tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-22772674639781740602024-02-18T23:13:16.365-08:00For the Benefit of Mr KiteHayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.comBlogger130125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-24967644156664745282013-03-25T22:34:00.002-07:002013-03-25T22:59:32.591-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Saturday Night Live</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">The trash ghosts in piles at the backdoor -</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the mans work around the house is stacking up -</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">junk litters the backyard.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I make it home at 2 am</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">to an invisible chastisement,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the yells echoing with me down the halls</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and into my bedroom</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">where his left behind book sits open</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">half-read</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and he's somewhere in Florida</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">watching Saturday Night Live</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">laughing maybe</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">maybe wondering, like me, how the hell</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">he's supposed to fall asleep.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-57330135242377791192012-12-30T21:07:00.000-08:002012-12-30T21:07:01.311-08:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">He said, I have all of you but I want less.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Like a half finished course at dinner,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">here I have had enough.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Here take your heart</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">here take your limbs</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">here take your sad eyes and your hurt</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and take it quick please</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I can't look at it anymore.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">It's become too tangible</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">too like a stranger</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">like a third person ghosting</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">in the backseat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I have all of you, he said, but I want less.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Here take your words.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Take your words and swallow them whole</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">take yourself back into yourself.<br />Take your words like medicine</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and choke them back down your throat.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">I have all of you, he said, but I want less.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Here take your teeth.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Take your lips and your tongue.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Here, he said, leaning forward</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">take your breath. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-73302580703608958932012-11-15T18:52:00.002-08:002012-11-15T18:55:07.326-08:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">Not what has made me, but I am what has unmade me. The drifting apart of sleepless nights, the soul stretching of heartache, the pull of the infinite, the silence. The words that seeped in and diluted my blood and shadowed the lines between my skin and everything else. </span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><span style="font-size: large;">The longing for you that reduced me to a ghost.</span> </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-63606053370623900882012-11-08T22:03:00.001-08:002012-11-08T22:05:39.656-08:00...<br />
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">If trouble comes when you least expect it then maybe the thing to do is to always expect it.” <br />―</span><span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;"><span style="text-decoration: none;"> Cormac McCarthy</span></span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I suppose that I always expected trouble, but I never expected you. You with your honest eyes and soft shoulders and innocent hands always running through your hair. You with your innocent hands. Trouble's hands aren't innocent and trouble doesn't use adjectives the way you do and trouble doesn't close its eyes. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">It wasn't new. Trouble was always there, the way bruises are, lurking,waiting, under the surface of the skin. Taking but one hit, one impact, to spread blue-black and visible and sore to the touch. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You would think I would forget. You would think, after all this time, this shaping and reshaping of the heart, you would have been lost. You would have slipped into the blood stream and drown or tiptoed through my tunnel bones and stumbled out my finger tips. You would have clawed up my throat and exhaled, like breath. </span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">You would think, when the snow fell, you would step outside. Catch a snowflake on your upturned hand. Grab your coat and boots and venture out, venture away. But it seems, when the storm came,you closed the door and shuttered the blinds and retreated further into the dark cave of my heart.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<br /></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0in;">
