What about...

The tea leaf reader at last year's holiday tea predicted I would meet a boy.  "Don't let him distract you from your work, it's very important." she said.  I wondered who she meant, half believed and half didn't.  But it was possible.

This was my crite sheet for Sculpture, my only class:

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Course: Sculpture II -- Professor: Ganzglass, Marc --   Student: Margaux Robles Final grade: C --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Mid-term Comment: From the first day Margaux has been a vital member of the class, not just contributing to discussions and work in the studio but actively adding to the direction the class itself is taking. She is a great observer and seeks out experiences and unexpected opportunities within each assignment. Margaux is highly motivated and will really benefit from engaging in in-depth and expansive projects. --Mid-term Grade A- --Mid-term Absences: 0   -   Final Comment: Margaux began the semester strong but then seemed to let off the gas mid-semester. She had interesting ideas for projects but then either compromised them or scaled them back too much. She still contributed in class conversations and studio work but the disparity between her engagement there and the work she did on her own time was palpable. Her positive energy was noticeably absent from the final critique. --Final Grade C --Final Absences: n/a

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I started hanging out with Ben in mid-November, spending most days with him until the last day of class.  I worked on my owl until after it was due.  I did not even put the finishing touches when Ben drove me to the train station to leave town. This is actually happening.  Should I stop it?  Can I stop it?  How?  I am currently rather tipsy, and trying to get a simple thought on paper, but it sounds like a genuine worry. It isn't.

Parties with myself

Parties with myself

I dress up
Makeup too

I play my techno music
and I dance.

Ode to the fallen

In Barrytown
where the bodies lay
I saw young Kate Blake's name today
What her brother saw of the dissonant display...
hatchmarks taking over the grey

In the artist's womb with his curls unbound
He heaved his last sigh into the ultrasound
What the midwife saw, the ghost had crowned!
Broken umbrellas all over the ground

In the studio with the hearts on the door
We looked for you there cause we wanted more
What I didn't know, your heart was sore
Paint brushes scattered all over the floor

They're writing songs to put in their halls
They're making art to put on their walls
One day we die one day we die one day we die BUT YOU DON'T HAVE TO

The life in carpinteria was so strong. its best elements never died.

Smoking cigarettes,

listening

writing your thoughts as the street buzzes outside

well, what's better for you?

The hyper-valid productive motion springing from seething coils of popularity?

Or the unhampered valleys and stoops of virgin mind?  Swirling in its own presence, a swan

I malign and lose touch

I malign the seemingly benign and when the truth comes back

I hail its presence in my soul

Post office names

Sometimes I get post office names stuck in my head.
Tonight it's "Schiappassee."