Morning Haiku - 09-04-12

Earl Grey, Batch Number

T-400108

Cream, Sugar, Honey

A Veces - 09-04-12

A veces

el mundo

parece

como

una película

que usó

demasiado luz.

Todos los colores

se rabian

con los ojos.

Especialmente

en las

mañanas.

I've Never Met Anyone as Creative as a Physicist - 09-04-12

I’ve never met anyone as creative as

a physicist,

and I’ve met a lot of people

who called themselves artists.

I've met sculptors

who could recreate the figure of a man

in marble

and ones who could stimulate

the feel of the wind

in the folds of stone clothes

and ones who sparked chaos

in the hearts of viewers

with the combination of colored glass

spheres and spikes

on black marble,

but I’ve never met anyone as creative as

a physicist.

I've met poets

who could change childhood memories

into political allegories

and ones who made screams

sound like the lullabies

your mother never sang

and ones who made you taste

their potent lyrics,

some shoved down your throat

like medicine

and others slipped in your drink

when you weren't looking,

but I’ve never met anyone as creative as

a physicist.

I've met painters

who turned three pigments

into all the colors of the world

and ones who lathered brush strokes

so thick

you could see them come out of

the canvas

and feel the peaks and valleys

of the landscapes

and ones who gave a physical form

to the deepest feelings

I've never known how to put to words

in poetry or conversation,

the kind of feelings that when people ask,

“Are you alright?”

you just cannot answer,

but I’ve never met anyone as creative as

a physicist.

I've met musicians

who found the resonance frequency

of the human heart

and ones who could turn a melody

into a memory

without ever uttering a word

and ones who wove so many

different sounds together

to produce one simple harmony

that makes me shiver

every time

it flirts through my ears,

but I’ve never met anyone as creative as

a physicist.

The artists use that which we

see or touch or hear or smell or taste

to speak of all the things

that we can't

see or touch or hear or smell or taste.

They create new ways to

understand love

and life

and pain.

They create

that which we feel

in that which doesn't feel.

But a physicist

takes that which we can

see or touch or hear or smell or taste

and all that which we can't

and organizes it

in ways no one else has imagined,

no one else has fathomed,

no one else bothered to look for.

But a physicist

sees that which it is physically impossible to see,

touches that which has no mass,

hears frequencies over your ears' capabilities.

But a physicist

puts it all together.

But a physicist

creates everything

from the smallest particles

to the biggest galaxies

in equations,

turns patterns into predictions,

makes meaning from madness,

creates coherence in chaos.

But a physicist

fathoms all that is -

not limited to

that which their mind

or their heart

already knows -

and forms it such that

we all can comprehend it.

But a physicist

finds ways

to simplify the cosmos

while the artists

try to fill it up with

meaning.

I have never met anyone as creative as

a physicist.

A Plant is Not an Individual - 09-01-12

One small church in North Portland

had an unfinished mural

in a basement that hasn't been used in six years,

and a Sunday School teacher

who wrote a lesson each week

for a class of only herself.

But we thought to fix it

because a plant is not an individual -

one blade of grass

connects to its kin -

as you can see by

hacking ivy to the ground

only to watch it refulrish,

the raspberry vines

clawing up from the dirt

only a few days later,

the rose rooted deep

in the cement.

Something more lurks

beyond berries,

beyond leaves,

beyond vines,

beyond what what we think of as a plant.

But a plant is not an individual;

it would not refer to itself as I,

but as we;

it will not whither when bits die,

does not bleed when leaves fall.

Yet even when

the hoe overturns the earth

and the ivy have been tugged

and the raspberry vines have been cut

and one persistent root has been extracted

from a its encasing of a chunk of cement,

all I find are hidden garlic clovers,

growing wild under the ivy.

Escribo - 08-30-12

En los suenos

de día,

en las tazas de té

y café,

en puertos abiertos,

en ventanas brillas,

en relojes con alas como

un pájaro,

en cuadernos sin escriba

y lapices preparados,

en libros en libros en libros

y en leyendo

y en tarea,

en las esperas del futuro,

en las dudas del presente,

en cada cabeza

y pregunta

y palabra,

en cada acción y

toma de té,

en cerebros

con luces de cada color

y otros más,

en los sueños

de día,

escribo.   

