Wednesday, February 27, 2013


“Write! And your self-seeking text will know itself better than flesh and blood, rising, insurrectionary dough kneading itself, with sonorous, perfumed ingredients, a lively combination of flying colors, leaves, and rivers plunging into the sea we feed. ‘Ah, there’s her sea,’ he will say as he holds out to me a basin full of water from the little phallic mother from whom he’s inseparable. But look, our seas are what we make of them, full of fish or not, opaque or transparent, red or black, high or smooth, narrow or bankless; and we are ourselves sea, sand, coral, sea- weed, beaches, tides, swimmers, children, waves… More or less wavily sea, earth, sky—what matter would rebuff us? We know how to speak them all.”

-Cixous, The Laugh of the Medusa

Sunday, February 24, 2013

The daydream is over. I look around and realize it is night. This time around I'm alright.

Sunday, February 17, 2013

The memory melted and I still didn't think I was good enough.
Everything I want is balancing at the tips of my fingers
indecisive as to when to fall. 

I thought I wasn't good enough and I almost felt it
hang me by the heartstring. 
Sliding down the tips of my fingers, it reached out and grabbed me.

It blamed me, and 
I didn't think I was good enough. 
From the tips of my fingers I let it

melt into oblivion.
It made me into something new,

now I know I deserve better than you.