Forget the new blog. I was bad with it. I treated it poorly. I took it for granted, and it abandoned me. I pleaded with the blog. Told it I'd try harder, that I'd blog every day. The blog was smart. It didn't believe me. It told me to grow up before I tried to start a new blog again. The blog was smart.

I'm in a state of transition. I'm trying to change things, to fix the things that need fixing. I told myself I'd stop saying "I'm trying my best" unless I really am. I don't think I'm trying my best just yet. But I'll get there. I'm running. I'm taking a multivitamin. I'm reading and writing each day. I'm applying for the MFA program in the fall. And just for kicks and because I'm feeling bold (or foolish), I'll post two poems that I just found while cleaning up my office and filing old papers. Keep in mind a couple things. 1. These were written six years ago 2. I am not a poet 3. I don't know how to do line breaks and 4. My 242 teacher said "you're a very talented poet." She's a graduate of the MSU MFA program. Feel free to tell me what you think.

Turtle Soup

This turtle carries Monets on his back
with a head hung low and
barely hanging on.
He's just another rabbit
in the wrong body,
going nowhere fast.
You caught up to me quick,
laughed and said I was silly,
said they'd both make good soup,
said that's all that ever mattered.

Ten o' Clock News

Out of the shower,
she lies on the ground,
naked,
motionless,
like the latest prime time victim.
She imagines her outline in chalk
and officers wielding badges,
offering insights,
while her body gets colder
and covered with ironic white.
Her masked vigilante shows up too late,
unable to save her,
hands filled with Starbucks lattes,
preoccupied by all the other distressed damsels.