...er, I've finally copyrighted this schtuff--albeit halfassedly, but still, um, don't bite. Yo.   
prosety.

Okay. So prosety has been getting some more traffic lately, and I'd like to 'splain just what it is.

I've written all my life, but for the longest had no term for what I did most often: a weird hybrid of prose and poetry, too stream-of-consciousness and laden with various lyrical devices to be legit prose, and too straightforward (usually) and earthbound (for lack of a better term) to be called poetry. So about two years ago I figured out prosety.

This isn't a blog. You can visit the overhaul for that--sometimes it has some decent writing. This site, though, is a way for me to hash out my own writing in a semi-public forum, in the effort to improve it and develop as a writer...poetess...whatever. I have no idea, honestly.

I thought about making it possible for visitors to comment on the various posts, as they can at the overhaul, but I'm a bit too fragile for that just yet, and I also don't want to find myself (much as I did when I had a radio show) worrying "Will they like it? Will this appeal to enough people?" so I figured I'll just operate in a vacuum for a while, and if you really hate it, well, that's an option. Or if you like it, that would be cool too.

One more thing: some of these are quotes that appeal to me at that particular moment, usually from songs or books. Those are always indicated by a reference to the author or songwriter. Anything with no notation is my own.

So. This is my tree falling in the forest.



Thursday, May 29, 2003





...and i see now,
i see it is all so temporary,
i clutch and grab at stuff like it's my tomorrow, my day after, my lifeline and it
is nothing to you, or is only so much as
your weekend,
your story,
what you did,
who you saw

i am so impossibly hopeful
and stupid...









Friday, May 16, 2003






...and i fluctuate so much,
happy and sad and back again and I've been crying out too much
think about you all the time
it's strange and hard to deal--think about you lying there,
and the blankets lie so still
nothing breathes here in the cold.
nothing moves or even smiles
i've been thinking some of suicide,
but there's bars out here for miles
sorry bout the every kiss, every kiss you wasted back--I think the thing they said was true
I'm gonna die alone and sad
-ryan adams.

baker baker, bake me a cake
make me a day, make me
young again
and I wonder, if he's okay
if you see him, say
hi?
-tori amos.









Thursday, May 15, 2003



i still love you
i am sorry








Wednesday, May 07, 2003


there is nothing greater than this.
nothing dearer
or more real
shine on, love
shine and shine and shine and
shine it on like there's no tomorrow
there is no tomorrow.

i see every bit of you sparking and arcing and
god is in the details, love

when a year ago i abdicated all hope in the desert and shook in the rainstorm i forgot,
now i recall everything
and am restored to the mojave again,
thrown down laughing on the sandy earth that doesn't hurt when i fall in the dark.
















the essence of cruelty is injustice

how on earth could she not love you,
when you are like this?
so unspeakably lovely and good--
my friend, there is no god.
and what exists in his place is not just.

(...and I feel the pull to make up the indifference,
pale imitation that I am,
I am, I am, I am something of a shadow
tripping 'round your tall feet by your side where you feel she fit so well...)












Monday, May 05, 2003


no thing sweeter,
more kind,
than this--
waking up here,
your arm flung over me and
i won't move
for the world;
the wind could wail outside and
dust can claw at the curtained windows:
i would stay safe right here
in wideeyed wonder
silent
i am stunned.

tell me
how to take these things so hard to say, and make them
into little phrases strung together
like something i could pray on,
one line written after another
to transport me somewhere else,
when i cannot explain?
when i cannot say a thing?