Poem

‘Afterbirth’

Metal birth

The clang of the saw my birth pangs,

contracting sharp cascades of sparks,

threatening the hair on his knuckles.

The man is pressing fleshy fingers

Over silver canals he’s made.

My skeleton frame a cold, dead promise.

In plastic boxes, my joints are steel bolts.

The twist of a wrench:

I can bend, bow, break.

I can wave, walk, waltz.

Now, a daunting task-

life force in electrical wires

requires skill and patience.

He assembles my nerves, and I wait.

I am not alive.

I am nothing yet,

but he sees something of a God in me.

A little God he’s crafting.

Bloggy Bloggerton

This has got to be it for me.

I've had many a blog in my day. Most were collaborations. My latest--"The Snooty Review," is a Tumblr blog. Look, I'm not knocking Tumblr, but I just can't get serious over there. It's more of a cat picture sharing forum than a legitimate writing forum. And that's what I need, and that's what I want to do here.

I am a writer--I graduate in May with a Creative Writing and English Teaching degree from Boise State University. I need to publish. I need what I've written to be read. And here, on my blog, all of that good stuff has arrived, including, but not limited to:

-poetry
-non-fiction, including links to Boise Weekly work I have done
-prose, which means everything else
-recipes (put the chips ON the sandwich)
-odes, laments, and asides
-erotic fiction (He slowly put the chips on her sandwich)
-scathing retorts I thought of post-confrontation
-captions I wrote, which are far superior to those assholes at The Family Circus
-700 different descriptions (meditations?) of the afternoon sunlight in winter
-new works featuring my pen name, "Slow Motion Jones"
-picture of my cats/boyfriend/boyfriend and cats
-songs I wrote about my cats
-plays, including the gripping autobiographical one-woman drama "Don't call me Dee Snyder"

Anyhoo, that's what's in store for you. Buckle the fuck up!