TheCourtRose

Bailing out my life with a bright blue bucket The drain is clogged, you see and now I'm strong-arming the waste Left to fester and mold, the floor becomes slick and dark There's no standing in the fetid water Can't wait for a plumber Each day I grab the bucket, a plastic, robin's egg blue and bail a little out at a time I could be somewhere else, with drains that work and plaster that isn't crackling inside the walls But this life belongs to me and I will bail out the mess, ounce by ounce No one can take this bright blue life from me

angry tiger stripes ripped into skin dewy childhood flesh coerced into maturity now scars and spider silk, trailing behind these knees, over these breasts, across these hips ivory road maps

1 Nymphaea caerulea , like pale blue smoke hanging from your lips, and rivers running beneath your skin A dab of essence oil at the hollow of your throat, or the delicate lines of your wrists Such fragile wrists You would protest in pain as I tugged and tugged, wanting you to play with me No hand could pluck you from your watery rest An Egyptian sacrament, a divine province There was no room for me 2 She has freckle on the middle toe of her right foot I had forgotten that, but saw it quite clearly Boney toes grappling anxiously with lush grass, soles so dry they crack against pervading sunbeams Watching her feet is easier than seeing her face She can't sit still again We both know what that means Coming down, going up One or the other, and far away from me The truth hanging, an unfinished game between us Upturned checker boards or cheating at Hungry Hungry Hippos It's easier to play Solitaire than to lose to her My eyes hang onto her toes like crook

Familiar Discontentment like acid in my bones. Eating, gnawing, chewing from the inside- out. Thoughts, wondrous, dark thoughts, intangible and useless without manifestation. Lamenting the false promises of others, but nothing to give but empty dreams, too. So hungry for a life of purpose. Starving. Nothing so far can slake this appetite, eating me alive. Old plans trickle heedlessly to the floor from a mouth slack with indecision. No matter where I go, who I love, where I live, eventually the Discontentment opens its gaping maw- swallowing me away, crunching my bones and smiling, with my ragged flesh caught in its teeth.

kiss me, my Winter Queen steal the fire from my lips pull the fertility from my body and fallow the soil of my soul lay dormant the flowers at my feet, pass your hand over my eyes and ask me to sleep let me lie in your arms- a pale December sun casts shadows through the trees overhead my heart beating slower, limbs languid and numb my time is ending- not meant for ice and shadow, wake me when the sun is high again I am safe in your arms, eyes closing against your cold visage- a pale blue sculpture gazing across a frozen expanse your world, not mine kiss me once, and let me sleep

Stops and starts for months, a fitful motor that's finally run out of fuel and faith Singing, Should I stay or should I go now? Too many years of being stomped and pushed and misunderstood Don't know if I have anything left It hurts to breathe Words tumble from your lips, sweet and sincere I know you meant them last night when I made love to you when I shouldn't have I'm sure you'll mean them again today Why now, for Christ's sake? After all this time Hand on the door, foot past the jamb, nice red bricks walling me away, so close to not being in love anymore Even if I had a breath left for us there is too much prior damage done I'm aching and tired, too raw to believe It hurts to breathe Add insult to injury, even if the guilt isn't entirely yours, can't you see I've been here before? Love and protection don't mean much to me Echoes of a childhood on repeat Just wanting the pain to be over, really To take a d

When I poured almond milk into my tea tonight, I realized that this is one of the best days of my life. But let me tell you why. I woke up in my new apartment today, and for the second morning in a row, the sunlight lit up the living room. I went to work by bus. (Because now I live just up the road from one of my campuses.) I attended a phone conference for a staff meeting that I helped organized, for a new supervisor who knows my name and actually likes me. After work, I walked across the street to the neighborhood pound to look for cat that I can now afford to have in my new apartment. Then I walked home. I made myself gluten-free dinner in my new kitchen. When my roommate came home from work we went back to the pound to look over kittens together. I am buying a litter box and toys this weekend, in joyful preparation. Then we went grocery shopping. I bought food for the rest of the week, gluten-free. I used coupons, bought super cheap milk and eggs, and had money enough for Nu

Guilt washed her hands in pomegranate- seeds and ligaments and clots She left it in the soap dispenser I washed my hands last night and could only think of blood

there is a lonely, blue-eyed boy standing in the concrete jungle wanting too much, heart swelling his chest a gentle blue-beating heart, like his eyes escaping, cascading down, overflowing to the concrete soaking the jungle floor flooding the world with light and heart and sound lonely, perhaps but not alone

I must confess, I used to be anorexic. I figured now would be a good time to just lay that out on the table. Being a hiccup away from 25 is bringing a lot of things to light. I've never shared this in such an open way, but today seems like a good day. Between the age of 13 and 14 I barely ate anything at all and exercised sometimes over 6 hours a day. Unfortunately, this unprecedented surge of "self control" and "dedication" was met with more praise than alarm. I am the perfect storm of components that make up a person who develops this disorder. Some of those components are dark and personal; I won't be sharing those here. However, I did want to talk about expanding. Ironic, eh? Someone who once dedicated herself so completely to disappearing now wants to discuss actually taking up space in the universe. Lately, I've been desperate to feel some growth- legitimately growing up, with all the attendant responsibilities and heartaches thereto. My poem Ra

