August 2, 2006
the lacquer of your teeth
stretched over by
hot dry lips
powdered pink dough
two rolls
pierced with thready wrinkles
glint of water collects
steaming word stream
emanates, dissipates
nonsense
Posted by lizg at 10:16 AM | Comments (2)
March 4, 2006
BibbityBoBi
Wanna get angry? Tell a college student you're bi.
Here's what they might say:
straight males -- "that's fuckin' hot. you should make out w/ her (points to drunk chick in the corner). we can tag the photos!"
straight females -- "ohh, yeah... thats, um, cool" (awkward silence, general clenching of thighs, pulling down of skirts -- oh god, why is SHE in our sorority?)... or hammered at a party -- "oh my god, you are so gorgeous. you know my boyfriend would love it if we..."
gay males -- "ohh, yeah... that's, um, cool" (pussy queer)
gay females -- "oh" (she's just GayUntilGraduation, impure lesbian, impressing dudes, trying to be hip, experimenting)
Gross generalizations, yes. Based on personal experiences, yes.
If you're like me and don't wholeheartedly self-identify with the term "bisexual," I think it's best not to use it. Get your kicks, but keep mum.
But that -- there! -- is it self-censorship?
Am I bowing out of a label because I can't handle the pressure of toting it? Cutting off ties with a community of like-minded individuals? Beginning my steady slide into adulthood heteroism?
Maybe I should wear "bi" like a badge. Maybe it's a password into a club. Registration to become a card-carrying member.
I don't think so. But I'm just a pussy queer.
Posted by lizg at 2:12 AM | Comments (8)
Why PDA?
Nipple flick, forehead peck. Is public grab-ass wrong?
Flattering? Natural? Foreplay?
or...
Ownership? Am I somebody's bitch?
WHY PDA?
Posted by lizg at 1:39 AM | Comments (1)
February 25, 2006
Making it a habit
After receiving a certain handwritten letter from a certain blogging someone, I was reinspired to do this. Problem is, I'm the least-disciplined person in the world. Anyway, I'm trying.
Right now I'm combing out knots from a long weekend. The layer of hair closest my neck turned into a giant flat dread from scarves and high-necked coats. Why didn't I go to USC?
Tonight's Animal Collective. One more school week until spring break. bell hooks is coming on Wednesday, but I have class.
OK, more later. For right now, some delicious poetry:
Giving Myself Up by Mark Strand
I give up my eyes which are glass eggs.
I give up my tongue.
I give up my mouth which is the contstant dream of my tongue.
I give up my throat which is the sleeve of my voice.
I give up my heart which is a burning apple.
I give up my lungs which are trees that have never seen the moon.
I give up my smell which is that of a stone traveling through rain.
I give up my hands which are ten wishes.
I give up my arms which have wanted to leave me anyway.
I give up my legs which are lovers only at night.
I give up my buttocks which are the moons of childhood.
I give up my penis which whispers encouragement to my thighs.
I give up my clothes which are walls that blow in the wind
and I give up the ghost that lives in them.
I give up. I give up.
And you will have none of it because already I am beginning
again without anything.
Posted by lizg at 12:31 PM | Comments (5)
September 19, 2005
shower clean
The suds from my hair clung
bubble white halo
And I was clean, cleaning
in the shower with my sandals on --
so even my toes aren't dirty
And I saw you
what to do?!
no bother
I don't mind being nude
will mind my bubble business,
and clean a bit more
But at you parasite, I stare instead
foreign object in my shower,
tumor in my skin.
And then an avalanche --
of soap and scalding water
pouring, pouring
from my hair as I bend over
covering you, drowning you,
as I reach for a bar of soap
frothy tentacles, my hair Medusa's snakes
you're underwater and wiggling,
but I don't move my head --
watch you instead
in a quarter inch of water
struggling, eight legs flailing
and a hollow arachnid scream
I grab a bobby pin,
thin metal gurney, a stretcher --
hurry up, up, out of the water,
you slide off I try again,
again, come now little thing --
move for me! hold on!
And before I swallow the bubbles around my tongue,
you're spread against the tiles
still, soft, legs wrapped like a sea creature on the pin
your chariot to arachnid Heaven
where the webs are golden,
and spacious, and safe --
far from soapy college girls
little thing, little thing
what have I done?
Posted by lizg at 12:50 PM | Comments (5)