Thursday, September 17, 2009

Map Poem by Robin

I was driving head first
Splashing in Villa Rica
When you caught me in your arms
Traveling up through Vester and Point Peter
Through the Appalachians to my Walnut Grove
You traveled along the 83
And landed somewhere between Roswell and Forest Park
You set up camp in Youth
Lingering on route 85
Sliding softly through the russet folds of Bethlehem
You clung tightly to Atlanta
The Only star in the sky
Your fingertips screaming as you dug through Washington
Yoking together two halves of one rocky mountain
You would spend the winter months
Swimming along the tips of Lincoln
Blue blue as the soft Braswell falls.
Your eyes still stinging
Drops of saltwater
A river, an ocean
The last traces of Madres

Come with me, sir, and we can camp
Hide along the coast
Find our palms in Atlanta
With summer’s sweet Zinnia’s behind Billarn

-Robin S.

Haiku by Robin

A summer apple
Round and full dripping sweet juice
Snap, fall, tumble. Rest.

River in a river
Lilypad meanders
Whooshing sweetly by

Swirl, swirl, stop
Lazy circles as it falls
Crunch underneath

Sunday afternoon
Cherry trees and lemonade
Sour, tart, stolen kiss

Eye lashes and lips
Shaved pits and period pants
A woman’s burden

I can’t hear you
Mr. Little Red Dot
I told you to stop stalking me

Pain as a color
Goddess Pose and tampax pearl
Jam out to Bob Dylan

-Robin S.

Poem split by Isabella S.

Left side:

Linda Blair is being
Interviewd on television.
The movie scene….
And after start in a
Pornography double take.
It was a boy mystery:
I watch her eagerly,
She’s on the bed,
The mother walks in appalled.
Little creep is on the crucifix
Over her head…
In between her and Linda agaon.
I didn’t know
And I think at that age,
I was just around
For the douche and the blow job.
What is it, right?
She was eleven years
Old in panic,
Up to find you coated in blood
I don’t know…
I just remember eight years later…
I watch her face stunned.
You know who does it?
Me in my sleep.
I wait shifting,
Two women rubbing together,
The car in the Safehouse parking lot
Moving up and down.

The Right Side:

I finally understand, Watch the Exorcist.
I flip the channels
I catch the lines:
“most controversial”
that proposals and I give.
Those old Hardies
Would read to me in Linda Blair’s pants.
And the scene cuts,
The hideous bed
Wielding before plunging in legs.
The scene cuts
And Blair speaks at what masturbation was.
Niether did I know
A word that floated days….
Words like: “masturbion”
And enquires, “you know right?”
It’s just a word to me
Linda Blair was eleven when
She filmed that scene.
When I went up
One morning, very unexpected,
My hand and fingers…

I just woke up where it came from.
Your expression mom,
You can see it again on
The interview, the mother in horror.

Do Linda Blair on television.

And the woman on the third floor
In her stockings at the YMCA.
And the girls in the parking lot
In the back seat.
Oh the horror.

-Isabella S.

Map Poem by Isabella S.

I hated Tucson.
It never curled right.
I might as well just cut I 10 to I 19
I don’t care if Tombstone, Bisbee or Douglas
Ever grew back, and I don’t know why
My family made such a bitch about the suggested.
The Gulf of California was always
well behaved. It teased right and
didn’tfriz. It would be a shame to cut off those flirtarious Gulfs
I just have to cut them too.

Sierra San Pedro Martir
Was determined when I
Walked into the tattoo shop.
I kept the Sonora Valley
As blank as possible,
Hoping the Sonoytas
And Punta Prietas wouldn’t
Turn on me and show my nerves
As I confronted the tattoo artist.
He eyed me from Sonora to Tamaulipas
And asked me to take a seat on the bench.
I lay down and lifted my skirt,
Zacatecas and Monterrey were
Trying not to twitch
As we warmed up the machine, needle buzzing.
At the first touch of the needle
On Juan Aldoma the Gulf of Mexico
Clenched and curled,
Trying to keep the rest of Mexico still

~Isabella S.

Poems by Sam

The map of my hand
You never needed to know.

The problem usually starts around Lake Manon
And spreads down I-95 to Florence and Sumbter
It even gets up to Columba

And the battle
Waged at the Union,
Left an ever lasting scar.

-Sam H.

Map Poem by Miki

One time you made the Noatak
Run down my Schwatha Mountains
Eyes of Ambler
When you told me Alberta was waiting for you
On the other side of the border
Was my crooked creek too crooked?
I felt like Juneau
With the disappointment, rage, and lack of surprise.
My Kuskokwim aching with the Red Devil
I Anviked you in the Rocky Mountains.
You could hire said something
Before your Iditarod hit my Continental Divide.


Poems by Chandler M.


Flowers slowly emerge
Open and close like clockwork
Their cycle begins.

Loose jeans and chocolate
Constant checks at your behind
Four more days to go.

~Chandler M.

Map Poems Summer Workshop

An ever endless amount of sympathy
Whether you be 15 or 50
You send your heart out
To your white brain, and black sisters
Knowing the cramps and exhaustion they’ll enudure
All you can offer is a hug or a kind hand
On their shoulder.

~Chandler M.

Period Haikus by Isabella S.

You should invest
in black underwear. Don’t get
up till everyone leaves.

Smile while you hurt
And be sure to let him know
You need new Lysol.

How self assured
With your wad of money
And wad of cotton.

Douche powder and small
Waists equal success.
Be sure to smile.

by Isabella S.