Is Gulliver so large and wild,
Or slipping deceit up?
A small and artful, shifting child
On isles he found himself.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Salta
Green-dusted, meandering hills that welcome.
Pink crossed cathedrals packed with hymns,
with earthly kneelers, so sincere.
My lungs open, chest rises, eyes grin.
Pink crossed cathedrals packed with hymns
and dark uniform-clad children.
My lungs open, chest rises, eyes grin
as hot light hits the siesta-time square.
Dark uniform-clad children
with school bags, they play futbol in sandals,
as hot light hits the siesta-time square.
Jesus hunkers down from the hillside.
With school bags, they play futbol in sandals
despite crowded streets and vendors.
Jesus hunkers down from the hillside
at fat abuelas with coca, that chew, and spit, and smile.
Despite crowded streets and vendors
girls in orange panchos sneak by
fat abuelas with coca, that chew, and spit, and smile,
to reach the campo limits.
Girls in orange panchos sneak by
to their boys with horses and guitars
to reach the campo limits,
green-dusted, meandering hills that welcome.
Pink crossed cathedrals packed with hymns,
with earthly kneelers, so sincere.
My lungs open, chest rises, eyes grin.
Pink crossed cathedrals packed with hymns
and dark uniform-clad children.
My lungs open, chest rises, eyes grin
as hot light hits the siesta-time square.
Dark uniform-clad children
with school bags, they play futbol in sandals,
as hot light hits the siesta-time square.
Jesus hunkers down from the hillside.
With school bags, they play futbol in sandals
despite crowded streets and vendors.
Jesus hunkers down from the hillside
at fat abuelas with coca, that chew, and spit, and smile.
Despite crowded streets and vendors
girls in orange panchos sneak by
fat abuelas with coca, that chew, and spit, and smile,
to reach the campo limits.
Girls in orange panchos sneak by
to their boys with horses and guitars
to reach the campo limits,
green-dusted, meandering hills that welcome.
Smiling River
We saw a violent river, from the valley rim.
You nearly lost your grip on the anxious scramble down.
We bathed in the frothing mouth and came out clean,
the dirt under our fingernails now gallops down the stream.
You nearly lost your grip on the anxious scramble down!
Fresh-cleaned limbs lack gripping power and you miss it,
the dirt under our fingernails now gallops down the stream.
It mingles with more foreign dirts in distant estuaries.
Fresh-cleaned limbs lack gripping power and you miss it,
The sharp-toothed current gnashing promised no ablution. While
it mingles with more foreign dirts in distant estuaries,
Still smiling, we bared our teeth right back at the rocks
The sharp-toothed current gnashing promised no ablution yet
we bathed in the frothing mouth and came out clean.
Still smiling, we bared our teeth right back at the rocks.
We saw a violent river, from the valley rim.
You nearly lost your grip on the anxious scramble down.
We bathed in the frothing mouth and came out clean,
the dirt under our fingernails now gallops down the stream.
You nearly lost your grip on the anxious scramble down!
Fresh-cleaned limbs lack gripping power and you miss it,
the dirt under our fingernails now gallops down the stream.
It mingles with more foreign dirts in distant estuaries.
Fresh-cleaned limbs lack gripping power and you miss it,
The sharp-toothed current gnashing promised no ablution. While
it mingles with more foreign dirts in distant estuaries,
Still smiling, we bared our teeth right back at the rocks
The sharp-toothed current gnashing promised no ablution yet
we bathed in the frothing mouth and came out clean.
Still smiling, we bared our teeth right back at the rocks.
We saw a violent river, from the valley rim.
Mr. Teach
Blackbeard the infamous dispatched
his foes with undue glee.
The shape of his flag flew low, just
a hair above the sea.
his foes with undue glee.
The shape of his flag flew low, just
a hair above the sea.
Rinds in the Loam
A party sits and eats in pungent dirt and leaves and grass,
Now they begin to drink from hollowed rinds found in the loam.
I meet a wooden man with an Easter Island Face,
He carves a deep and hollow tune I cannot erase.
She walks on thin glass heels through crevices in granite,
Hollow laughter rings just behind, shrieking from stone to stone.
A freshly minted mime shines a Windex-clear window.
His hollow motions haunt me as my grinding teeth groan.