My teeth are dust. I worry and grind, chomp and chew. My dreams are storm tossed seas. Cool white limbs circle my neck, pull me down- a siren's caress. Bleeding gums stain the sheets. My empty mouth full of silent crying. At night, in my own bed, there is no way to save a drowning man. They will find my cool dead flesh wrapped in sweaty sheets- lungs full of brine.

my fingers against the glass the cool against heated skin sunlight filtering through nails even better when it's raining out hand slides down, parallel to raindrops feeling lonely but not alone, exactly just listening an internal, rolling soundtrack something aware of itself, and very quiet to insert inside this moment instead of cutting across perpendicular a song as soft as fingers against glass or a tentative first kiss

Used to the burden of heavy weight, it is a strange time to have naked fingers and an empty hand Time now to sort through the deck of anger and bitter disappointment Never allowed the luxury before Plunging ahead, always building dignity and identity with blood embedded nails A shaky house of cards An old way of life Now, silence is not fear but necessity A matter of balance Had so many heavier things on the one side, but now swinging freely No need to bluff Wanting to pile bones and tip the scale again; wanting to walk hand-in-hand with familiar ghosts; needing to be burdened There is no guide to deal with uneasy equilibrium Naked fingers sort and deal, shuffling the new deck

Even a Sandman Dreams 1 The devil has a reality show but no one can tell me the name Everyone will say it's good though (No one wants to give the Prince of Darkness a bad rating) One old biddy says- It's okay. But an hour too long. She's still so close to her death that formaldehyde clings to her fingertips She sold her soul a long time ago, anyway for a pair of silver knitting needles I hope she'll knit me a scarf for my day in hell I hear the farther down you go, the colder it gets, but Dante always was a bit of a drama queen (Never appreciated the sunflower dreams I sent on Tuesdays) Don't think I actually auditioned, but all the big wigs are here and my memory gets shoddy after the last Inquisition No one wanted to dream then, just in case of nightmares Can't blame them, it's nothing personal Even a Sandman dreams 2 But I've been here before The wild-eyed Woman Under the Porch can't remember a

Rule #1. Don’t talk about Anti-Angst. Rule #2. Don’t talk about Anti-Angst. Rule #3. Go ahead and feed the mother**cking ducks. Rule #4. Schadenfreude: It worked for the Germans. It can work for you too. Rule #5. Dio officially made rainbows METAL. Enjoy. Rule #6. Roller skating under a disco ball increases endorphin production. Rule #7. Noli nothis permittere te terere. Rule #8. Cartoons are preventative care. Rule #9. Sing like you’re in the shower and everyone has earplugs. Life’s short. Rule #10. Odin invented mead AND poetry. Utilize both.

The batteries in my apple clock have run out Not sure when it happened until I noticed that 10:53 is permanently twice a day My electric toothbrush is dying, sputtering, and spinning slowly There's a basket of batteries somewhere but I can't find it amongst the piles of bills and newspapers "Recession Over: So Much Better Than Last Year" Last year I could afford my electronic toothbrush and my choices weren't narrowed down between a stick of deodorant or more mascara and only eating the incredible edible egg The price-tag of my underused education swings idly from boots I can't afford I'm afraid it might be a winter full of sandals Now I understand being too tired to go to work, because not having good work exhausts you, needing to go to the doctor, but feeling bad makes it hard to get up I'm not sure who writes the newspapers right now, but I'm sure I don't like them I'm getting awfully tired of 10:53

a stranger's skin, unwelcome hips but hindsights later- maybe not as awkward all teeth and bones and eyebrows hair tomboy short but now it grows, grows chestnut and honey locks past her shoulders down her rounded hips grow and grow make a rope build a ladder find a way out of the tower climb your way through the dark don't wait don't hesitate time to be large take up places in the universe decorate the braid with wild things use your hair to lure them forth make a lasso for your dreams learn to save yourself, my girl no one is coming for you move and stretch in your skin always your skin with or without foresight- grow all hair and skin and universe

