when she smiles she is a breath away
from crocodile tears
an origami crocodile tears away at
walls of selfish youth
and when i see her in the mirror she
hides her face from
blue sun wonder
in a womb
of pickup lines and written prayers
a nest of headlines
a cradle of hitchcock love letters
once upon a time
i wished on newsprint stars for myself
tried to find a way and
time and time again tore the
new york times and i was
new
but she
stuck between pages is
leaping between lines is
landing falling landing
in a pool of blue ink
watering hole where the origami
crocodile sheds little girl tears
and i tear up when i tear out this
thin and fragile truth
that should've been in my
broken fairy tale
i use sticky wishes to try and glue
her history into my own
while giant jaws of what is to come
crash down in my mouth
rumbling as they rip a
600 mile paper cut
and yet the thing about paper is that it
folds and folds
command me to unfold you and find
the poem written there
rearrange the words and fold and seal
it up again inside a yellow envelope
send it to your paper doll baby
hanging by a shining string in that
white sky
paper playgrounds
for us to paint a future and a past
where the crocodile and the seal
and the little paper doll
applaud our wild hearts
and teach us how to read and write
stories that our lips never part to release
let your watery eyes tell the truth
turning the notebook transparent so that
i see you
your lovely ghosts trailing behind
an epilogue
legend will end
in beauteous watercolor flames of blue sun
licking upwards like the corners of your mouth
when you smile my breath away
and fashioning a white paper flag
surrender to your own strength
Monday, March 1, 2010
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
My Words Flow
Below is a poem I wrote in the 5th grade. Proof that my younger self sometimes counsels my adult self.
My words flow like a great river
Carrying me to a land not yet discovered.
My words are my oars, the paper being written on is my canoe.
The river will carry many minds in years to come,
But for the river, once a tiny stream only carries me at the time.
What mysterious lands I will visit is only my choice.
My mind is my steering wheel and I have total control.
I can change the world just by revising a paper.
All the mistakes in the world can be edited.
I have no fear and feel quite welcome to feed my soul.
I explore the future communion and think.
What is to become of me? What will I explore?
There is one thing a young artist would say at the time
I am safe in my thoughts.
My words flow like a great river
Carrying me to a land not yet discovered.
My words are my oars, the paper being written on is my canoe.
The river will carry many minds in years to come,
But for the river, once a tiny stream only carries me at the time.
What mysterious lands I will visit is only my choice.
My mind is my steering wheel and I have total control.
I can change the world just by revising a paper.
All the mistakes in the world can be edited.
I have no fear and feel quite welcome to feed my soul.
I explore the future communion and think.
What is to become of me? What will I explore?
There is one thing a young artist would say at the time
I am safe in my thoughts.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Last Night
It was more than I'd expected,
far more than I could have hoped.
PROLOGUE
In the dark, 45 minutes east to Detroit.
As the radio stations change we change
yodeling with the Cranberries one minute
articulating every sound from Sisqo the next.
After several wrong turns we make the right ones
arriving at a jazz club called Cliff Bells.
1
Inside, candle-lit tables and curling smoke.
On the way to the bathroom I pass Yukimi
and again on the way to the heart of the bar.
She smiles and I smile and I
hold my breath.
2
Friends sit down calmly but I sit like a child,
Restless. I pulse to the work of the DJ
to contain my soul before the band plays
and I can let go. Friends get drinks
I opt for water, my dry lips with so many words
and wishes behind them.
3
It starts as a familiar hum, the opening
to "A New." We move closer, close enough to touch
and in between stares I try to close my eyes a little
but they flutter with electricity
Soon it takes over my shoulders and hips and I
sway in my seat.
4
I neatly fold my inhibitions and set them aside
beside my blue pumps which I have decided to abandon.
I dance until my hair falls down, untamed curls
extending from my neon yellow soul. I dance
the way I dance in the bathroom when no one sees.
5
Little Dragon must not leave. The drums are a beating
heart and the keyboard is a time machine running in
both directions. Bass guitar, a full moon mixed with
the warm honey voice of an oracle.
We scream until they turn around again, for
"Swimming" and "Constant Surprises" and "Twice."
