<body><script type="text/javascript"> function setAttributeOnload(object, attribute, val) { if(window.addEventListener) { window.addEventListener('load', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }, false); } else { window.attachEvent('onload', function(){ object[attribute] = val; }); } } </script> <div id="navbar-iframe-container"></div> <script type="text/javascript" src="https://apis.google.com/js/platform.js"></script> <script type="text/javascript"> gapi.load("gapi.iframes:gapi.iframes.style.bubble", function() { if (gapi.iframes && gapi.iframes.getContext) { gapi.iframes.getContext().openChild({ url: 'https://www.blogger.com/navbar/10494327?origin\x3dhttp://intriguingpoems.blogspot.com', where: document.getElementById("navbar-iframe-container"), id: "navbar-iframe" }); } }); </script>

Why I Am Not A Painter

A l l C o n t e n t ©2005-2021 E m i l i e H a n s o n e-mail twitter Minneapolis, MN links & archives

a pile of mostly raw and probably bad poetry

            on the internet
            in the hopes of creating something better

            This blog is not CLEAN and is not meant to be.
            Useful critique appreciated, i.e. specific comments and suggestions.

            You need not identify yourself unless you want to;
            comments will be judged on value, not the source. (Although knowing the source can be useful.)
            Unsupported heckling OR praise are not appreciated.

            Also, I vaguely apologize if you're my friend and you see yourself or others we know here.
            I am aware that that can be unsettling
            but that's the risk you run being friends with a writer. Also,
            maybe you're just being paranoid. Also,
            there is never a clear picture of reality

revision: relationships, or untitled 3 beginning "you broke your hand"

you broke your hand playing with a slinky
on a staircase. i fetched the pail

of water for your mother
in labor, stepped over your small crying

form. the hot metal
scorched my thigh, a purple pain

imprinted there. you're an adult:
kiss all these injuries

like a good doctor. cough. now
cough again. the baby won't live

for long. i have to let you know
these games are timeless: even if your plastic

glows in the dark while my sharp
metal keeps its kinks, entanglement

is inevitable. the stairs will always be
dangerous, and there will always be stairs.

Labels: you broke your hand

posted by Emilie # 6:32 PM

Comments: Post a Comment

<< Home

Archives

January 2005 February 2005 March 2005 August 2005 December 2005 January 2006 March 2006 April 2006 May 2006 July 2006 August 2006 October 2006 November 2006 December 2006 January 2007 February 2007 March 2007 May 2007 June 2007 July 2007 September 2007 June 2011 July 2011 October 2012 November 2012 December 2012 January 2013 February 2013 March 2013 April 2013 May 2013 June 2013 July 2013 September 2013 October 2013 November 2013 March 2014 April 2014 May 2014 June 2014 July 2014 August 2014 September 2014 October 2014 December 2014 March 2015 July 2017 August 2017 September 2017 October 2017 February 2021 December 2022

           Links

            adam.
            elimae.
            pastsimple.