you can't always get what you want

If what I want is a yellow card
or a tree-swing tree in my front yard
if it's a glass eye or monocle
or a shipwrecked captain's chronicles
if they're hard-to-hide adventure scars
or comprehension of motorcars
or my dentist's slight of hand
or a catholic's reprimands
if it's a cricket's persistent chirp
or a tight new overshirt
if it's Shakespeare's first-owned plume
or my own Ben Kweller tune
If it's a coy pond from Japan
or a check from rich aunt Pam
then what I want is far away
and planning takes up all my day
and if for these my heart does long
then my needing you seems half as strong.

Grad School

I've just finished my first week in the Political Science Graduate studies classes at the University of Utah. Scary because I am feeling rather pale in comparison to the PhD candidates and elder members of my PoliSci program. I'm in a unique position as a young 21 year old grad student fresh out of my Undergrad program, starting an unpaid internship and living in a brand new city that has a subtle tendency to pressure young adults to "settle and procreate." Never have I been in an environment that caters so impressively to young adults looking for a mate, and so seamless is their agenda, that after only a month or so of being here, I find myself feeling inadequate without the consolation of a date. I am by far the youngest in my graduate program, not to mention the most available. The two other girls I've spoken with, both 23, are married and have been for a year. Not that it's entirely relevant, but I feel that there is some innate connection between high stress positions, ie: fast track to intensive grad school programs, and or jobs, and marriage. It makes sense, but of course is not entirely common, to get married in order to get through all those tough times as a young adult starting a career. I must admit, it would be nice to have a mate to share my stresses with, but what ever happened to the good old fashioned do-it-yourself mentality? This may not indeed be the case, but it seems to me that some young people turn to marriage as a coping mechanism for their increasingly stressful and busy lives. I have yet to decide, however, if this is necessarily a bad thing, because as it is, I would rather enjoy sharing my stresses with another so as to simultaneously decompress and reencourage in each other the confidence it takes to get up and participate in the next stressful day as a young professional.

My Grandfather Speaks

Written for my Gramps's 90th birthday: My grandfather speaks slowly and low With a fervor and fire of the warmest glow. "Speaking is praying," he says to me And consecrates each syllable selflessly. To the world, to the warmth of any man he sees, He offers his words with dignity. My grandfather speaks lowly and slow Of stories my heart has heard before. Stories that hold the earth in their midst And capture the essence of timelessness. In that static space between sleep and dream, His words pour o’er my mind like sweet cream. My grandfather speaks slowly and low To a blanketed boy he keeps in-tow. He tells of the world he has just found In the sweetness of baby’s cheeks so round. Though only one will remember this morn, He still whispers the glory of being born. My grandfather speaks lowly and slow As we walk beside the ebb and flow Of oceans vast carving rocks beside: A beauty only He can describe. And on that beach with its mystique, Not even grandfather could find words to speak.

winter

i miss those
freely throwing passions at each other
i feel their warmth in my house
at my feet when my toes touch a cold tile
a cold time has come
it dampens my skin
and blues its tint
an icelandic twist
of sparkle and fade
Vinter muder
freezes over homes
in between the church and the barn
its early this year

verge

12:42 and starting to study. trying to motivate oneself is an eternal struggle.

Leon Festinger

There's no excuse
I had to try
(A half-inflated alibi)
The drink it burns
and gives me rites
much better than your hand could guide
In ink-spill rings
my true demise
like tipping 'tenders with no eyes
A choking glue
glazed over mine;
cast pearly tears among the swine
Like Faustus failed
to understand
life's not enough to be a man.

in the summer

seven months for future-life

locked

me down in the summer