On September 14th France became the first European country to nationally ban all face covering veils, including the niqab traditionally worn by women practicing the Islamic faith. "...France now joins Iran and Saudi Arabia as countries that tell its police force to use their time to inspect women’s garments," (Dr. John R. Bowen, the Dunbar-Van Cleve Professor in Arts & Sciences). Really. Really?! So, let me get this straight. France is now forcing women to expose their faces in public, when it goes against their cultural doctrine and faith. Can we say violation of religious freedom ten times fast? Let me make myself very, very clear. I do not want to be a part of a religion whose conservative extremists believe that women are the root and/or seed of temptation in the world and therefore should be covered up and subjugated. Neither do I want to be a part of a religion whose conservative right-wingers believe anyone from the Middle East is a terrorist and an infidel. I

the corner of Madison and Michigan a saxophone player underneath scaffolding "There she is!" as I walk by I want to believe we know each other saxophone gliding over my ears, melting on my shoulder blades the glint of an orange butterfly in traffic my breath catches, but she makes it to the other side where the violinist is standing in the shadow of an art museum, he plays the push of pedestrians and mad rush on sidewalks music and art and public places- like peanutbutter and bread and honey orange wings float by, skipping on the sound of strings notes drench the air around me melody flitting close to my lips, fitting closer than skin a full-throated soprano calls from the park ahead a city teeming with music here I am recognizable everywhere, anywhere orange wings carry me across the street a butterfly finding her way through the traffic

A watermark in my heart for the curve of Welsh shores, gray sky slumber and quilted dreaming Missing your rose-cheeked faces Toes are sandy with memory, the squeak of swollen doorways and thick-framed windows against hushed gales This is a mismatched sunshine Mumbling, mumbles in the edge of my mind- low-slung, keening voices No way to erase the tides of rising lines marking the places I have been

We shared a movie. There might have been popcorn. I remember the florescent light on your strawberry-blond curls. You liked Enid more than Rebecca. I felt relieved that you didn't want the blond with tits. You understood that last drunken night. All she wants is cock and comfort, you said. So did I. But you didn't understand me until 3 years later, when we were both covered in paint. The gray flaked over your strawberry-blond curls. I should have chose you, you said. No shit Sherlock.

The first time I heard AC/DC you danced in a dress from your mom's closet, barefoot on fraying living room carpet You melted to the floor, kissing your girlfriend on the mouth Your mom in the doorway, with meth-sick eyes, watched indulgently Thunderstruck I wanted to dance with you, wanted my hands on your smooth white thighs Your mom never liked me We shot Sour Apple Snapps in your kitchen and always knew when the paintings were slanted your mom was in the bedroom A life of erosion You kissed girls and had sleepovers in a house more empty than not, with time enough to be good at math and write stories with me But eventually you left, and now you have boyfriends and apartments, and no one to protect I never see you If every time you see me you taste sour apples in your mouth and see crooked paintings on the wall- you won't want to see me at all

She won’t touch you She never does Just shows up late in a red-pepper dress with black heels and a smile Wearing promises of love she will never fulfill

1 I'm in bed with you again I am kissing your pouting mouth and soft eyelids You cling to me like a reckless burr I can't seem to disentangle myself from your smooth limbs God you're everything I wanted to be your delicate body wedged neatly into mine Every breath I take your arms squeeze tighter Your hip bones dig into me I want to cradle you, seduce you, fuck you, kill you, be you How long have we lain together like this? a day an hour half my lifetime I don't know if I want you to stay but I am too weak to make you go You knew which is why you came back I'm not sure you ever really left 2 During your absence I picked up smoking, not often but just enough to cut the frays of an anxious mind I never did learn to crave cigarettes the way I craved you 3 I can't sleep I'm not used to sharing my bed You're polite enough You don't hog the covers You don't kick or talk But you're here in my space,

Why am I here, in the city by the lake- for love's sake? Or something a little less complicated. I came for you, for me- so we could be something more than ourselves, together. These buildings echo your name, the soil holds its sway and I have no way to find a path through without you. It scares me to know that I'd rather be alone and somewhere else, than here. How do we reconcile this? It was always you and me, but I cannot be who I am when I am here. Your roots dig deep, but there is change on the wind and you never bend even to my tears. I should not have come here, for love's sake alone- love alone is no longer enough.

She said that I am like warm honey Now I want to put golden highlights in my hair, just around the face and lay in the sun in North Carolina I am craving sweet tea and hand holding and those soft green hills I left so much behind She said I had the world fooled but I think the world fooled me

The wondrous Molly McCaffrey asked me to be a guest writer for her blog "I Will Not Diet" and I wholeheartedly obliged. "I Will Not Diet" is Molly's account of maintaining an active lifestyle and balanced diet in order to keep her weight under control and stay healthy. She absolutely refuses to diet, or deprive herself of simple pleasures. It's amazing to read her discussions about her personal struggles, as well as her opinion on the way women treat themselves in today's society. "The Catwalk" discusses some of my experiences so far as a plus-size model and, I hope, compliments the purpose of Molly's blog. Please take a look a my guest blog spot, as well as the other episodes Molly has written and tell us what you think. The Catwalk- written by Courtney Butler, guest blogger for "I Will Not Diet"

My Muse left me for a Hobo on State Street and I am sitting on a cardboard box full of unfinished books Can't blame her, really when nothing I do can shake this gray And after a quarter of a century my compass has yet to be tattooed where I can see it The Hobo is homeward bound- my Muse left me for direction I can't give her Now I know what it's like to be left behind In the divorce, I get the cardboard box and she takes her ideas