With Weird and Bite

Barbie lived unloved
in my underwear drawer,
not understanding
that my heart yearned for other
dolls (with weird and bite) like me.


bits on writing and living

I grew up thinking I hated dolls… I was especially suspicious of Barbie’s slightly vacant smile. In fact, I couldn’t stand the doll. But since Fate delights in laughing at her children, someone (no one truly close to me) would always give me a Barbie to unlove for years and years and years…

A few decades later… after I could procure my own dolls, I realized that it wasn’t dolls I didn’t care for. I just needed dollies that spoked to me. Had anyone given me a pissed off unicorn doll, or a slightly dreamy sheep doll, or a smirking doll with button eyes, I would’ve loved dolls as a wee girl.

The same is true about my love for reading and writing poetry. If someone would’ve introduced me to poems that embraced my weird (just the way I like it), poetry and I would’ve been loving each other madly for years and years and years… Then again, who knows, maybe Fate is just the smartest of them all. She understood that a soul should live a little (or a lot) before kissing poetry on the mouth (and playing with dolls that can bite).


linked to Poets United (love), to Holly’s 8th Annual Vampire’s Day Soirée, and to Blogging Around with Rommy (week 5)


Mavis (vampire sheep, by Gina Morley)
Drusilla (vampire dolly, by Groovy Gothic)
Princess Unikitty (from The LEGO Movie)


A Coat Made of Melody

When winter cut my wings, you wove me a coat made of melody. Your notes flew through cities and forests, shaking shadows, wrapping gentle strings around bare bones.

“Your touch is balsam brewed out of knowing,” I said, wishing I could sing my best songs through broken teeth.

When winter slowed the dance of my tongue, you didn’t try singing for me. You soothed the chill with music, kissed my lips and fingers better, warmed the red in my marrow, until I could bleed my own words.


the wee notes…
– these days, I do everything a bit slower. Tasks I used to complete in a few minutes can take hours… even days, if my flesh and bones refuse to cooperate. When I am at my slowest (but stubbornly insisting in taking care of my own things), I admire my Piano Man the most. Because few medicines are as powerful as knowing that those you love are willing to help you keep your Self as yours as your current circumstances allow.
– linked to Sunday’s Whirligig, The Sunday Muse, The Sunday Whirl, and to the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads.