From: What My Mother Doesn't Know

Mom's The Word

My mother has never talked to me
about birth control or safe sex or about
whether I should wait till I'm married.

But whenever I'm getting ready
to go out with Dylan,
she hovers in the hall

and keeps wringing her hands,
like she's scared that
I'm going to get pregnant or something.

And if I ever did,
which of course I won't,
it would serve her right....

Sonya Sones

From: "What Do Women Want?"

"I want a red dress.
I want it flimsy and cheap,
I want it too tight, I want to wear it
until someone tears it off me.
I want it sleeveless and backless,
this dress, so no one has to guess
what's underneath..."

You can hear Kim Addonizio read this poem aloud by visiting the Academy of American Poets Web site.

Loves her. Don't want to infringe on copyright though, so go read the whole thing. Read more from her book Tell Me at her author's Web site.

Napped From the Vault: The Offspring

Sorry about the sporadic posting. I seem to be entering one of those melancholy phases where nothing is as interesting as it once was.

You get that?

I've also been time-traveling via a collection of mix CDs I unearthed in my basement. Perhaps this audio meditation is fueling my dejection?

What evs. It'll pass. Always does. In the meantime, I offer you a songnapping from the nineties. Damn, I love(d) these guys:

"Late at night she knocks on my door.
She's drunk again and looking to score.
Oh, I know I should say no, but
it's kind of hard when she's ready to go.
I may be dumb, but I'm not a dweeb.
I'm just a sucker with no self esteem."

The Offspring

From: Tricks

They Call Vegas

Sin City, like calling it what it is
somehow legitimizes the name.
Las Vegas is Sin City. Whole lot

of sinning going on, from fancy
high-rise casino rooms to sleazy
well-off-the-strip motel dives.

People come here specifically
to sin. But I wonder whether
it's really true that "what happens

in Vegas stays in Vegas."
People stain themselves here.
I bet, no matter how hard they

scrub themselves after sinning,
when they go home, a certain
amount of stain remains visible.

Then, I guess, it's up to the spouse
or significant other to recognize
the meaning of that dark splotch

ghosting beneath the bleach.
Most of 'em probably don't want
to look. Don't want to know.

Ellen Hopkins

Poetry Isn't Dead, or Quiet

Despite what the Debbie Downers would have you believe, people still write kick-ass poetry.

Want proof?

You can listen to Kim Addonizio read one of her best poems, "You Were," at poems out loud, which features poets reading poetry and other poem-related frackery.

From: Thirteen Reasons Why

"The day your list came out wasn't too traumatic. I survived. I knew it was a joke. And the people I saw standing in the halls, huddled around whoever had a copy, they knew it was a joke, too. One big, fat, happy joke.

But what happens when someone says you have the best ass in the freshman class? Let me tell you, Alex, because you'll never know, It gives people--some people--the go ahead to treat you like you're nothing but that specific body part."

Jay Asher

From: "Take This Advice"

When your husband dies, vary your story.
Never settle for the uninteresting
truth. You, remember, were the woman
some fortune teller or drunken lover
said would die in white across an expanse
of grand piano - gunshot, bad drugs.
You are not one for the gentle common.

A decent man dies, his heart a fallen cake.
Tell it better....

...Tell his friends he died inside of you,
moaning his blood cry, making you cling, you
both far away eating berries, rubbing sticks.
Say he was often a surprising
lover, vigorous, and terrifying.
Just like that.
He was a passionate man, hungry but sure.

Tell no one he died in his sleep, gasping
for his share of air....

Gailmarie Pahmeier

Arts & Crafts: Balthus

Golden Days by Balthus

Despite not receiving any art training, Balthasar Klossowski de Rola began painting in 1924 when he was 16. Because his parents and brother were artists, he grew up among some of the finest artists and writers of his time. He and his mother were friends of Rainer Maria Rilke, with Rilke acting as a sort of mentor to Balthus, writing text to accompany his art.

Balthus is best known for his images of sexualized adolescent girls. Golden Days was painted between 1944 and 1946. Balthus often took many years to finish paintings.

More than one of my stories was influenced or inspired by the paintings of Balthus. Here is Posh Spice in a recent interpretation of Golden Days.

From: "Karma Chameleon"

"Every day is like a survival.
You're my lover, not my rival."

Karma Chameleon
Culture Club

From: Crank

Not My Type

No shirt
hot bod.
His, that is.
So why did
I break out in
a sweat.

No shoes
barefoot,
bare chest, with
a bare, baby face
to make the
angels sing.

Nothing
but ragged
cut-offs,
hugging a
tawny six-pack,
and a smile.

No pin-up
pretty boy
could touch
a smile that
zapped every cell.
He was definitely

not my type.

Ellen Hopkins

From: Someone Like You

“…I deserved better. I deserved I love yous and kiwi fruits and flowers and warriors coming to my door, besotted with love. I deserved pictures of my face in a million expressions, and the warmth of a baby’s kick under my hand. I deserved to grow, and to change, to become all the girls I could ever be over the course of my life, each one better than the last.”

Sarah Dessen

From: Story of a Girl

"I'd tell her about sex; the good stuff, like how it could be warm and exciting--it took you away--and the not-so-good things, like, how once you showed someone that part of yourself, you had to trust them one thousand percent and anything could happen. Someone you thought you knew could change and suddenly not want you, suddenly decide you made a better story than a girlfriend. Or how sometimes you might think you wanted to do it and then halfway through or afterward realize no, you just wanted the company, really; you wanted someone to choose you, and the sex part itself was like a trade-off, something you felt like you had to give to get the other part."

Story of a Girl

(a great book that made me sit back, laugh out loud, and say O.M.G.)
Sara Zarr