<span style="font-family: Courier New, monospace;">I suppose I always expected trouble,but I never expected that trouble was you. </span></div>
HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-77322106164831483022012-10-05T17:24:00.000-07:002012-10-05T17:24:23.599-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Early Peach</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Fall fell like an early peach. Just ripe, orange-y and nude and flesh colored, like the underbelly of a salmon. Warm and humming with a heart-like pit at the center of its covered fruit. Size like the palm of a hand. Soft on the teeth and fuzzy on the tongue and round, like a vowel, in the mouth. Round and sweet. Sweet with an ancient sweetness so that even earth, upon tasting it, intook breath, closed her sad summer eyes. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-71340647191757979562012-09-09T20:47:00.001-07:002012-09-09T20:49:05.182-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">So</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">metimes truth shoves you up against a wall and kisses you, like a boy. And your stomach drops to your knees and you catch your breath, because you weren't expecting it. And sometimes truth walks up to your door, and stands on the porch while you run around frantically downstairs getting dressed, doing your hair. Truth waits until you come to the door, breathless. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">You and truth have a got a way of running in to each other. I guess it's a small city, and the truth is big, it always has been. Sometimes you wonder how something so big, so universal, so inevitable as truth fits so quietly in your hand. You wonder how it fits its hands around your waist. You wonder how it speaks, why you listen, because truth has never been loud.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">And mostly you wonder how truth got into your room, how truth entered your house in the first place. Don't you always forget to lock the back door? Now truth is sitting on your bed and truth's shoulders are so soft and eyes so blue it almost breaks your heart. It almost breaks your heart, truth does. </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Sometimes truth holds you while you cry. Sometimes truth holds you while you cry not knowing that the reason you're crying is because of him. Sometimes truth grabs your hand, tucks your hair behind your ear, asks you to stay, not knowing that the truth shall set you free. Not knowing that the truth shall let you go. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-49554006449768761402012-05-18T09:58:00.003-07:002012-05-18T09:58:54.339-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">My english teacher, brimming, noted</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">with reverent chalkstrokes on the blackboard</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that the sun sank like a ship</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that particular evening</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the author sitting under </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">what must have been a cool blue ocean of sky</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">or perhaps a cloudy gray one</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">with the sun, like a 2-ton freight ship,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">blindly trekking through its stormy center.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"><br /></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Or maybe the ship of the sun</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">caught the aching wind in tall white sails</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that led its tight brown body,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">two cupped hands,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">onward by the hand of that bastard captain</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">eternally drunk and beaming</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">a sea-salt encrusted smile.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">But I, in my 11th grade naivety, thought</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that this simile should have been crafted a metapor</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">as the sun,a humble one-man sailboat</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">capsized quietly</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">just past the horizon. </span><br />HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-83064320697685127852012-05-16T21:19:00.002-07:002012-05-16T21:19:48.186-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace; font-size: x-large;">My head and my heart hurt.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-81179038752731696162012-05-14T14:19:00.002-07:002012-05-14T14:19:15.797-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Summer</span><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> arrived on the street corner</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and stole up the sidewalk, lightfooted</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">wary not to muss </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the simple garb of spring</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">which fell in soft piles on the pale green lawn</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and heaped like clothes</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">next to the clawed foot of a porcelain bathtub</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">whose ivory walls cradled the lukewarm water</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">like an expectant lover.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-10485990489365440022012-05-14T14:06:00.004-07:002012-05-14T14:22:29.091-07:00No Reasons<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">All the things I'd like to say are already making a tired stack. They're filling me up and weighing me down. So I'm sorry if I walk a bit slower, or choke on my words. I'm sorry if I take longer, in this little mess, to find words at all. I'm sorry for crying, but I suppose I already said that. So I'm sorry I said it, and I'm terribly sorry that I know I'll say it again. I'm sorry to the ground for the extra weight. I'm sorry if it's harder to pick me up before you'd like to gently let me down. </span><br />
