The Good Stuff
I have a big gallery. If you're going to read anything from me, make it something from this box.
SuperimposeHe doesn't look like a gymnast. He's all button down shirts and frazzled grey hair framing wire spectacles, a picture perfect professorial archetype down to the very tips of his frayed shoelaces. But he was a gymnast once, or so he tells us, and I believe him because he smiles like he knows something while he's chatting before class.
Tangential AsymptotesI think about falling in math class.
Types of IntimacyHe told me he sleeps in a t-shirt –
SurrogateI stopped using his full title
He doesn't write poetry anymore.He doesn’t write poetry anymore,
Stories of feelings with no names - Revision i.
Autumn was my first love.October, I follow you -
Old SoulsDoc says I’m an old
Turn my words against me.I want my words to take
Getting Started in the Lit Community
dA making for feel small? Need help finding your writing peeps? Start right here, baby.
I'd like to be able to have enough points to make donations to contests, help people extend their Premiumships - I love being helpful
All You need to know about DD's
Suggest one today!
DailyLitRecognition is a literature feature group that needs YOUR suggestions to function - know some great lit that doesn't have enough love? Send it to one of our admins!
Using HTML on dA
On of the most helpful resources I've found. I refer back to it frequently
Using Font on dA
Because I'm a sucker for formatting
An alternate account dedicated to playing literature games! Come join in the fun!
News Articles I've Written
The Visual Novel: Video Games as a Literary MediumWhat is it?
Foreign Words the English Language NeedsOh hello. I’m finally getting around to making this news article that I said I might do, like, a month ago. Sorry, I’m not used to writing news articles. Bear with me.
Untitled is just a synonym for lazy.Well, the color poem form I introduced to dA was a rousing success, but interest of late seems to have died down. So I'm back with a new form for you all, something exciting and new, something different, something that I will probably make into a contest once I get some points in the bank. You ready?
Managing Your Inbox: Some Tips on StreamliningI'm not really an organized person. Yeah, sure, I like to TRY to be one, but most of my attempts to clean house don't stick. The one exception, however, is in my online life. I keep everything to do with the computer tabbed and organized and that includes my dA life.
Click to see what I'm reading! I love recommendations and chatting about books I should start a book club sometime.
I make bookmarks for pretty much anyone who asks. Just give that flourish a click, and you'll find instructions on how to request your own!
Meme: Alternate SelfiesI've been bored around dA lately, so I decided to start a meme
Holographic ResonanceAll things will be in everything;
Kafka's Joke Book
Cooking a StoryToday I decided to make roasted carrot soup, which got me thinking that writing and cooking are particularly ripe for comparison. At first glance, both seem easy. Buy these ingredients and prepare them, and voila, dinner. Come up with a plot, write it out, and voila, novel. Both cooking and writing seem like tasks than can be planned and executed through clarity of thinking, fidelity of execution, and sheer force of will. Maybe this apparent simplicity is why everyone you meet on an airplane is writing a book. (Why is it always people on airplanes? Maybe that’s the only place I talk to strangers.) Of course the reality is that there is a fair bit of magic to both good cooking and good writing.
Types of IntimacyHe told me he sleeps in a t-shirt –
and only a t-shirt. The image
won’t leave my head; this body,
so familiar to me, yet barricaded
by layers of fabric – I have never seen
the joints of his elbows, the slope
of his spine, the terrain of his
stomach – but I have felt their presence
through wool and cotton, known
their warmth in brief moments
of contact. And there’s a strange
intrigue to modesty, knowing his
psychology but not his physique.
I have found strength in his words
and wisdom in his hands; I have plunged
these depths past fondness and into
familiarity and found, here, in the dark
of his ocean, that I can see better
than ever before.
Summer Poemsummer pulls
of her hair
with a blossomed
tonight the moon
has a fingernail's
green teapouring the green tea
into a perfect calm brim;
grass to amber gold
Michael in Spanishi finally figured it out: you remind me of
those nineties poets in the book on my dresser.
they were all so pissed-off at everything--
racism and war. politics. sexism, genocide and
more than anything,
themselves. they tore out their hearts
and said, dirty nails digging crescents in ventricles
until the surface of the muscle looked like a lost moon
(which explains the brain's superiority): look at this, you fucking cunt.
this is the real war here. flesh and fantasy are tearing each other to shreads
and you think it matters which hood ornament gleams
on the governmental car? fuck all of you, and yes
you too. especially you.
their blood still seeps from cuts left by grunge rockers
in the grooves of forgotten stages, brick coffee houses
and an answering machine.
i learned my lesson from the nineties poets,
that the truth is we're all pussies flinching from our own power
and shadows, hoping smoke will someday tell the truth
or maybe cancer will.
and i learn my lesson again from you: that t
twenty-five. supernovas don't visit very often; I'm
sure they exist elsewhere -- they just
don't want to be trapped in one eerily
desolate place within the universe that
they tell us that our Milky Way will
collide one day. "it'll be the end of
humanity, but don't worry, it'll only
be in four billion years. plenty of time
to live". I feel the need to specify
that I've lived here long enough, and
humanity will be gone long before
the Earth is.
sometimes, I gaze up to the ceiling of
violets and hues of indigo and I wonder
what it will be like in a few thousand
years. will our stars still exist? or do they
fizzle out the same way us humans do?
no. that's not true. they won't just coalesce
with the rest of the universe. they'll be
remembered within the hearts of mapmakers
and sailors. the truest Jack Sparrows the
I'd like to think of myself as a
c n e
Insteadoh gods, asphalt between
your toes and graffiti tattoos like
body art was a siren and you were screamin' for help
with fluorescent scrawls,
and you do your make-up
like a world war survivor
and you smile
like a nuclear bomb's aftermath but
your eyes are a mess of
drying rivers and sediment fish and
oh you've just wanted to be loved and beautiful
but that didn't work the way it should've
so now you go fishing and
skin tuna against your own shredded thighs with
a greasy butter knife, and you
feed the fish to your cats
and stick the scales to your skin
because you couldn't be anyone's princess
so now you want to be
to love a mockingbirdi cannot stand the gaps of silence,
comma is the antecedent of _____1
apostrophe is the downstairs comma
if you're trapped in parallels
please don't forget about me
remember me in twenty
years at your engineering
company holding pictures
of your model wife and
remember what i said i'd
give you, the flames in
the factory reaching higher
than you got at thirteen
without me even though you
promised me you'd never
now i can't remember why
i called you god
i hope in five years you see me