faces. for now is the time for freckles. the time for blonding of hair.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-86961686216237969272009-11-02T16:48:00.000-08:002009-11-02T16:58:33.581-08:00a year ago (rushwrite)Hopes too high.<br />Come crashing down like a kite cut from the sky.<br />Failure to fly<br />Creates a crumpled figure<br />Crushed into dirty snow.<br />My nose bleeds through my fingers.<br />I wipe my hands on my pants<br />Then raise them to catch the blood again.<br />There's no stopping it.<br />The legs of my pants cling to me with wet.<br />The patches where I knelt<br />Have turned a shade of icy, bloody brown.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-55589715420327008762009-10-30T06:30:00.000-07:002009-10-30T06:32:21.564-07:00instant magicat least that's what it felt like<br /><br />because at first<br />there was nothing<br /><br />and then in a flash<br />everything existedanalynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-57026660117949470492009-10-06T11:44:00.000-07:002009-10-06T11:50:04.292-07:00let'sBecause I haven't writtten on here in ages and I haven't really written much creatively of late, I looked back to something I wrote this February and modified it. See below...(yay for lunchtime to give me time to eat, listen to a Conference talk, and write a little bit...one more class to go for the day.)<br /><br /><br /><br />You'd never guess my greatest fear.<br />You'd never guess the things so dear to me.<br />You'd never guess all this about me,<br />And I, in turn, would never guess as much about you.<br /><br />That's why there's talk,<br />No?<br /><br />That's why we need to talk.<br /><br />I would like to try to<br />Get around<br />All the<br />Guessing,<br />Conjecturing,<br />Supposing.<br /><br />Things aren't always what they seem to be.<br />Isn't that a saying?<br />Well, same with people.<br /><br />So let's talk.<br />Because you'd never guess all I want you to know,<br />Need you to know.<br />And I'd never guess the same.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-13773383154495541712009-08-18T13:58:00.000-07:002009-08-18T14:23:11.737-07:00orbs<div style="text-align: left;"><div style="text-align: left;"><div>My dreams miss me.<br /><br /></div> <div>I startled awake,<br />And left them weeping their weaving tale.<br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>I almost cried </div> <div>When I stepped outside.<br />The moon globed in the west.</div> <div>But with no glasses gracing my face,<br />I couldn't make out its detail.<br /><br /></div> <div> </div> <div>Is it the same with you sometimes?</div> <div>You step away from me,<br />And tires spinning have crushed the lenses</div> <div>Which bring things into focus.<br /><br /></div> <div>I can see the oval of your face,</div> <div>But can't distinguish<br />Between the way your mouth moves<br />To make an 'O' sound<br />And the way it slowly<br /><div style="text-align: right;"> <br /><div style="text-align: center;">comes to a sad close.</div></div></div> </div><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-indent: -1em;"><span> </span></span><br /><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-indent: -1em;"><span></span></span></div><span style="display: block; padding-left: 6em; text-indent: -1em;"><span> </span></span>analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-82816925376305995962009-07-21T14:22:00.000-07:002009-07-21T14:47:23.713-07:00pause<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IMbsO16aV6w/SmY2d8UP65I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/utBm_8z8m50/s1600-h/IMG_3376.JPG"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 320px; height: 240px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_IMbsO16aV6w/SmY2d8UP65I/AAAAAAAAAsQ/utBm_8z8m50/s320/IMG_3376.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5361032294466317202" border="0" /></a>Waves crash upon the sand. I search for rounded sea glass amid the pebbles that stick to the bottom of my feet. We sink into sand and sea water kisses our knees. I kneel and fill my hands with sand. I move and mound it into the shape of a dome. You remain standing, so, with more sand, I cover your feet. Moments later you crouch down, breaking through your feet's fetters, and add to the dome. But your eyes stretch out to the horizon and don't focus on this moment. My eyes on yours, I can't see where you've gone, although you're still very literally and physically here. I'm not with you, wherever you are. I stand and step a few more paces into the water until it hits me hip-high. I raise my arms and look up at the white clouds turning pink. I sway my hands in the water and bring some to my face. I start back towards you. Looking at my feet, I place them on the bigger rocks. I don't want to slip. And then. Underwater. I choke because the force of you pushing me under has left me without air. The abruptness of submersion incites me to laughter, not aiding the choking situation much. I grab your waist. I laugh. You smile. I quiet down, regain the ability to breathe again, and it's just us standing there. Heaving breaths towards the horizon and wet with water, we pause. Together.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-21199063858761657962009-07-19T14:48:00.000-07:002009-07-19T14:49:44.696-07:00alreadyShe couldn't bring back the way he said her name,<br />Despite the ringing in her ears.<br /><br />Her memory echoed with his voice--<br /><i><br />I don't know</i>, <i><br /><br />Wait and see</i>,<br /><br />and<br /><br /><i>Oh my goodness</i>.<br /><br />Her name, though,<br /><br />No.