Monthly Archives: December 2011

Falling into Sleep

There are some days left of 2011. I’m still vegan and sober and blahbadey blahbadey blah I’m not the best vegan I’ve ever met, but Lord knows I’ve tried. Tofu cream cheese tastes like spackle. There I’ve said it. He … Continue reading

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Taconic at Night

shhh the rain the carousel and flushed faces of men in suits and women laughing Samson sits at the sliding glass door watching puddles break lit by white lights wrapped around our old fence We are tourists in our own … Continue reading

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Sunday Evening

Something about slow cooking; onions first, chicken broth, tiny meatballs for the kids. Israeli couscous, basil, garlic, fresh parsely, chives, carrots, celery. Everything in the pot. Three Balthazar baguettes, the first sliced with plastic butter knife. The last two ripped … Continue reading

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Sunday Morning

Table pushed against heating pipe between white wall and brick. Caitie’s crystal platter smeared with cream cheese and Red Velvet remnants. Goat cheese log nearly gone, Gouda plastic rind next to red wine cork on bread plate. Spilled whiskey smell … Continue reading

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Tonight in Long Island!

Come for the food, the poetry, or just because it’s Long Island. I’m featuring with the brilliant Deborah Hauser from 7-10 and would love to see you there.

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Soho

I’m fighting sickness with Starbucks. Soy chai tea misto in Soho before Diana’s show. She told me she painted my portrait and would I come see her work? The D train to Broadway Lafayette got crowded. No one’s hips liked … Continue reading

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Road Dreams

Go to sleep sweet one. Forget the road paint and poetry for now. Colours are turning into shapes. Dream of pink, the color that drips down the walls of the hall you will be seen in. You will be seen. … Continue reading

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Wake Up

It started with Bach. Then I pressed snooze, throat still slick with sick. Ten minutes later the alarm played through me again. My mother is a clock inside me. Look at the books lining our brick walls until my eyes … Continue reading

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Tuesday Again

I close my eyes, drop soba noodles into boiling water. The sky in Harlem is steam rolling over brick. water unzips my jacket. A repeating refrain It needs a fine edit. I watch him bite his lip, look down to … Continue reading

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The Last Day

It is December 1, 2011. I’m 23 years old, living in an all women’s commune in the East Village, working as a waitress in Union Square, a journalist for World New York, and a poet. New York is home. I’m … Continue reading

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