on meditation

9.09.2016

tendons tense. relax
into to place,
(breathe in)
capillaries fizzing
adrenaline veins.

crouch to be disjointed,
head wilting slow;
(breathe out)
a small dizzy spell
and coppery taste.

breathe the fuck in.
breathe the fuck out.
you can calm down.
(i doubt, i doubt.)

be still

8.09.2016

be still. night sky
slow, soft, sure in its ink dark,
stars winking out to swallow me
whole.

the tall grasses
sway in wind movement nonexistent,
moaning roar from water-cars
crashing.

the corpse flower
wafts pungent in the silky air,
catching my nose, my mouth, like
vomit.

and you are there.
black hole eyes staring
endless, palms outstretched.

disappear.

Stitches

7.09.2016

i suppose i must be burlap
if you are wool.
we play at being friends,
we rent our sentiments.
symbiotic tug-of-war.

sometimes you drain
like potatoes in a can.
thick-spun slime melting off
slowly, then all at once;
you don’t keep well.

the world smiles gorgeous
but not for this one,
this one right here
that stabs slivers of glass
into the backs of eyes.

and those hooks! they claw,
they tear scar tissue
anew, and i don’t scream;
you pass over me in shadow.
it is just this again.

i will endure it, endless,
forever cosmos wrapping,
twisting to pull me
into your black mouth.
awaiting the kill.

lost and found

6.09.2016

you send the beacon out.
I sit in the dark, watch the
blooming, bloody red light sizzle into nothing,
and still nothing comes. no matter, you say,
you know the way. you make your maps and
i listen to you, whether I mean to or not.
you go the wrong route, and i follow, I
can’t find the words and my eyes hurt, the ragged breathing,
My mouth

 

yawns wide, canyon-big,
but i can’t tell you
what I think; you don’t want to hear it now.
we should be heading home. we need to backtrack;
back crack from exhaustion, i am the chattle
carrying your precious cargo along a ridge.
rocks snap quick across the edge, skitter into dark oblivion,
and what if I fall in?
i step lightly. I stomp my feet.

fixing pretty

5.09.2016

Here are my nails, unpainted. My face, unprimed.

My hands are clean. My eyes are bleary, but shine. And yet

you find it less alluring than the smoky-look, the polish and

that damn red lipstick, smudging itself

ungracefully on my teeth.

I’m fixing it up. I’ve got paint.

I’ve got brushes for blush and concealer, mascara

that has not quite congealed, old pots of DIY kohl cat-eyes,

and I’ve got the napkin with your number on it.

Yeah. That’ll do.

The List

4.09.2016

I have a little book.

It fits in well; it holds in my hands and on my lap, and it never tells my secrets. The clasp holds tight and hooks my pen. The time has come to open, words creeping out as magnets separate.


  • Grocery shopping.
  • Chores.
  • Clean out that bathroom grate.
  • Bathe the dogs and air the bedding!
  • You still have coursework on the couch.
  • Meditate and practice yoga; don’t get so relaxed, there are about a million more things to do.

I write the date, scrolling through lists past and gaze forlornly upon what I did that same day so long ago. What I didn’t do. What did I not do?

And I write. I write important things. Send that birthday present to her, do NOT forget, you have flaked on her so many times before. And I write mundane things. Laundry. Now. Your socks stink! And I write little, silly things. Play a game. Make a friend. Knit a mouse with a scarf.

Sometimes I cheat.

I write some things I have already done, to revel in the pleasure of crossing them out, to be immediately upon the finish line. I continue to write them, out of habit and not obsessive thought, to see the day when I can have no lingering feeling of something I did not do. Did not get to. Will not get to. Why should I bother?

And of the (hundreds? thousands?) of lists I have made, I have never finished a single day. There is always more to do. There is always a better way, more to be responsible about, more fun to be had than I am capable of having with this list-making, body-aching anxiety of forgetfulness and panic attacks. The falling and not getting up, not today, not now, I just can’t. The perception of failure each new day should be immense. And yet, when I am crawling into bed at night with my well-worn book, looking over what I have done, what has been accomplished despite the time constraints and mind breaks and body complaints feels like I am winning a gold medal for something.

Am I beholden to the list? Or is the list beholden to me?

Today on my Etsy I premiered my next candle, since the Lon Lon Milk ended up as such a success. It’s Chateau Romani! It’s a champagne-scented soy wax candle that looks like the real thing from the Legend of Zelda: Majora’s Mask! Check it out:

chateau1

I’m actually fairly proud of it, and I hope it gets some publicity! If you know anyone who likes Zelda, pass the word on for me! :]

DISTRO NEWS

I’m looking for more contributions to our little zine distro! If anyone reads this who loves zines, makes zines, or knows of someone who makes them, please contact me at paperdollcircusdistro[AT]gmail.com! I’d love to work with you! I’m especially looking for any poets interested in collaborating on a poetry/prose mini zine with me. It’s something I’ve had on my mind for a long time and I want to put it into action! I have two ideas.

1. A general collaboration zine. You send me poems, I’ll compile them, and we put it to print! Yeah, there’s some legalese about you releasing your work for print, but it’s all in the name of getting it out there! I have some poems I want to print but it’s just not enough to make a zine’s worth on my own :[

2. A stream of consciousness-type zine. People send me in WORDS. Not poems, just phrases, like a line or two of prose. I compile it into one long flowing zine that will span 8-16 pages. I think this has the potential to be really really neat.

So there you have it. Anyone interested, contact me!

milk1People are generally warned against the “Ides of March” but so far, it’s been holding a lot of luck for me! Today on  my Etsy I premiered the first zines in the Paper Doll Circus zine distro! I’m so excited. Plus, I started a new project that’s already gotten me some publicity in the Internet world! Come on, Spring! I am ready for you. //FIGHTING\\

 

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PEOPLE WITH CAMERAS

IMG_4290

 The first zine I’ve had for a while, called “People With Cameras.” It’s a color photo book of…..you guessed it, people with cameras! Charles, the creator, found these old pictures at a resale store. Something about that just seems awesome to me. Although it does make me wonder who gives away their old photos to resale shops…?

     IMG_4295

The zine costs $6 and is available on Etsy here. Or, if you’d prefer, I can send you an invoice via PayPal. Email me at paperdollcircusdistro[at]gmail.com for details on that.

THIS IS THE SLOW CENTER OF THE SPINNING WORLD

slow center1

The second zine is a fantastic poetry zine submitted to me by Carrie of California. Her sister wrote a poem that she then illustrated and turned into this little beauty! Her description of the zine is simple, but true: “it makes you feel like you’re sitting the CA sun.”

 photo-4

This zine is also going for $6, and is available via Etsy here, or again, can be bought via a PayPal invoice. Your call!

Moving along to the new project: I’ve recently started making candles. It was really just a hobby, something new I wanted to learn. But when I was shopping for soy wax at Hobby Lobby the other day, I came across some cute little milk bottles and of course, the first thing I thought of was Lon Lon Milk. And behold! A couple days of planning and work, and the finished product is available to the general public!

milk2

Apparently I’m not the only one who thinks it was a good idea, as the bottle has gotten some publicity on Reddit, Instagram, and Twitter. Nice!  I’m doing a test run of 6 bottles right now, available on Etsy here. I’m now looking into washable, empty Lon Lon Milk bottles and making candles of Chateau Romani!