<br /><br />She would think.<br />She would wonder.<br /><br />How did you say my name?<br />Was it always with a hint of a smile?<br />Why did I rarely lock eyes with you in that moment?<br />Was it out of fear?<br />Or out of too much heedless love?<br />Did you ever say my name happily?<br />Or was it always already soaked with regret?<br /><br />Always already,<br />Her name<br />Gone.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-4519061634651466972009-07-14T13:56:00.000-07:002009-07-14T13:58:59.078-07:00set to "Dance Theme of the 80's"last night.<br />sun down.<br />street lights.<br />drive round.<br /><br />song loud.<br />chlorine sting.<br />perfect crowd.<br />voices sing.<br /><br />pull in.<br />one more.<br />perfect grins.<br />sweet core.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-4150108149913634572009-06-26T13:31:00.000-07:002009-06-26T13:47:41.971-07:00ledge's edgeNext to the windowsill<br />She curled herself into sleep,<br />Hoping some big friendly giant would scoop her up<br />And take her away from<br />Here.<br /><br />But her perch was not edgy enough.<br />How was she to know?<br /><br />So,<br />No sauntering, amiable giant<br />Became her rescuer.<br /><br />There she lay,<br />Awake the whole night.<br />Eyes closed but awake,<br />Waiting.<br /><br />Morning came.<br />She stepped back into the room<br />And tried to face the day.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-77387537526747036182009-05-05T13:45:00.001-07:002009-05-05T14:43:10.546-07:00rushwrite 4 may 2009How can I miss something I have never had?<br /><br />I miss the way I held you in my dream.<br /><br />You were mine,<br />And I held you.<br /><br />You were new to this earth,<br />And I was yours.<br /><br />I held you.<br /><br />A soft new towel to swaddle you in.<br /><br />I miss the way my hand supported your head.<br /><br />I miss your eyes.<br /> Your mouth.<br /> Your round belly.<br /><br />I miss you.<br /><br />You had no name to me yet,<br />But I knew our blood forged the bond between us.<br /><br />Sometimes it's just you.<br />Sometimes you're a girl.<br />Sometimes you're a boy.<br />I hope it doesn't disturb you--no set sex.<br />It seems no cause for alarm to me;<br />Just dreamland making dreamy sense like usual.<br /><br />Sometimes it's just you with me.<br />Sometimes, like last night, more accompany you.<br /><br />Last night you had two older sisters.<br />All of you were mine.<br />I was all of yours.<br />And I miss you all.<br /><br />I ask this question too:<br />Who stands,<br />Who sits,<br />Who stays<br />Beside me?<br /><br />For in dream, there is no one.<br /><br />Not even a phantom<br />Not even a wisp of tangible air<br />Not even a vanishing flash<br /><br />Nothing.<br />No one.<br />No one here now either.<br /><br />I stand<br /><br />Sol<br />i<br />tary<br /><br />Almost solitary.<br />Solitarily missing you.<br /><br />Visit me again soon.<br />I already miss you.<br />I miss you already.<br />I will always miss you.<br />I always will miss you.<br /><br />And this part might not make sense:<br />Even when you come, I might still miss you;<br />I might be in such shock that you've finally let me hold you for real,<br />For the first time--<br />We will be each others.analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-22575821400397074592009-03-21T18:42:00.000-07:002009-03-24T05:50:05.974-07:00steel my heartwater my eyes<br />rock my knees<br />flower my forehead<br />wind my hair<br />fire my feet<br />dirt my belly<br />light my handsanalynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-2290740768553046182009-03-21T18:32:00.000-07:002009-03-21T18:40:22.055-07:00could I?I could almost<br />If you would<br /><br />I could almost whisper your name<br />I could almost write you a letter in another language<br />I could almost laugh at your eyes making a silent joke<br /><br />I could almost<br />If you would<br /><br />If you would call me up to describe the shattered bird's egg you held<br />If you would perch on a rock with me and gaze above and below<br />If you would see me<br /><br />If you would<br />I could<br /><br />I could jump without a fear of falling<br />I could hold my breath forever<br />I could let you see me<br /><br />I couldanalynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5418671779554644333.post-60890090381052020632009-03-03T19:21:00.000-08:002009-03-03T19:27:07.604-08:00open afterit wasn't the way you blinked your eyes before laughter<br />it was the way you opened them after<br />they always seemed more sad<br />as if you realized nothing at no time in no place<br />could possibly make you laugh in precisely the same way<br /><br />you would open your eyes<br />and the spark of light would shine<br />still brightly<br />but tinged with a more serious edge<br /><br />it had something to do<br />also<br />with the slight furrowing of your brow<br /><br />for an instant<br />the space above your nose would converge<br />holding back something unseen<br /><br />and so it's you I think of now<br />as the laughter dies<br />on an exhalation<br />followed by a deep inhalation<br /><br />it's you because your after-laughter-eyes<br />haunt me<br />taunt me<br />with a morsel of knowledge at which<br />I cannot even begin to grasp<br /><br />so keep it up<br />you<br />your creasing brow<br />the withholding<br />the keeping yourself out of reach<br />I cannot understand you<br />and your laughter's aftermath<br /><br />yet?analynhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/17196754110694987831noreply@blogger.com1