Monday, November 12th, 2012
I’ve been meaning to post for a little while (and have had a few ideas floating around in my head) but for now I just wanted to quickly share this poem I came across at my Chinese Doctor’s practise today:
Parra says in the poem “Inflación” (Inflation):
Inside the cage there is food.
Not much, but some.
Outside there are only vast stretches of
Saturday, August 11th, 2012
Hair, scars, and stretchmarks are sort of the same thing:
the start of a conversation you’d rather not have.
If I let them, they carve holes in my ego.
But I won’t wait until nightfall to soak in the ocean
or turn out the lights before he can find the shape of my waist.
Instead I make the most of hair, scars, and stretchmarks;
nearly naked in the sun, I hope they find the eyes
of those who wish I’d cover up and be quiet.