Tuesday, June 28, 2011

Mag 71


they do not recall
the messy heat of birth
their molten changeable nature
the way they screamed
steamed
stretched
after the slowly leaving heat
hot soft bodies growing cold
their durable changeability replaced
with fragility
heavy liquid weight transformed
into frail and flawless suspension

time flows like a fish
around their paralyzed forms
frozen
for our feasting eyes

Saturday, June 11, 2011

The Eyes Have it

Most people don’t notice this (or if they do, they’re much too polite to comment on it), but my eyes look like they belong to two different people. No one is symmetrical—and I should know, being an optician for the whole of my adult life. Having to explain to people every day why I’m adjusting their glasses to sit straight on their face, not straight on the table, and yet not end up insulting them—“Dude, your right ear is half an inch lower than your left. Yes, your glasses are going to look crooked when you put them on the table. But they’ll be straight on your face.”—that really brings it home. But my eyes go beyond thwarting symmetry. They each have their own personality.

My right eye is my cynical eye. It’s a little squinty, a little suspicious. It’s literally smaller than my left eye, and it acts like maybe it’s got something to prove. I think it might be jealous of the other eye. My right eye is my Clint Eastwood eye. Go ahead—make my day. Don’t look at my right eye if your feelings are easily hurt, because it will judge you, and you will always be deemed unworthy. My right eye says that everyone is annoying, and possibly should be mauled and eaten. My right eye would do this, if it could. It’s the only part of my body that’s not vegetarian.

My left eye is wide-eyed and na├»ve. It’s open to the wonders of the world, and constantly amazed at the beauty of it and the people in it. It is perpetually astounded by everything, including things as commonplace as my cat or my morning cup of coffee. My left eye is always surprised. If you and I have been hanging out for a while, look at my left eye after an hour. It will be surprised. It will be saying “Oh! Look who’s here!” More than that, it will be looking at you with the wonderment of a newborn baby. If you want to feel beautiful and amazing, gaze into my left eye for a minute. It’ll give you a real ego boost. Of course, don’t look at my right eye after that. That bastard will take it all away again. 

"You've got to ask yourself one question: 'Do I feel lucky?' Well, do ya, punk?"



"Oh my god, you're like, so beautiful and amazing!"


 And here's the whole picture, in case you think I cheated and cropped from different pics:
Please don't ask what's on top of my head. I really have no idea. It was an interesting evening.

And I totally could have taken a new picture to exaggerate the effect...
but I respect you guys too much to do that.

Friday, June 10, 2011

SheWrites Blogger Ball #4

Welcome to my blog, SW ball-goers!

You all look fabulous, but while you're here, why don't you go ahead and get comfortable? Take those glass slippers off, let down your hair, and stay awhile.

If you prefer photos and snippets of writing to poetry and rambling, check out my other blog at http://bellinghamdailyphoto.blogspot.com/

Here, let me help you with your coat...

Welcome to the SheWrites Blogger Ball!
(click the bookcase to return to 1st Books. Thanks for visiting!)