when you want to hold 
your heart's heart  
so much that the lock on your chest

bursts,
and the squeaky hinges of this door

scream,
you cry with happiness and grief
(and grief, and grief);

there is only the earth
and your knees meeting it
in parallel collision

and embrace

and not relief.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

• getting our geek kon
• geek.kon 2008: quick review.
• no parking, except on mondays
• the method, not acting
• vegan mofo

you can also find me at:

soNOTcool :: flickr :: twitter :: daybook :: video

this winter: 

it snows here,
lakes freeze,
i drive on ice.

i sit in the hot
bath tub,
drink beer,
read about glaciers
in alaska.

the only snowshoe
that fits
isn't my size.

i write in six different
notebooks,
crude scribblilng
about a catch in breath,
that trapped sign.

murmured
colors that suite
glazed looks,
braided,
intertwining ideas
passes time.

the world is blue;
underfoot crunches.
i chew on
the long day,
muse on movement,
observe tides. 

this is
the universe-accordion.
this is
the color book of life.
this is
where i slumber,
trudging snow,
restlessly, by moon
in the night.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

take this specimen. 

can you see
how
it has this exoskeleton

protection,
an armor

it could be a talent
and/or
it might be a tactic 

an ego-operative

fitted and thwarting,
stealth,
incognito

to examine we must ...
look here, please! 
 ... disect.

if you could
turn up
the lights just a bit

ah, yes, that's better.
thank you

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Haiku for a haiku.

Immediate cheers
The clapping grows to applause
Standing ovation

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

Don't school me on angst.

I know about angst.
I know about waiting,
wanting,
biding my time.

I know about aching,
thirsting, yearning.
I know about
saving my dimes.

I know about the hours,
and days, and weeks
that, past, chime.
I know about my space,
the hollow,
the vacant beating,
repeating rhyme.

I know about seasons,
revolutions,
moon phases,
the internal tide.

I know about planning,
and finding,
and sliding,
and paths that bind.

I know how to climb.
I know this design.
I know the thrill,
so bright,
of buffing
this
treasure of a gem
to a shine.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

oh, despair.
we are friends.
how bright and lovely
you are to me.
a brilliance
ripples on your surface
and resonates deep
into that dark, liquid belly.

i eat my food
like
a hungry animal.
what else is there,
but that which 
lies before me now :

cooling breakfast,
gnawing river,
the promise
of day and night.

the warm
shawl of forlorn
becomes an embrace.
the bete noire,
in the mirror,
is the movement,
the eternal, infernal equations,  
behind this face.

unsunk, just
the return
of my black crow friend, 
dismay.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

most painful
to paint
is the reality
that i rained.

brooks
streamed down
incline of neck,
splashed across
horizontal
swell of breast.

a quiet
evening shower.

the earth:
none the wiser,
feeling not the
absence of sun
though draped
in shade.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.

there can exist a moment,
or even a mass of moments
that contain months of days,
and hours, and seconds --  

each felt
precisely and beat out by the heart
like x's on a calendar --  

cadence and counting and containment
in a mass of moments 
holding the now known
length of days.

© JODI ANDERSON. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.