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Ode to Brows

Detract ye from

Uneven tone

Oft picked oversized

Pores

Millenia of thin menthols

Amidst scores of

Hormonal pigmentation

Challenges

As you hug closer to

Obscure

Ink puddles under

Frequently squinting oceans

Of baby blue

Now arched, tinted, shapely

Dramatized, contained

Even when the forehead is paid

Not to move,

You’re emphasizing what the

Rest of the bitch

Face cannot do

things that cause me to love the colors yellow

the type of star that is our sun

my hair, if i had to choose a crayon for it

mustard, although spicier is more akin to brown

complimentary to indigo, but hard for scientists to define as such

gold bangles

runny yolks

mac and cheese of childhood: mom’s recipe with shells

thick knits

how it looks with periwinkle

the impossibility of hating it

my pilates ball

my beanbag chair

my obnoxious headphones

my obnoxious pseudo-obsession with gudetama

the right lighting is never white

plus white wine really isn’t very white at all

leaves soft but dead and fallen

legal pads embossed in black ink

the pages of the books which smell the strongest

twinkles lost in turquoise

my goldfish, dead at 8 years old

bananas with great-grandpa in the morning

applesauce before i learnt to chew

my inability to wear it well unless it’s deep hued

autumn

ancient art

saffron

pineapples in styrofoam in saigon

hints in ginger, cumin, turmeric

city lights

caution

that submarine

and the magic school bus too

my first examples of alleged gender neutrality

play-doh

nachos

the six foot sunflower of my weekend youth

number two pencils

my nyc metrocards

beaks

glaze

the chalkprints on my grade school teachers’ slacks

curry, but not my favorite kind

gildedness

gaudiness

the feeling of light in a windowseat

communication

how i know it’ll go with crimson

the light off the atlantic as it hits your pale eyes

clarity, joyfulness

the guitar pick i never used enough to know

ikea bags full of hopes for playing grown-up

giraffes

lemons

being seen, being bright, being wanted

its hints at creaminess

its refusal to not help me to see


wishlist

  1. space held and holding

  2. love reciprocated in a spectrum of surprises

  3. trust mounting me to deep rooted subtropical trees

  4. collapsed time,

  5. a steady breeze,

  6. clear shade and sun

  7. fear released—reserved for body + mind in worship

  8. true self-care the only concern

  9. music sustaining,

  10. engaged eyes,

  11. attentive touch

  12. contributing,

  13. cackling,

  14. connecting

  15. safety alone, in two, in a tribe

  16. tastebuds satiated

  17. climaxes uncountable

  18. cool rain right when it’s wanted

  19. the scent of lushness throughout the night

  20. pulchritude in interdimensional waves


distractions

the olive skin girl embraced her label of ‘conundrum,’ espoused once by my mother.

my mother would have me believe i was much more balanced and sensible.

i would take it upon myself to remonstrate—loathe for being told how i am.

 

frantically fighting against anxious proclivities, the rashes were the first clue, 

numbness had been coming on sundays,

when we died watching degrassi, eating

nachos with microwave cheese—my sister

joined us, but she never was in such a

toxic state; we didn’t use that word then,

we had others. so we laughed our ways through

point and shoot camera renditions of the same

people in the same pub, with only coarser and worsening results.

 

being a proud party girl, capable of holding down jobs, paying the rent, while

going to school for others, seeing the parents on weekends, staying out of

serious trouble, and only looking awfully disgusting while doing it.

 

but then there was Europe in spring, corner-midtown-office job with all the pretty color

coordinated files and the piles of stilettos under my desk, my two month notice given,

finally deciding on a major, the scholarships acquired, the rashes developing, and the accidental

relationships with people i had no business trailing through my wake having piled

in place of shoes. in place of shoes now there were books, and bodies, and rashes.

 

dermatologist: detergents, towels, sheets, creams, examinations, wash your dirty yoga mat,

no more second hand shops, phone calls, appointments, an allergist, but rashes,

and finally a shrink.

 

the olive skinned girl was very happy to try my small pills,

these were known as ‘footballs’ and i could trade them and sell them and play with my friends

with no care for my rashes.

but i took them, mostly,

and i don’t recall it, but the rashes went away.

 

as did the relationships with all the people that shouldn’t have been there in the first place—

the slow tearing and manipulating replaced

by sinning and lying and cheating and finding

more of myself

in the replacements

 

i was still lustful, bacchanal, vain, impressionable, excuse-ridden;

i was driven, determined, persistent, perfectionist, completely untrained, and susceptible

i was a wannabe looking about from suburban train-windows,

clutching latin textbooks, a clean thong always in my gypsy bag,

never sure how much was my intention and how much was my resourcefulness;

this was all long, long before the imposter syndrome had kicked in.

the irony is not lost on any of those involved.

 

i am working on not overly-apologizing;

i will never be good at being distracted.

the innumerable bands of the second floor ward

Contemplating Seafoam

Green Seats All Taken

Blurry Mustard Lines

The Wall Beyond

 

Fucker

Wearing Sunglasses Inside

But Still Tho,

Can’t See My Shrink!?

Just Another Day

Angled

Around Anxiously

Two Corners & Too Much Noise

 

It’s Only for the Drugs

Others

Seated Somewhat Sanely

Glowing Rectangles

Equally Equipped

Maddening Hands

 

The One

Who Stomps

Stop!

Humans Heaving Heavily

Dear Dude

Sitting Beside Me

Shake and Scratch

Somewhere

So Far—

 

The Appointment

Closer than Hell

Queues and Plastic

Cradled Incontinence

Eight Counts

Invariance

Eye Rolling Rhythms

Afternoon Moanings

Yes!

Take Me Now!

 

Breathing One,

Lean on In

Bitten Glitter

Whispered Concepts

Foreign Noises

Almost Processed

Unclean

Uncountable Nouns

 

Good Ole NYC Subway:

Easier than This

Tuesday Clinic

2

Keep Me

In the Good Place

Desperate from Drowning—

Afternoon Mad