A blacksmith pounds his anvil at an olde-timey faire,
His hammer strikes are hollow; he does not pound for fares.
The old king feels arthritic while he waits for Ragnorak,
His sword hangs at his side useless it is forged from hollow bone.
A wizard plays at solitaire in the halls of Xanadu,
This sage does not feel pride though, for every hand he knew.
Now they begin to drink from hollowed rinds found in the loam.
I meet a wooden man with an Easter Island Face,
He carves a deep and hollow tune I cannot erase.
She walks on thin glass heels through crevices in granite,
Hollow laughter rings just behind, shrieking from stone to stone.
A freshly minted mime shines a Windex-clear window.
His hollow motions haunt me as my grinding teeth groan.
A blacksmith pounds his anvil at an olde-timey faire,
His hammer strikes are hollow; he does not pound for fares.
The old king feels arthritic while he waits for Ragnorak,
His sword hangs at his side useless it is forged from hollow bone.
A wizard plays at solitaire in the halls of Xanadu,
This sage does not feel pride though, for every hand he knew.
Pick and Choose Response #1: Jeffery McDaniel Endarkenment
A play off McDaniel’s “Heavy Breather Zoo” (10):
Hippie Zoo
By Christina Arganda
Whatever happened to the hippie?
capitalist consumerism- Orange County, yuppy greed,
apathy, glass fences, substance control laws-
has rendered her free spirit obsolete. Who
will listen to her cause now? She is the floppy disk
of rebels. She tried leading a protest march
through Whittier College campus,
but only four people joined in,
which was a damn near heart breaking blow.
Should we go to Venice Beach or Berkley-
gather up the last few still out there, smoking
joints and painting banners in the wild,
before they go extinct, place them
in a special zoo, in eco-friendly cage systems, complete
with 2nd or 3rd hand furnishings- glass pipes, rally
signs, hemp blankets, Doors records and music
from “Hair,”- to recreate what their used to?
Perhaps a plaque that reads: Here
sits the hippie. She used to carry signs down
Pennsylvania Avenue and though flip-flops at
corrupt politicians and “The Man.”She lived for that
first rush of the crowd, the ground shaking cheer
that gave Nixon and congress headaches and her chills.
Kiss the mug and smile like you mean it
Ghazal By Christina Arganda
If I could tell you all the shadow secrets that I am
I promise, you still would never know.
BBQ Buddha drinks and
Never placid, candy splintered shattered soul.
Last year I spent my whole spring break
Never less than eyelash deep in snow.
There are seven serpents that make the color of my eyes
They cry but will never again see the light.
Petal wet and trembling flesh
Bare breath in red that never reaches truth.
I have seven self given injuries all the blood has gone,
Battle scar piercing I can never live without.
For the truth is, I am the end of star light
A neverland dream delusion Donut dancer.
Paint your path
Quatrain By Christina Arganda
I dwell within the realm of pure obscurity.
I search for truth and maybe magic but find no purity.
My mind is a Jackson Pollak wet dream,
Where only questions drip as splatters darkly gleam.
My Tiny is a daisy, but mighty is her rowr
Pantom by Christina Arganda
Aqua skies melt derision and deference in her wide wet eyes
She is framed by canary diamond silk streaks and sheets
A hollow cloud withers in her trembling hands and dies
All of this is hidden by Maybell masks for everyone she meets.
She is framed by canary diamond silk streaks and sheets
As he chips away the last shreds of innocence of eighteen
All of this is hidden by Maybell masks for everyone she meets
The tenderness he seems to give is really only mean.
As he chips away the last shreds of innocence of eighteen
She turns to face the darkness and declare battle deep within
The tenderness he seems to give is really only mean
The time has come to run away from eighteen years of sin.
She turns to face the darkness and declare battle deep within
The past no longer matters as she must cut a whole new path
The time has come to run away from eighteen years of sin
To embrace the truth of her now the word will know her wrath.
The past no longer matters as she must cut a whole new path
A hollow cloud withers in her trembling hands and dies
To embrace the truth of her now the word will know her wrath
Aqua skies melt derision and deference in her wide wet eyes.