6
After the show I waste no time, jumping on the stage
short-cutting my way to where Yukimi and Erik stand
selling T-shirts and albums. I walk up to Kimi
who looks at me with eyes fixed in thought.
"Are you...?" and "Yeah!" are the only necessary words
and soon she enthusiastically embraces me.
Erik does the same, and I meet Fredrik and Hakan.
All have seen my homemade video for "Blinking Pigs"
and love it, insisting that I take a shirt and CD.
They won't let me pay for merchandise that pays bills
The video is enough, they say. Will you make another?
EPILOGUE
I have autographs and photos and moments and words
and music between my ears and in my veins.
I am alive with art, a sweet taste on my tongue.
far more than I could have hoped.
PROLOGUE
In the dark, 45 minutes east to Detroit.
As the radio stations change we change
yodeling with the Cranberries one minute
articulating every sound from Sisqo the next.
After several wrong turns we make the right ones
arriving at a jazz club called Cliff Bells.
1
Inside, candle-lit tables and curling smoke.
On the way to the bathroom I pass Yukimi
and again on the way to the heart of the bar.
She smiles and I smile and I
hold my breath.
2
Friends sit down calmly but I sit like a child,
Restless. I pulse to the work of the DJ
to contain my soul before the band plays
and I can let go. Friends get drinks
I opt for water, my dry lips with so many words
and wishes behind them.
3
It starts as a familiar hum, the opening
to "A New." We move closer, close enough to touch
and in between stares I try to close my eyes a little
but they flutter with electricity
Soon it takes over my shoulders and hips and I
sway in my seat.
4
I neatly fold my inhibitions and set them aside
beside my blue pumps which I have decided to abandon.
I dance until my hair falls down, untamed curls
extending from my neon yellow soul. I dance
the way I dance in the bathroom when no one sees.
5
Little Dragon must not leave. The drums are a beating
heart and the keyboard is a time machine running in
both directions. Bass guitar, a full moon mixed with
the warm honey voice of an oracle.
We scream until they turn around again, for
"Swimming" and "Constant Surprises" and "Twice."
6
After the show I waste no time, jumping on the stage
short-cutting my way to where Yukimi and Erik stand
selling T-shirts and albums. I walk up to Kimi
who looks at me with eyes fixed in thought.
"Are you...?" and "Yeah!" are the only necessary words
and soon she enthusiastically embraces me.
Erik does the same, and I meet Fredrik and Hakan.
All have seen my homemade video for "Blinking Pigs"
and love it, insisting that I take a shirt and CD.
They won't let me pay for merchandise that pays bills
The video is enough, they say. Will you make another?
EPILOGUE
I have autographs and photos and moments and words
and music between my ears and in my veins.
I am alive with art, a sweet taste on my tongue.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
Saturday, August 8, 2009
11 days until the much anticipated release of Little Dragon's second album, entitled "Machine Dreams."
Three weeks ago, I was probably floating around inches away from the band. I went to New York City for a weekend to see Little Dragon perform at the Central Park Summer Stage. Not only was this performance free, but it was one of few LD concerts in the country that wasn't held in a 21+ venue. (As some of my readers may know, I will be 20 until mid-October.) While in New York City, I stayed with a good friend of mine who scored a summer marketing internship through NYU. I hadn't seen the City since childhood, and both my friend and I were wayyy excited to see Little Dragon perform live. Unfortunately, that moment never came.
We arrived in Central Park on Saturday at about half past 3. Despite my desires to get there earlier in the day, my friend decided that we would leave the house and take the subway at about 3. The Summer Stage would be blasting live music all day - Chester French, Benji B, and Qtip were performing in addition to Little Dragon. According to LD's tour info on their website, though, they wouldn't be on until 8:30pm.
Anyway, when we reached the heart of Central Park, my jaw dropped. A mile long line stretched from the Summer Stage entrance to the horizon. My friend and I exchanged a glance; we both knew that going to the back of the line would be as promising as going back home. We sat on the fence near the front of the line, until I spotted a guy with promo material in one hand. He said his name was Live and he was involved with hip-hop music and film. We exchanged contact info, and I offered to help him pass out his flyers if he would let my friend and me in the line with him and his crew. He agreed, and I ended up cutting hundreds of people in line.
