i have a tumblr now because that seems to be where the world is moving to but i don't know how to use it so please don't take me too seriously:
4ntigone.tumblr.com

a diary excerpt circa 2010

You could say that this is a complicated relationship
and that's why I can never say it properly
I stutter

your name, three words
Never smooth

You could say that this is a complicated relationship
Like a complicated math problem
- the kind you do over and over
Coming up with fresh answers every time but
none of them feel right

You don't feel right, but

It's complicated
Like when you try to explain that poetry isn't easy
It isn't just writing words
It is thinking and compromise and digging when you
are too tired to lift the shovel

But no one sees that when you write something like
"The sea is speaking to me in a derogatory tone"

A Poem - La Dispute

The worry, the wonder, the shortness of days,
The replacement for purpose,
The things swept away by
The worry, the wonder, my slightness of frame,
The replacements for feeling,
The casual lay. And
The worst of the wildlife wears clothes and can pray and
The worry, the wonder, for three meals a day.
Only death unimpeded, not slowing it’s pace,
Brings that petty, old worry and wonder away.

Bob Schofield's "Darkish Night"

"One time I dreamed I was part-Batman, part-zipper, floating over a city of liars. I flashed my toothpick fangs at strangers. I beat my purple wings. Turned out I was the biggest liar of them all. And life was good. I kept moving, my head down. No one ever saw my face. One night my zipper caught on the edge of a crescent moon. I felt some unpleasant truth spill out of me. Even at that height I could hear it, that truth, plopping sad and wet against the concrete, the roofs of cars, the domes of a hundred grim umbrellas. I had never felt so vulnerable, so alone. So certain I was going to die right then in the middle of space, just a hovering closet of senseless human mayonnaise."

- Bob Schofield

scenes from a childhood, listed

I remember hating breakfast.

I remember the worn wooden dining table.

I remember when I ate red gummies with a friend, and we pretended to be vampires.

I remember freckles.

I remember thinking that cellophane was like clear construction paper that was harder to cut.

I remember losing to my father in a game of chess and then, after, crying until he let me win.

I remember guilt.

I remember quarters getting warm in my hand and wondering if they were still valid currency.

I remember pushing a red button to make the water park start.

I remember stumbling over words when giving my order to the ice cream truck for the first time, and then blushing, and then ordering something I didn’t even want but was easy to say.

I remember recorder choir.

I remember watching Austin Powers from a bean bag chair in my friend’s basement.

I remember sliding down two flights of carpeted stairs on a mattress stolen from my sister’s room.

I remember learning to use a stapler.

I remember screaming that time when the space heater I had on my wooden dresser burst into flames in the middle of the night,

I remember how the first thing my mother saved when she ran in was the designer Barbie doll,

The one I’d never touched.

I remember ripping up her sky blue dress and throwing her out my window when I thought everyone was asleep.

I remember telling her not to come back.

journal entry

a sunrise gazette on the kitchen table
you sit staring eastward, running
long fingers through garden dark
thoughts, hair,

swamp eyes
not on me

the wind blows diffluent through the open window
rustling past the empty cornhusks of our skin, our hearts
lampooning my earnest reaching

the kind that never makes it past my nerves
to move
my hands

bucket list

he wants to drive circles around the block
he wants to drive fast

(burning pavement until he gets out of breath and the sweat is pooling at our feet)
we lost five and seven pounds respectively

climbing up Everest
-- or at least to the base camp

the dehydrated chicken curry and spaghetti bolognaise
was never meant to nourish
just to dry up our tastebuds
and suck up our hope like water