Orientation - 08-23-12

All the girls here
look just like girls
I used to
almost know

West - 08-23-12

Big stone

marker in the grass

points the way to

D.C.,

points the way to

shipping freights,

points the way to

different paths.

You stop at the last bench,

in a mossy nook

outside the science building,

to write this.

Because the marker

brings him to mind,

but the quiet cove

and the green cave

and the physics posters in the window

bring him to heart.

The Hardest Part of Packing Up - 8-12-12

It's like
plucking a memory
from the
soft tissue
under
my bone.
Pulling sounds and songs,
twisting whispers and words up
to be piled neatly and sorted through.
Which to keep,
which to leave behind,
which to recycle.
The synapses that hold
them together
all shoved in a tiny tack box.

It's like plucking a memory,
pulling down my posters from Cross Fit,
cards from birthdays and valentines,
invitations to parties,
paintings and doodles
by me and dear friends,
withered flowers from ex-boyfriends
and neighbors
and parents
and friends,
trinkets,
Pokemon cards,
awards for math and science and poetry,
schematics,
blueprints of spaceships,
images of the cosmos,
hearts, brains, photographs,
magazine clippings,
membership cards,
album covers from old LPs,
clocks, stickers,
and the model of an atom
that I nicked from my chemistry class
in Sophomore year
on the day Mayer didn't come to class.

The Last Word - 5-22-12

What I want most, though,

is to set those words free,

to speak that poem to open ears,

whoever hears is fine with me.

This is my lonely soul

and this is the way it's always been

so give me my sweet misery and negligence

because Lonely and Miserable and Neglected

were the best friends that

ever could have been.

So, Miserable, my darling, I love you,

and any girl who won't have you

is a monster,

by which I mean to say that the one girl

who won't have you

only won't because she wants all of you

and all of them

and never to have to chose.

So, Neglected, mi carino, I love you,

now please accept my arms

and praise and love and affection

and know that I will be able

to have fun without you

but I do not want to.

So, Flighty, who has flown from me,

I love you.

So, Repressed, who has roared triumphant,

I love you.

So, Worried, who has wandered off,

I love you.

So, Giddy, who glides towards brighter days,

I love you.

So, Pretty, who awaits her thrown,

I love you.

And Baby if you hurt my friend one more time

I'll hurt you

but until then, I love you too.

My sassy, southern belle,

I love you.

My beautiful angels, left in Heaven,

I love you.

And Lonely,

and Lonely,

and Lonely you pathetic girl!

Get out of your head,

get out of the marshes,

get out of the caves

and the maze

and the nightmare

and say all the words

you've been dying to say

since they first popped into your head.

There is So Much Left to Do and Say - 5-22-12

“I sincerely hate you.

That is not to say that

I don't still want you,

nor that I wouldn't give anything to have you,

nor that I haven't already,

only that I hate myself for it

as much as I loath you.

For your brains,

your body,

your cruel, beautiful smile

that passes right through me,

I hate you.”

1. Visit every room in the school.
2. Meet every teacher
3. Graduate
4. Finals

“I have no idea who you are

and every time you ask for my help on

your homework,

your project,

your love life,

your friendship,

I want to walk away with a laugh;

but I stay and allow the continued abuse

because I think,

one day,

it will have been worth something.”

5. Kip a pull-up
6. Finish a short story
7. Write a poem
8. Go to a party

“You hurt me like you always do.

I work myself into thinking

the bright flowers are beautiful,

not poisonous,

and the bite gnaws into my insides in the end.

I tried everything

to reach you,

to be near you,

to slip beside you like one of the flowers,

but you always pluck me like a weed.

On a cold breeze the next time around,

I hope I will pass right by you

and all the other flowers

who bare your mark.”

9. Kiss
10. Dance
11. Bake twelve cakes
12. Get a new dress

“Everything I am and know,

I owe to you.

There is nothing of more importance

or value

than each memory

and magnet of wisdom

you have given me.

There is nothing I will hold tighter,

keep closer,

or love longer

than each thoughts you inspired me to think,

than each neuron you light on fire,

than each string you plucked

to the melody of brilliance.

Thank you.”

13. Sing even though my voice is terrible
14. Give her my clipboard.
15. Inspire
16. Breath

“I love you.”

17. Say everything I need to
18. Smile sincerely or don't smile at all
19. Love
20. Say Goodbye

Remember - 05/22/12

Remember three seconds ago

when you breathed?