A play off McDaniel’s “Heavy Breather Zoo” (10):
Hippie Zoo
By Christina Arganda
Whatever happened to the hippie?
capitalist consumerism- Orange County, yuppy greed,
apathy, glass fences, substance control laws-
has rendered her free spirit obsolete. Who
will listen to her cause now? She is the floppy disk
of rebels. She tried leading a protest march
through Whittier College campus,
but only four people joined in,
which was a damn near heart breaking blow.
Should we go to Venice Beach or Berkley-
gather up the last few still out there, smoking
joints and painting banners in the wild,
before they go extinct, place them
in a special zoo, in eco-friendly cage systems, complete
with 2nd or 3rd hand furnishings- glass pipes, rally
signs, hemp blankets, Doors records and music
from “Hair,”- to recreate what their used to?
Perhaps a plaque that reads: Here
sits the hippie. She used to carry signs down
Pennsylvania Avenue and though flip-flops at
corrupt politicians and “The Man.”She lived for that
first rush of the crowd, the ground shaking cheer
that gave Nixon and congress headaches and her chills.
Kiss the mug and smile like you mean it
Ghazal By Christina Arganda
If I could tell you all the shadow secrets that I am
I promise, you still would never know.
BBQ Buddha drinks and
Never placid, candy splintered shattered soul.
Last year I spent my whole spring break
Never less than eyelash deep in snow.
There are seven serpents that make the color of my eyes
They cry but will never again see the light.
Petal wet and trembling flesh
Bare breath in red that never reaches truth.
I have seven self given injuries all the blood has gone,
Battle scar piercing I can never live without.
For the truth is, I am the end of star light
A neverland dream delusion Donut dancer.
Paint your path
Quatrain By Christina Arganda
I dwell within the realm of pure obscurity.
I search for truth and maybe magic but find no purity.
My mind is a Jackson Pollak wet dream,
Where only questions drip as splatters darkly gleam.
My Tiny is a daisy, but mighty is her rowr
Pantom by Christina Arganda
Aqua skies melt derision and deference in her wide wet eyes
She is framed by canary diamond silk streaks and sheets
A hollow cloud withers in her trembling hands and dies
All of this is hidden by Maybell masks for everyone she meets.
She is framed by canary diamond silk streaks and sheets
As he chips away the last shreds of innocence of eighteen
All of this is hidden by Maybell masks for everyone she meets
The tenderness he seems to give is really only mean.
As he chips away the last shreds of innocence of eighteen
She turns to face the darkness and declare battle deep within
The tenderness he seems to give is really only mean
The time has come to run away from eighteen years of sin.
She turns to face the darkness and declare battle deep within
The past no longer matters as she must cut a whole new path
The time has come to run away from eighteen years of sin
To embrace the truth of her now the word will know her wrath.
The past no longer matters as she must cut a whole new path
A hollow cloud withers in her trembling hands and dies
To embrace the truth of her now the word will know her wrath
Aqua skies melt derision and deference in her wide wet eyes.
Wednesday, February 25, 2009
A Valentine’s day to do list:
Number 1: Embody, recreate and reminisce on any love moment together.
For us, an Indian day; Salwar and bellbottoms, cycling to Indian fast food.
Number 2: Go to the movies and bounce from one to the other until bored.
For us, start at two o’clock, then blissful look and hot kiss in dark theater.
Number 3: Share with the bed and with the sheets a bottle of wine or two.
For us, a cheap bottle from Athina, sweet pink garter belt, brandied lips speak.
Number 4 impromptu: Paint with your saturated mind the naked body of your love.
For us, easel and canvas at hand, many echoes of laughter, subtle affection.
Number 5: Finally, a dreamy day encapsulated, two paintings forming one body.
For us, we reach, not far, for soft colored limbs, and proverbial wholeness.
For us, an Indian day; Salwar and bellbottoms, cycling to Indian fast food.
Number 2: Go to the movies and bounce from one to the other until bored.
For us, start at two o’clock, then blissful look and hot kiss in dark theater.
Number 3: Share with the bed and with the sheets a bottle of wine or two.
For us, a cheap bottle from Athina, sweet pink garter belt, brandied lips speak.
Number 4 impromptu: Paint with your saturated mind the naked body of your love.
For us, easel and canvas at hand, many echoes of laughter, subtle affection.
Number 5: Finally, a dreamy day encapsulated, two paintings forming one body.
For us, we reach, not far, for soft colored limbs, and proverbial wholeness.
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