There were no more than 15 people in front of us when the security guards said, "That's it, go home. Nobody else is getting in today." Qtip was about to perform and it was around 5pm. I refused defeat once again, saying that I'd come too far for all of this. My friend convinced me to sit down under the trees until we could devise a way to sneak in. Then, halfway through Qtip's show, Live texted us:
Live: R u in?
Me: No, u?
Live: Yeah. Go back to security and let him kno u were in front b4. He'll let u in, that's how I got in.
My friend and I rushed to the front, where it all had begun. We asked the security guard if we could get in, explaining that we were at the front of the line before. Still, he said, "Sorry, nobody else is getting in today." I shot back, "Well, after Qtip is done performing, I'm sure some people will be leaving... Will you be letting more people in then?"
"Qtip is the last performer of the day," he replied. My jaw dropped again. How was this possible? "Well, did someone cancel? Because I came to see Little Dragon--"
"Little Dragon was the first performance."
I exhaled. I gave it all up. Not 20 minutes beforehand, I had at least had the hope of hearing "After the Rain" or "Constant Surprises" floating over the stands and into the park, even if I couldn't see Little Dragon with my own eyes. And now, I realized that we had arrived 30 minutes too late, and there was nothing I could do.
300 dollars, 1200 miles, 4 days. Still, I wouldn't give up the experience if I could. It was running with my eyes closed, and the rush of adrenaline was worth hitting a wall or two.
Three weeks ago, I was probably floating around inches away from the band. I went to New York City for a weekend to see Little Dragon perform at the Central Park Summer Stage. Not only was this performance free, but it was one of few LD concerts in the country that wasn't held in a 21+ venue. (As some of my readers may know, I will be 20 until mid-October.) While in New York City, I stayed with a good friend of mine who scored a summer marketing internship through NYU. I hadn't seen the City since childhood, and both my friend and I were wayyy excited to see Little Dragon perform live. Unfortunately, that moment never came.
We arrived in Central Park on Saturday at about half past 3. Despite my desires to get there earlier in the day, my friend decided that we would leave the house and take the subway at about 3. The Summer Stage would be blasting live music all day - Chester French, Benji B, and Qtip were performing in addition to Little Dragon. According to LD's tour info on their website, though, they wouldn't be on until 8:30pm.
Anyway, when we reached the heart of Central Park, my jaw dropped. A mile long line stretched from the Summer Stage entrance to the horizon. My friend and I exchanged a glance; we both knew that going to the back of the line would be as promising as going back home. We sat on the fence near the front of the line, until I spotted a guy with promo material in one hand. He said his name was Live and he was involved with hip-hop music and film. We exchanged contact info, and I offered to help him pass out his flyers if he would let my friend and me in the line with him and his crew. He agreed, and I ended up cutting hundreds of people in line.
There were no more than 15 people in front of us when the security guards said, "That's it, go home. Nobody else is getting in today." Qtip was about to perform and it was around 5pm. I refused defeat once again, saying that I'd come too far for all of this. My friend convinced me to sit down under the trees until we could devise a way to sneak in. Then, halfway through Qtip's show, Live texted us:
Live: R u in?
Me: No, u?
Live: Yeah. Go back to security and let him kno u were in front b4. He'll let u in, that's how I got in.
My friend and I rushed to the front, where it all had begun. We asked the security guard if we could get in, explaining that we were at the front of the line before. Still, he said, "Sorry, nobody else is getting in today." I shot back, "Well, after Qtip is done performing, I'm sure some people will be leaving... Will you be letting more people in then?"
"Qtip is the last performer of the day," he replied. My jaw dropped again. How was this possible? "Well, did someone cancel? Because I came to see Little Dragon--"
"Little Dragon was the first performance."
I exhaled. I gave it all up. Not 20 minutes beforehand, I had at least had the hope of hearing "After the Rain" or "Constant Surprises" floating over the stands and into the park, even if I couldn't see Little Dragon with my own eyes. And now, I realized that we had arrived 30 minutes too late, and there was nothing I could do.
300 dollars, 1200 miles, 4 days. Still, I wouldn't give up the experience if I could. It was running with my eyes closed, and the rush of adrenaline was worth hitting a wall or two.
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