Remember three minutes ago

when we laughed?

Remember three hours ago

when you thought it

would be so difficult?

Remember three days ago

when the present seemed

as far as the sun's explosion,

when every second was years

until the ceremony,

when each thought

could be put off

over and over and over,

when a day was a lifetime?

Remember three weeks ago

when a month was a week,

when time ran slower

as we sped through tests,

exasperated, anticipating this moment

that now we want for tomorrow?

Remember three years ago

when you stepped

through new doors,

thick halls,

bright classrooms,

with no idea

who anyone was anymore

no idea who you were?

Remember that second

you became the present

or has each second of future

become now

as each of now

becomes past?

Allegra's Theme - 05/14/12

In twenty years, I won't remember you
But you probably weren't that great
So get off of you high horse
And come and dance with me

Somehow we made it
Through trying not to survive
The end of the line and here we are
Somehow still alive

We've got battle scars we don't want to show
We've got heartaches we don't want to know
We've got pretty legs and ugly veins
Torn up thighs and broken brains

And tonight
Under graduation lights
I'm going to act like
I never knew how to
Pretend to be alright
I'll never be brave
I'll never be sane
But at least I'll never
Have to see you again
Tonight
Is the last night
Of this life

The girls and the boys don't matter
They were only reasons to breath
The girls and the boys don't matter
They were only reasons to bleed

In twenty years I won't remember you
But you probably weren't that great
So here's one last chance to make amends
Before I call it too late

I know that I'll never compare
So I'll stick to the freaks
And the nerds and the geeks
I know that I'll never compare
So I'll stick to the silence


We've got battle scars we don't want to show
We've got heartaches we don't want to know
We've got pretty legs and ugly veins
Torn up thighs and broken brains

And tonight
Under graduation lights
I'm going to act like
I never knew how to
Pretend to be alright
I'll never be brave
I'll never be sane
But at least I'll never
Have to see you again
Tonight
Is the last night
Of this life

Little Lightning Bug - 03/15/12

She sits on a thumbtack stool,
Perched on a pinprick
Waiting to hear the rules
She keeps her lips tight
Opens her ears and eyes
To every sounds and sight 

The moment passes
Past long eye lashes
When she can’t even breath
Just one right word
To one right chord
Quick, before he leaves 

Little Lightning Bug
Where will you run?
Where will you run to now?
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
You’re the wrong word, anyhow
Lightning flashes and lightning dazzles
But you look timid and nervous and frazzled
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
Where will you run to now? 

She sits by the light of the moon
Watching and waiting
The lightning’s coming soon
She’s hoping to learn
By watching the lightning
How to sparkle and burn 

The moment passes
Past long eye lashes
When she can’t even breath
Just one right word
To one right chord
Quick, before he leaves 

Little Lightning Bug
Where will you run?
Where will you run to now?
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
You’re the wrong word, anyhow
Lightning flashes and lightning dazzles
But you look timid and nervous and frazzled
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
Where will you run to now? 

Little Lightning Bug
Where do you get your name?
How could you ever
Hope to compare
To the lightning’s fame?
So small and fragile
So sweet and docile
So boringly tame

Darling, you’re nothing
Darling, you’re nothing
Nothing but a bug on the wall
No one would notice
No one would notice
No one would notice your fall 

The moment passes
Past long eye lashes
When she can’t even breath
Just one right word
To one right chord
Quick, before he leaves 

Little Lightning Bug
Where will you run?
Where will you run to now?
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
You’re the wrong word, anyhow
Lightning flashes and lightning dazzles
But you look timid and nervous and frazzled
Keep your mouth shut
Just listen up
Where will you run to now?

Well, Fuck - 03/12/12

So it is that under March snow,

over thick puddles in potholes,
under dripping street signs,
over sticky tiles,
under encroaching gloom
over the first sunny day in just
over a month -
 
so it is in math class
that joking comments on
torn flesh
find ringing laughter
and applause -
 
so it is with veil
of clouds,
of long hair,
of minimal sleep,
of skipped meals,
of dark thoughts -
 
so it is masked
behind vacant eyes,
behind pursed lips,
behind crimson cheeks,
behind monotones,
behind pencils
and papers
and poems -
 
so it is in love,
in giddy feelings crushed
by annoyed realities,
in hopeful flying
proving only falling
without style,
in over affection
peeling back only
cruel intentions,
in selfish
whorish doubt -
 
so it is beside generosity,
next to welcoming,
beside compliment,
holding hands with kindness -
 
so it is only Monday
and the week is off
to such a fantastic start
I think I'll slit my throat
to celebrate.

