Magdalena O!

;oh, my blanket states

blankets covering your ass

hole

while my finger(s) find their way

deep-er

(oh wait, let’s not get ee cummings on

the audience’s ass – not like

your ass

hole

which deserves more than my

Babes in Toyland strap-on is

capable of)

how about a song?

can i play you a song? something

on vinyl from the used record  store

your uncle owns

but shhh

don’t tell anyone,

don’t let them know

how you got that Winstons record

ing.

March 31, 2004 sometime early morning 

the dilation symmetry
takes over me.

and there i go
in love
mathematically
when numbers become
figures      

  of [yo(u]s).
perfectly.

It’s past 1am. It’s late if I have to wake up at 7am for an all day conference on Adobe Creative Suite. It’s late if I want to have energy for tomorrow. It’s always late. There’s pomegranate juice all over my laptop screen and there’s seeds flung all over the floor. They never stay in place. Eating a pomegranate takes work and I like that. Picking apart the juicy tart seeds from between the bitter flesh to pop a few in your mouth to crunch on. I think I’m tired. I started watching Murmur of The Heart tonight but I need to sleep. Creative Writing class was overwhelming. Elizabeth Ruth inspires me in such a direct way, I can’t imagine doing myself the injustice and not continuing to write. I workshopped a poem I initially wrote years ago and everyone enjoyed it and she loved it. She enjoyed my style and the heaviness of the politics in it. She went on to tell me that all of my work has political undertones/social commentary and that some of my more love/lust writing hides it too much. The class discussed the poem at length and I am glad she forced me to bring a poem rather than a longer piece of fiction. Elizabeth also told me that these pieces remind her of Anais Nin and Erica Jong, in a good way, but she’s more interested in my crass political way of writing fiction/poetry. During the course, she’s always pushed me to bring in more poetry.

“Magda, does the world need another Anais Nin, or does the world need you?”

And I got it. I got that she was complimenting my writing style, but that I should push myself beyond the ease of self-absorbed writings of my life, my loves, my engagements with people. I think that living in myself too much is a hinderance. My roommate Steve said tonight, “The best writers write outside themselves yet incorporate themselves and their heart into each work.” I agree.

ASS ON CHAIR. I’m gonna write motherfuckers. I am going to rinse out. I will not start new stories, new ideas, I will write that first draft and write and write. I can’t give up something I haven’t even started yet.

Here is the poem: (still needs work)

I heard Charlton Heston’s daughter shot herself
while playing in her daddy’s room
listening to Metallica trying to brand the
word
metal
a TV was on in the
background, a Jenny Jones ‘Help Abused Kids’
special that exploits children to new levels
Nike hasn’t even though of
yet
The nanny was also home, flipping through
the newspaper trying to understand her assuringly
fixed position at the bottom of the middle class
scale while being taxed for services that never
make it to those who
need them
I think the brother was home too,
no one sees him anymore
ever since high speed was installed
strange noises come out of his room, the mom
suspects
porn
The dog was the only one to hear the shot.

My mouth is stretched out to welcome you

Like the open arms my mom has

When she hasn’t seen me in months

My mouth is stretched out because

I can’t stop smiling

Like the open arms you had for me

When I came to you with the sad news

And no one else’s job was but yours

To stretch them out and take me

In

My life collapsed

Your life collapsed

you hold my thigh
like Marian’s hand fits Johan’s after thirty years
my body lays still
wanting to capture every moment of Being
my body lays still
wanting its cells to be penetrated with your Being
your hand captures the tendons reaching for my pussy
tightly
do you know how flying light i am?
and then you know

coming is also like already Being there.

x
marks the spot
of where i wish

to be one day

to kneel & hold my hands
but not to pray
but ask your hand

to hold mine tighter
than before
forever more

(2003)

i was born somewhere between the lines
of you & i can’t exist in this time

i was born with this affliction
of loving those who perpetuate my addiction

i was born with them closing my door
not realising, by that they gave me more

freedom

is this place we all wish we were at,
but we livin’ jailed just like the next cat

(2001)