New Poems: Waka written on Facebook walls (5-7-5-7-7)

to gabriella:


you spill the contents
of my poems until there are
none left to decode:
tell me, what do i mean and
how shall i say it, this time?


to k:

Here and There

Come Monday, church hats
no longer signal your faith,
but rather, your style.
Let us wear them one by one,
and drink champagne in Chelsea.


to joey:


how can i forget
the look of you, wearing just
suspenders, pants held
up by elastic, taking
pictures in the sculpture park.


to sonnet:

to hold

went to atlanta
in my dreams, drenched in olive
and dark curls, who fooled
me into seeing what was
never really there--?

(the above poem is a tsuru, which as some of you may remember, is a form sonnet and i invented in paris. it has the same structure as a traditional waka, 5-7-5-7-7, but as an homage to the waka's roots in the haiku, the final line is both 5 and 7 syllables, taking the final two from the title.)

Draft 2 (Thomas Assignment #1)


History: This is exact as I get.
So perfectly put
I don't know
the question. Color-

coded maps line walls,
pastel puzzle pieces:
without topography
without division,
a continent of one color.

How fucked up I am:

Mistaken all the goddamn time.
in exactitude. Formal
language and page numbers.

Can't cry correctly.
Can't penetrate cellophane
bound round my brain

to reach others,
trying to tie knots.