<br />
<em><span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;"> "Complications of the heart always you leave you torn apart. Now you're careful what you fall into." </span></em><br />
<br />
<br />HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-13909419477190307032012-05-07T14:02:00.000-07:002012-05-14T14:27:17.791-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">His face was not noble</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">nor angelic</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and it did not look like it had lingered longer</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">under the crafting hand of God</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">than any other</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">but it could, in the right lighting,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">pass for a saint</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">a solemn one who sulked handsomely in the dark velvet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">of a 17th century portrait</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">or a saint who</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">had been melted and fragmented into a stained glass window</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">which had its own corner in a quiet cathedral</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and seemed to contemplate the organ music with such intensity</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that the sunlight straining through his glass body</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">blared like accompanying trumpets,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">bronze and thick.</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">Or maybe the kind of a saint</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">who on a cold April evening shirked his holy duites</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and took a walk through the thinning night</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">past the house of the girl he half hoped would be awake to meet him</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and half whistling a song of spiritual doubt. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-82284898087958426892012-05-01T22:09:00.001-07:002012-05-01T22:09:17.089-07:00<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">If I were an artist I'd draw</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">a skeleton</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and the bones of its feet</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">would rest at the bottom of the page,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">not entirely anatomically correct,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">but enough so</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">that the shins would follow lithely next</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and the legs would stretch</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">into the smooth bowl of the pelvis</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and I would place the rib cage just above</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">the air of the torso</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and stack the vertebrae </span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">one atop another</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">past the tired half-moon of the shoulders</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and shape the subtle hollow of the neck</span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">where I would rest your larynx</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">and deftly string your vocal chords</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">so you can continue your soft humming</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">to the tune of internal struggle</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">which is always swelling,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">an unassuming mushroom cloud,</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "Courier New", Courier, monospace;">just past the wreckage of your broken lips.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-80500888635397346482012-03-22T20:22:00.003-07:002012-03-22T20:44:45.252-07:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">People go on about eyes being windows to the soul. I think that you can tell the most about a person by their hands.<br /><br />Sometimes I hold mine an arms length away. Or I watch them as they type or turn a doorknob or sit heavy in my lap, laden with uncertainty. And sometimes they look foreign to me. And sometimes they feel sore from pencil holding and from awkward waves. They sheepishly turn pages of books. My hands move sometimes to fill up silence. I hum quietly and my hands move. They go from my hair to my other hand to resting under my chin to subconciously covering my expectant mouth, to drumming on my lips.<br /><br />And I think lips can tell a lot about a person, too. The way they frame words in talking. The way they close; the subtle way they open. The misshapen o's they make in moments of shock, surprise.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-31428476682218483602012-02-06T17:05:00.000-08:002012-02-06T17:06:10.502-08:00<a href="http://www.hayley-elise.tumblr.com/"><span style="font-family:courier new;">www.hayley-elise.tumblr.com</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">So yeah. Check it out. