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animal tracks ...from tomorrow’s girl

August 14, 2009 - Friday 

i know what happened
that's what's important

oh love, the teeth you've pulled from me
i needed them then

but now, were i to keep them,
well, the world would keep handing me
food just hard enough to match their
razor-edged bone

if you walk around holding a hammer
the world is full of nails

 ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

reach out and twist, she said
snapped her head let the ponytail swing
the seams of her stockings seem
drawn on. and those square heels

reach out and twist, she said.


July 13, 2009 - Monday 


her finger pricked on the spindle
karma's bill writ from two bodies
joined to make one

grandmother wisdom spells this 
piper's melody writ in blood inheritance

ancestor's song : how do you sing it?

are you in tune with the rabbit in your moon (love is near)
in what sky hangs the constellation of your heart

there is a time for sleep a time for waking
a time for rest a time for making
a time to bless give thanks forsaking

and let us drive our thumbs through cruelty's eye sockets
and let us forsake nightmare's scorpions and tongues of jealousy
and let us trim the hedges of their thorns (love is near)

no kiss from some ambitious prince seeking to win her kingdom
she woke by an internal clock naught to do with
petty white picket fences 401k's corner offices or babymaking

the drink poised to drop from his hand (love is near)
the land of death in birth and birth in death

she rubs her eyes to get the crust of sleep out



July 12, 2009 - Sunday 
1.

homa strung between t and s 
he strangled her with the leash
made of his name
she unletters his anagram
nine year cage now writ in sand
swept by her chaos
storm undone war unwon
both walked away from

lord knows the fiery grief she knit with
spun from the bones he broke

2.

she takes the wake up call 

pulls bodies from the thorns of thrown elbows
that were her hedges while she slept

wrapped in the blanket of his name
she tossed in her talksleep
in her sleeping beauty

princes died on her thorns
she trims the hedges
leaves the bodies to feed the vultures
that keep the world clean

timing is everything

get me out of these clothes they
belong to somebody else






July 1, 2009 - Wednesday 

ten penny fingers on hands made of gold

she told me her brain was made of straw
the music would flow through her to the keyboard

my tick tock heart listening
i smiled and unlocked her smart

no darling, you'll remember everything

June 25, 2009 - Thursday 
1.

The apocalypse was followed by seven years of silence
(slow asphyxiation under the slip on the glass slide)

she knows the sound of made-up minds
like the certainty of hospital corners
folded with starched sheets

slow dilation 
oh they like what they get
but her roses bruise

2.

where are your teeth, small animal?
an engineered rose - I miss the thorns

we have carpeted the world for our children
their bones will be so brittle 
they will break on the first wave

I hear the wolves sharpening their teeth


June 21, 2009 - Sunday 
I pray for you Sister, that you know this truth : Men made gods of themselves to rule over you and your family, with no justice. This we inherit from an unjust past. Let us witness, and amplify your voice. Resist! Resist the petty tyrants with guns. They fail to snuff the heart of liberty, they cannot silence cries of mothers to the ears of God-who-truly-is, and will always be, however temporarily usurped by men.

~ Jessica Fenlon


June 20, 2009 - Saturday 

love ~ the gold light above the bridge where i sat
and watched the sun slip down the dome of the sky

love ~ the tree i sat under and felt those lies pour out of me

i want those clouds 
i want that twilight to be my nightfall every night of the week
and the ocean to salt my nose when the wind's just right
the lip of that wet world kissing the sand rocks and port's mouth

oh i miss you, love, with your ivied brick and electricity
running through tunnels piss-soaked stairwells street venders 
homeless men with pets buskers brusque crowds and close-buttoned
the college kids out getting wicked drunk the heavy wet ocean snow

the lines of electricity strung down the center of the streets for the trolleys

oh i miss you, love, all no parking and insanity for traffic
let me come home to your wake me up with strong coffee and 
bolt for the train and how much can i get done in transit

the old bones in kings crossing under hand carved winged skulls and hourglasses
where i'd spend my nights sleeping instead of next to him
and those old bones whispering tourist visitors and how yes just how
america has changed since they were buried there

oh i miss you love

will you take me back into your expensive and good luck for me
i'm not so frightened now i've let go of that coat of
shiver and shrink and too shy
i've learned how to heal those old bruises
and better 
     to not get the new ones

at least not in those same old ways

i want to watch those thin smart one with flaxen faces
thoughts flying about them weaving new everything out of the air and their own bravado'd intelligence

i want to sip my coffee and shop at my old favorite knit store
and have cheap good shellfish and watch the sox from the cheap seats again

oh love ~ this poem has become epic, i know
i should edit it but instead i will leave it here sloppy
like the wet kisses of the teenage girl you make me feel like
when i visit you 

and never want
to come back
to where 
my stuff 
is
again







June 11, 2009 - Thursday 

Arlene and I were chatting today and somehow it came up
That jealous sister of hers is giving her the evil eye and making

all sorts of trouble. I told Arlene, I said, Oh that Jealousy's such 
a bitch. If somebody's stuck with a jealous eye

they turn their riches to sawdust and ogle what I've got
instead. Can't keep their eyes off my plate. Their food

goes to waste. What a minefield life becomes if we think
we're supposed to take care of other people's

jealousy by failing or being smaller than we really are.
Never sell yourself short, Arlene. That sister of yours just makes herself 

miserable not being satisfied with her own life.
Wickedness is its own reward. Let them starve

at their own banquet, the one they made out of
"what's she got? It looks better than mine."