Debate Guys - 02/18/12

Ladies, how many times in your life
have you opened a sentence with the line
“So, there's this guy . . .”
Well, pardon the cliché reality
of my presumed originality,
but I'd like to flip that phrase to say:
 
So, there's this carbon-based life form,
the product of 4 billion of evolution
compressed into 40 trillion cells,
the way Carl Sagan jammed it into 40 seconds
and flipped my perceptions around,
this boy flips my whole brain around.
 
He's hot like an exothermic reaction,
fly like the numerator in a fraction.
He's got more sex appeal than Richard Feynman,
so in a crowded room, it's not hard to find him.
 
Oh, and he looks damn fine in a suit.
And he's a debate guy, so it's not hard to find him in a suit.
There's something about those debate guys,
spouting statistics like I write rhymes,
with arrogant smirks and pick-up lines,
with confident voices and easily-rolled eyes.
Damn, those debate guys are fine.
 
And this boy, this carbon-based life form,
the product of thousands of years of genetic manipulation
ending in this culmination of human expectation,
is sassy and sexy and arrogant
and I like that.
Some girls don't, saying,
“Ew, get away.”
And I say, “Hey, baby, walk my way.”
 
He's smarter than Jimmy
Cooler than a neutron
Sweeter than glucose
Hotter than a bomb-omb
And on top of everything, he's a great debater.
 
He is everything nerdy little me could ask for,
so I summoned all my courage, and then some more,
and I asked him out, and he said,
“Maybe later.”
 
I broke down all barriers,
brought my heart on an aircraft carrier,
and I asked him out and he said,
“Maybe later.”
 
Because on top of all his admirable features
are also all the twists and detours,
the unavailability,
and the over commitment to everything.
So, maybe later.
 
But I'm finding it hard to accept,
because direct rejection is not what I met.
So I haven't quite given up yet,
believing your heart is still mine to get.
 
See, I'm a non-ohmic device:
a flash of your smile, and my resistance decreases.
Dear, you're like ozone in the troposphere:
when you're near, my respiration ceases.
Guys like you are more rare than Platinum,
so let's Fluorine Uranium Carbon Potassium!
(Periodic table joke. Look it up.)
 
I don't mean to be obsessive, creepy, or alarming,
but when I'm with you, I feel sparks.
And I know I'm strange, but you're so charming,
so together we could be second generation quarks.
 
You're the sunlight to my photosynthesis,
the conclusion to my Extended Essay's thesis.
(IB joke. Don't look that one up. It's terrifying.)
I think about you more than Euler did math.
I sure hope our vectors aren't skew,
so we can cross paths.
 
But I suppose it's not a matter of how you make me feel,
if so we would have sealed this deal.
It's the fact that you don't like me,
and I get it,
I can totally see.
I mean,
I'm like calling pink “anti-green,”
just weird.
But don't you know how explosive we'd be
if you were my anti-Tangereen?
 
So, go out with me.
Because I may be pretty far from perfectly flawless,
but I'm no where near perfectly flawed.
Because this confidence is why public nudity
had to be outlawed.
Because I am the arrogant, crazy girl
who wrote a slam to demand that you go out with her
even though I'm reasonably sure
you'll still say, “No way!”
I'm still here anyway.
Because I am the Alex Dang of poetry,
the Queen of IEs,
the quiet physics geek
waiting to be adorable and sweet,
for no other reason than because I can.
Because I am the warrior princess -
duchess -
maiden?-
 
Because I am the warrior girl
with gray eyes like daggers
and fingers curled,
ready to take on the world
or at least momentary discomfort
if it means the slightest chance at love.
Because I am the warriors girl
with a sword in her heart and a shield on her soul.
The wielder of words like fire
and a voice soft as snow.
Because I am the warrior girl,
strong and brave,
who doesn't care if her heart breaks,
willing to do whatever it takes,
to stay happy enough to continue to be strong and brave.
 
But that doesn't mean it's perfectly okay if you say no,
that I'll be alright, don't worry.
It means stop breaking my heart
before I give up completely.
So I'll ask one last time
before I'm forced to move on with me life:
Can I take you to lunch sometime?