(w)eight.

5.12.08

i wonder who will read these after they've killed me?

will they think to themselves,
"without question,
she was c
razy."

or will they find these leather bound interwebbed books
cardboard attic wrapped in something so blackened in secret
so infinite in their infidelity
not even anne frank could have told you
she told you so

they will find us
no matter how thick the floorboards are

in who's ear do you whisper your revolutions to
when every spiral staircase eardrum
is wiretapped to the sound of your pulse

you're a ticking timebomb kid
quit learning so much

quit scanning the skys for signs of extraterrestrials
running over pedestrians
that shadow that follows you when you've forgotten to close the door of your closet completely
isn't who he says he is

read my forewords carefully
my mania forwards
then insomniac back for their prophetic urgency

dear mr. supercomputer,
does your heart beat like mine does?
what does the internet smell like?
does it rain there?

how can you speak to something without
a set of teeth to break?

how do you avoid erasing truth
if everything you've ever left behind you
was in outlined in chalk?

quit regretting the things you have said
backspaces don't exist in nature

yes, the storm is coming
we can all see the way the wind breaks our windows
while we sleep

we'd just rather be watching television

but who can blame us for wanting a sweatshirt to feel home in?
a pullout couch and a rainstorm
to make us feel young again

i don't think i can honestly say what i believe in anymore,
but could you blame me?

how can i pray to a god that
keeps widening the wrinkles
in the laugh lines
of my mother?

how can i make my grandmother cry?

and yes,
"laughing and crying are alot alike"
she said.
two refrigerator magnets we swallow
only to reconnect in our bellies
whenever we need reminding
what it feels like
to be human

to have something heavy and metal sit in your gut
like a secret
to have something
try to kill you while you sleep
with its weight

the king of hearts is the only king in the deck without a mustache
love young.

tell me where the clay colored rocks sleep

and when the bough breaks
we'll make sailboats from our bones
set fire to our skin
and burn our way home





anyone have anything spilling from their heads yet?
-alyssa

local slams

We just had our first of the quarter - solid turn out - new faces on the mic - and new poems from myself and bryan from the UCSC team

a kid who just started reading this year got 3rd for the first time

had the line "baby, you're like caffeine, you keep me up all night" 

and the line "when the sphinx asks me a riddle, I'll give her a nose"

how are all of your local slams/open mics/events going?

unlocking a quark

so i guess this is my attempt at trying to connect us all with the poetry that made us a little dizzy last week.

is anyone else's head still spinning?

right now i'm working on developing film and getting video up of the competition/making a film of outtakes. they will be up here soon enough.

feel free to post any poetry/photographs/film/thoughts on quantum mechanics and the plight of human existence.

i say we all meet halfway this summer.
or you guys can come to new paltz
there is tons of floor space and plenty of hippies to go around

tell me something good, my poetic bandits

-alyssa