The Smooth Rock

The smooth rock

                 is dented

white powder, cracked surface.

I smashed it

The smooth rock

The jolting wave of


The smooth rock

is sweet

I am not sweet

you are not



– the inside –


The smooth rock

isn’t smooth



Somatic Poem Experience

This poem is a response to a somatic prompt a fellow student offered to me as part of our Language and Thinking course at Bard College. The prompt was along the lines of: Observe five people in the course of a day who have similar body parts as you do and contemplate into which categories these similarities place you.

Another added complication to the piece was that I was required to weave in lines from page 7 of Judith Butler’s book Undoing Gender.  

I was more than pleasantly surprised by the product. Enjoy.

Five meat sacks

skin only stitches together


of social support

beautiful; I think

penises: awkward

it turns out that changing. . .


changing. . .


changing. . .


is a prerequisite for self determination

not too tall, not too short

the body maintains


the body maintains


five meat sacks

bound up with social critique

support. . .


support. . .


conversely sacks

conversely meat

self is demented

determination indeed.



Butler, Judith. Undoing Gender. New York: Routledge, 2004. Print.

It Should Rain Today

It should rain today

I can already tell

Its only 6:20 AM

Blinks the red



Everyone is fucking Sad

I am sad

Pissing into the toilet bowl

It should rain today

The sky must piss

As I have pissed

I am pissing

I am crying

I am pissing

I am alone

The sky is blue

it should rain today

the sky is blue

I am alone

I am pissing

the sky is always dry

I am always pissing

It should rain today

The End of Study Hall

Dark-black, poised lashes stand like burnt forests

Surrounding white whirlpools

“Where do you go?” I ask the current

The waters beckon me.

I follow until we reach the island

at the bottom of the sea.

Light greens and browns swirl. Startling.

Anchoring me to this place.

The world shakes. At once:

force propels the ground,

the charred trees plunge together,


You look away

I check my watch

No time to chat.

I’m running late . . .

Saying Hello

Our greeting is that of a brisk morning:

Crisp palm to palm impact, a brief embrace,

Deep laughter that shatters the stillness of night,

Hopeful eyes sparkle like dew bubbles clinging to grass stems,

And your smile glows the inverted crescent of the rising sun