May 24, 2009 - Sunday 
born San Francisco 1971
that makes me a
jaded-hippie lovie-dovey
cynic-poet acid trip familiar
with conspiracy theories

i wear jewelry in my hair
make hallucinogenic art
and am probably taller than you

May 7, 2009 - Thursday 


her body was in the same room as his
the cracklespeak of the tee vee
became the veil between them

i am here, i am just
watching the news

there are many kinds of violence

perhaps because the cracks in her
veneer were showing perhaps her ability
to manipulate surface appearances
to get a particular result
out of him had begun to fail
perhaps he bored her
perhaps she wished he was
somebody else

she got what she thought she wanted

she let the anchor tell the room 
stories nobody wanted to hear

she cut the line
let her ship drift away
while she was sitting 
right next to him

i am here, i am just
watching the news

March 15, 2009 - Sunday 
everybody's gotta hold on to something
something must have happened
you're not the type that somebody dumps

killers have blind needs
they answer without thinking
thirsty for the body attached to you

do you want me to tell you about yourself?
i won't dance so don't ask me
wind sands the paint from this house

remember to floss
take the last left before where the bank used to be
make sure your shirt is tucked in so the

tattoo on your lower back doesn't show
March 14, 2009 - Saturday 
my curious need to apologize

when you are the one
putting the expectations on

boy i can tell
you want something
i can't give

the answers go unspoken

i take off the dress sewn of your projections
and shrug

wasn't mine to begin with
it doesn't fit
January 15, 2009 - Thursday 
she's filing her nails
with a sterling silver strip
diamond dust to cut
the glass growing from
her finger tips

she's filing her nails
pursed lips
no one to kiss
her legs are crossed
her hair with curls
she's the pearl never plucked
from the mouth of that fat oyster

her belt clasps itself
three snakes braided into knots sacred
she's safe here on her island
she's the groom to her own life's bride

she's filing her nails
with a sterling silver strip
diamond dust to cut
the glass growing from
her finger tips

lips are glossed
the bleeding's stopped
her razorblade gaze
has been put away

there's nothing brittle about the knife she is
that blade flexes between your bones
never to break

that sharpest of blades
a better mirror than you'll ever face
too good for most, in fact
you'll find your smallest flaw
accurately reflected
in proper proportion to your person

she reveals your own distortions

as such
you may want to take your time
making your mind
before you meet her eyes

she puts on her crown
the candles in the room
the candles light themselves
and show you the mirrors
of thousands of tiny perfect knives
scalpels so fine
you are perforated on her mind -

she smiles the slowest smile
your composite is reflected
look in her eyes
instead

January 4, 2009 - Sunday 
I went to the door of your body and opened it

I took out tomatoes swiss cheese
basil lettuce and a little ham

found the whole wheat bread stuffed
in the shelf under your arm

I am surprised to find whole wheat bread
you never eat whole wheat

you seem to always prefer that spongy white

found the mayo
the spicy brown mustard
I made a nice thick sandwich out of
what you gave me

I took the first bite
and I spit it out

every flavor soured by
your bitter rejection of everyday life

when I bit into the sandwich of you
my eyesight dimmed
the colors in the room seeped to
grey black white

oh your hatred of all things near to you
the contempt you find so sweet

I put down the sandwich and say goodbye -

No, no, maybe I just hand it to you
and then wave as I walk out

before you poison my life
with that contagion
November 10, 2008 - Monday 


In this Israeli documentary, the filmmaker comes to terms with his memory loss around his participation in the Israeli war in Lebanon, and his role as facilitator/witness to horrible slaughters of Palestinians in that war.

The animation is beautiful, and allows the audience to come closer to an incredibly difficult topic. It allows the viewer to take the journey with him as he comes to terms with the horrors of war.

http://waltzwithbashir.com/ - the official website.



Most remarkably, the film was made with the full support of the Israeli government, and received 6 Israeli 'academy awards', while presenting the troubling reality that Israeli troops facilitated a slaughter that echoed the reality of the Nazi slaughter of Jews in the concentration camps - a theme brought up by the film itself.



I went to see it last night when my friend called me up and invited me. She said, "Its animated, its a journey into the past to deal with war trauma memory, it's right up your alley". And so it was.

I learned alot from the techniques of that film. I know I need to make longer pieces in order to draw the viewer in slowly, bring them closer to the difficulty of human violence and loss. This film taught me a great deal about creating that journey for an audience, and making it palatable enough to watch it.
the cheshire cat

jessica fenlon


Last Updated: 4/20/2009

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