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-29254945524853858322012-01-30T21:40:00.000-08:002012-01-30T22:47:39.575-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSCpNUG4fNJ2WceIBCTbeWiDeLjTW4u9mLKnu39T40rQtaPhMSc695OlvVaE8JFXoQmlp_1jVrFYJjJ-YWSW_6NGEK-50M6SiJQloPmJNxNErixS5S7gCYBZrNOMTazFiUT0V7MN1lEQn/s1600/blogdallas.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 216px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5703667265234629458" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgcSCpNUG4fNJ2WceIBCTbeWiDeLjTW4u9mLKnu39T40rQtaPhMSc695OlvVaE8JFXoQmlp_1jVrFYJjJ-YWSW_6NGEK-50M6SiJQloPmJNxNErixS5S7gCYBZrNOMTazFiUT0V7MN1lEQn/s400/blogdallas.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-family:courier new;">This is my best friend Dallas. We were kind of bopping around in life and we chanced upon each other and both liked the same music and had the same jean size. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">She's got blonde hair and small hands and she writes the prettiest little sentences. Once she scored a game winning soccer goal, because she's a bad ass like that. She likes Winona Ryder and carmellos and different colored cowboy boots. We went to Lake Mona in the summer and she told me she wants to be a marine biologist or a vet and live in a neighborhood by the beach in California. She sometimes needs her inhaler for anxiety. She laughs and listens to Coldplay and the Shins. She thinks that society killed the teenager.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Sometimes I'll ask her a question and she won't reply and I think it's because she's lost in all the pretty thoughts tangled in her hair. She might be lost, but I think all of us are really. Lost in wonderland, or something of the sort. She even looks a little bit like Alice and she's completely bonkers like her, too. <span style="font-size:130%;">"But I'll tell you a secret, all the best people are."</span></span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-48768838091155426022012-01-17T20:34:00.000-08:002012-01-18T14:29:58.135-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">We're always driving down the canyon. And it's usually after dark. The mountains seem closer, looming blue and tired next to the road. The moonlight smudges the sky and dims as it seeps inevitably towards the ground through the thick black night, giving only a faint glow to the aspen trees. Aspens are my favorite, and they're yours too. <em>And </em>they're the biggest living organism on the planet, even bigger than the blue whale. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">You look straight ahead and I look out the window. I look at your profile and your hands on the wheel, and the ache in my stomach climbs my throat and bruises my lips. I say something to fill the silence. I prop my head against our two hands.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">And that first time, and every time since, you told me you were going to show me something. At the most winding part of the road, you turn off the car lights. And for a fraction of a second we drive in complete blackness. The road disappears. You can't see anything at all. Then you turn the lights back on and the road, back from oblivion, is beneath us. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;">And I can see your profile and look out the window. Everything illuminated by the two yellow lights at the front of the car, leaving a broken trail behind us like smoke after a rocket ship.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-7134819853104737792012-01-17T20:31:00.000-08:002012-01-17T20:32:52.861-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">I have a best friend Dallas and this is her tumblr:</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><a href="http://www.d-allas.tumblr.com/"><span style="font-family:courier new;">www.d-allas.tumblr.com</span></a><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Check out the latest videos, y'all.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-18362430489568893042012-01-12T21:37:00.000-08:002012-01-12T21:44:43.095-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:130%;">“…He forgot the danger he was in, grateful for the world which purposefully puts divisions in place so that we can overcome them, feeling the joy of getting closer, even if deep down we can never forget the sadness of our insurmountable differences.” </span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:130%;">- Nicole Krauss <em>The History of Love</em></span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-26948602625893483622012-01-05T22:32:00.000-08:002012-01-05T22:56:11.242-08:00I'm terrible at endings.<span style="font-family:courier new;">Someone once said if you don't know where to begin writing, write about it. Write about the sense of searching, longing. The feeling of reaching into empty space and the feeling of empty space reaching back. The aching awareness of the nothingness in the cavity of your chest and in the slip of space between your skin and your bones.</span><br /><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">And perhaps that same reach, that same step from undefinable point A to nonexistent point B, may remind you of something. </span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-14775906641508115782011-12-27T13:25:00.000-08:002011-12-27T13:37:45.420-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">I close my book sheepishly, careful</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">not to harm the black print words</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">clanging noisely against each other as</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">the cover descends gently and</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">my mother scolds with her eyes,</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">you're too old to be reading books</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">in the back of the church, nestled</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">in the corner of the pew.