Slits for eyes and thin spikes for hair. We’ve only spoken once, but he has a way of looking at me. I’m not quite sure how to put it. He takes Japanese classes and he’s taking out a Japanese girl, and I wonder which came first. But what I’m wondering more is why he looks at me with those slits for eyes and thin spikes for hair, as if we were spies and we both knew something the other one did know…and something the other one didn’t.
This sweet, gushing taste of mandarin:
A bright field full of orange flowers.
“Going to make a word collection. You know, like hipsters collect obscure album art or children collect strange stones, I will collect words. I will put them in my pocket and at any possible moment reveal my treasure to the world.
My first word is Abide.
It’s one of the loveliest, softest, strongest words. It keeps going on – firm and golden and never ending as a wedding ring, tender and protective as a shallow, immovable as a fortress in the midst of a battle, or a cave in the onslaught of a raging storm. ” – From In Case of Books
“The library is a boy I have a crush on him. I try to never too forward, though I adore him. So, I tell you a secret, a funny secret: I know neither Dewey nor his decimals. I never learned. Why? Because I’m an absolute schoolgirl when it comes to this crush and I soak up every moment of the mystery of love. Mapless, I go exploring, and how I feel like a pioneer, how I feel like a conqueror! Today (I can’t help leaning into tell you this delight) I found his poetry. And it’s hidden in such a lovely way – there in the back right corner. Dickinson and cummings and Frost and Eliot – oh – I’m tingling from the sensation of words breaking out of their lines, words in revolution of thought and meaning and juxtaposition. Anthologies send a cool rush all over me. Complete Works awe me as mountains do. Then, in accord with sweet poetry’s fine nature of surprise I find a book like nothing I’ve ever read before – Deaf American Poetry. It eclipses any young man’s roses. No wonder I’m smitten.” – From In Case of Books
The children come to play on the campus on Saturday mornings, even in October. Even in this chill. But what is the chill to them? They’re warmed by motion, by laughter, by friendship. They move, not oblivious to the wind, but in it, with it, against it, through it. They play with their environment as much as they play with each other. And some of them wear shorts cause their so warm from it all, even in October.
When they watch me dance, I transform. I am more than a slicer of apples and a nurse to sore knees; I am beauty. I am essence. Their eyes widen. They watch in wonder. I am not fooled: I am no prima ballerina. But in ronde de jambe and demi plie, I am beauty. This is more than a kitchen. There is light splitting into rainbows. I see it through their eyes. Movement’s infused in color, meaning, light. I am not fooled. They watch me transform because I dance.