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Poem book inside hymn book,</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Billy Collins gospel and Margaret Atwood</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">scripture, novels</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">by Vonnegut resting next to my bible</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">amongst all the breathless churchgoers</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">eyes peeled towards the stand </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">with a dull shine like copper, glinting</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">like a penny on the sidewalk</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">in the sparkling wake of religion</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">under the down-turned face of God.</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">And my book </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">now hidden amongst the folds of my skirt</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">and pressed against the brick wall which</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">runs its patterns up the walls, across</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">the vaulted ceiling and to the great organ</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">clattering its montone notes just over</span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">our unprotected heads. </span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;"></span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-77677199992240735222011-12-26T11:53:00.000-08:002011-12-26T11:56:00.761-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDWTKG52DB5S5x_Rl2ivmxsKis0sAMIkLCdK-47tlDDVUuz-4ZvoFWxw96ryBj2WQNW0FFJN9D8nVO1EQrAO-vt1jd2XvIr4AIuEhLnsd07_6jz4Y-SNtD-MsquFgbgGuvokRd4daVdGj/s1600/bloggeometry.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690528065528637426" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhTDWTKG52DB5S5x_Rl2ivmxsKis0sAMIkLCdK-47tlDDVUuz-4ZvoFWxw96ryBj2WQNW0FFJN9D8nVO1EQrAO-vt1jd2XvIr4AIuEhLnsd07_6jz4Y-SNtD-MsquFgbgGuvokRd4daVdGj/s400/bloggeometry.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GlVx35qTXBOzwxjzm1oGD6pD9C9mxYgGG-TWOXnwu39mvm7T4K0JxeMfIokTgX8FeDuKk6b8jFAKkQ7UMSArkp0qvU0grHAiMuDLn8y2hPtSlRp4UxtSLvifutBTlLHy01AIsvXitgoO/s1600/blogairplanes.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690528062855303890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi7GlVx35qTXBOzwxjzm1oGD6pD9C9mxYgGG-TWOXnwu39mvm7T4K0JxeMfIokTgX8FeDuKk6b8jFAKkQ7UMSArkp0qvU0grHAiMuDLn8y2hPtSlRp4UxtSLvifutBTlLHy01AIsvXitgoO/s400/blogairplanes.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqawXM9bx8Btpsp1QQj4lmF8pzwUm-KQH-2fS1y3WxACpMEHGO9HujZlGGz60VqzmPWfCXcqHzmEyXasznqURF_odIH3xnvjclf90nJHwmXviLcX-_db0uUOC_lEDQCctTnSbIaquwH8r6/s1600/blogkiss.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690528057705989074" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhqawXM9bx8Btpsp1QQj4lmF8pzwUm-KQH-2fS1y3WxACpMEHGO9HujZlGGz60VqzmPWfCXcqHzmEyXasznqURF_odIH3xnvjclf90nJHwmXviLcX-_db0uUOC_lEDQCctTnSbIaquwH8r6/s400/blogkiss.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><br /><div><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvM5dY7syrDMylBDfOS8QaiPU1DuZKym8wBlqtOu0zSND9Mf76V47RExaqWDuj0ihjAPM_PxZF3f5PUW026954L-2XWS_8xuEMXlmVlcEySbq4Vj0a-iEbYASXqxa5OOPpcYm3G7VIEYy/s1600/blogwindow.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 240px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690528054924684354" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSvM5dY7syrDMylBDfOS8QaiPU1DuZKym8wBlqtOu0zSND9Mf76V47RExaqWDuj0ihjAPM_PxZF3f5PUW026954L-2XWS_8xuEMXlmVlcEySbq4Vj0a-iEbYASXqxa5OOPpcYm3G7VIEYy/s400/blogwindow.jpg" /></a></div></div></div>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-85484267611194232342011-12-23T12:06:00.000-08:002011-12-23T12:20:38.823-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">In my defense, I've been reading Billy Collins and doing cool things with my kick ass friends. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">The First Dream<br /></span><a href="http://www.facebook.com/sharer.php?title=The" target="_blank" u="'http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-first-dream/"></a><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">and as I lean against the door of sleep</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I begin to think about the first person to dream,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">how quiet he must have seemed the next morning</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">as the others stood around the fire</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">draped in the skins of animals</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">talking to each other only in vowels,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">for this was long before the invention of consonants.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">He might have gone off by himself to sit</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">on a rock and look into the mist of a lake</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">as he tried to tell himself what had happened,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">how he had gone somewhere without going,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">how he had put his arms around the neck</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">of a beast that the others could touch</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">only after they had killed it with stones,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">how he felt its breath on his bare neck.</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Then again, the first dream could have come</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">to a woman, though she would behave,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I suppose, much the same way,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">moving off by herself to be alone near water,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">except that the curve of her young shoulders</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">and the tilt of her downcast head</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">would make her appear to be terribly alone,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">and if you were there to notice this,</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">you might have gone down as the first person</span><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">to ever fall in love with the sadness of another. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">You have to read his poems and take a big deep breath and shake your head like a dog.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;">I did it because I had to.</span><br /><span style="font-family:Courier New;font-size:180%;"></span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-64048801251958163642011-12-14T19:29:00.000-08:002011-12-14T19:34:47.321-08:00<span style="font-family:courier new;">An english assignment: </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">The day shod its clothes bashfully; its soft pinks and shame-faced oranges falling in piles on the desert floor. The sun slipped carefully from his place in the sky and seemed to rest on the ground, a running distance away, before sighing and sinking under the horizon. As the sky dimmed, the moon loomed and revealed the glowing nakedness of night.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">There were miles in every direction. My uncovered feet finally able to bear the heat, I eased down from the truck bed onto the earth. The reddish dirt was still aching with warmth from the daytime, and it pulled at my bare soles as I began to walk. The terrain was as inconsistent as it was uniform. There was a cactus here, a pile of earth there, nothing animate enough to stand out on the flat horizontal.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I stopped and turned, a slow semi-circle. The land seemed to rush away from me. I imagined it may be what outer space feels like, so much emptiness seeming to pull back on itself ceaselessly in its Sisyphean task of creating more space out of space. I fancied Neil Armstrong sidling onto the tired sponge of the moon. He must have turned to see the vast amounts of space, like an audience with their eager faces turned upward, pious and expectant. Perhaps he viewed space with a force like thunderous applause or with the quiet soul-straining of waking from sleep.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">I lied down on my back. My father used to coax me to sleep when I had childhood bouts of insomnia. <em>Imagine a big magic eraser. It’s erasing your body, and it can erase things completely gone. Now it’s starting at your feet, up to your legs, now your waist, stomach, chest. It’s at your neck, your face, your head</em>. And try as I might I could still feel the weight of my body against the sheets and my head on the pillow. I still saw myself there, filling up my rumpled bed.<br /></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">Under the desert’s blue-black boundless sky I simply let myself spread. I stretched with the never-ending landscape and then stretched beyond it. I was deep in all the space I now occupied, and my soul thinned. The hum of the ground was beneath me and the desert all around me. I pulled myself in, and curled up on my side. </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;"></span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;">My dad would say, <em>Look, now your mind is gone. Now you’re completely erased and gone and you can fall sleep</em>. And he would kiss me on the forehead and leave me with <em>goodnight</em>.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-3088956380110583192011-12-12T22:11:00.000-08:002011-12-12T22:41:56.167-08:00<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pE38NhfvISW5uceGPyT3Qq6fJZHZEGmW9moza3EoCWRp5EN2f62u8HAYfLGWa0rK6ZqYsiyk5TwXmsaQE3TSvygsZvZ9W5ppMnaufNUNyDEAoQmU9ui42KLGw2nHzF0qD_h2-mJRxLKm/s1600/bloghands.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5685499496887824882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8pE38NhfvISW5uceGPyT3Qq6fJZHZEGmW9moza3EoCWRp5EN2f62u8HAYfLGWa0rK6ZqYsiyk5TwXmsaQE3TSvygsZvZ9W5ppMnaufNUNyDEAoQmU9ui42KLGw2nHzF0qD_h2-mJRxLKm/s400/bloghands.jpg" /></a> <span style="font-family:courier new;">My past self sprawled on the couch in front of the TV set, trying to warn my future self. </span><span style="font-family:courier new;">But future self would hear none of it, being as thoughtless and aloof as she usually is, busy about her mindless activities. And present self brushed her teeth dutifully, looking in the mirror. And she envied future self, tucked neatly in to bed. But laughed in the face of future-future self who was shaking off sleep like a barking dog about her ankles, preparing for another long day. And the parting between future self and future-future self struck present self as strangely sentimental, as waking from sleep often is. And there she remembered past self and the waking she had gone through just this morning, the trudging from present self to future self. And past self waving her white kerchief goodbye on the distant shore. And the whole horde of past self's lazing about on their various couches, slowly standing and forming themselves in a misshapen row.</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-2277267463978174060.post-54270667343443802632011-12-07T20:49:00.000-08:002011-12-07T20:53:15.151-08:00I'm afraid I've lost track<span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">Almost as if he's the philosopher inside of the scientist ready to say, "It's gravity that's been getting us down." </span><br /><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;">- Shane Koyczan</span>HayleyElisehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14398779032995115896noreply@blogger.com0