Connective Cube

Connecting the hard edges

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Quite memoir, Quite fiction.

Poetry

  • Pro-ble-ma-tic

    Knock tap knock
    Tick the clock tock
    I listen close to the watch that still seems to work
    at the flea market with actual tiny flecks that fly around
    but don’t seen to have any wings. .

    Turning the camera on me, I see
    well, let’s see where I walk with a scalding cup of Lipton tea
    it wasn’t a hip coffee joint, and Lipton took me back to
    the sweet tea flavors but this time with cream
    and a sincere desire to avoid burning the roof of my mouth.

    Close enough to walk for food
    but far enough to take at least 20 minutes.

    Boom boom
    Interrupts my gaze at the ridges of a birch tree leaf
    cars with their austere rims anonymous with
    an outline of a bobble head
    no more a man for revving that engine groggle
    that awakes me from my walk-a-day slumber.

    I think back to times with less tinny and revving sounds
    Or those times when a buzz above
    expands to sonic pebbles that I barely perceive.

    Only 10,000 planes at a time in an hour above
    That’s millions in the last 10 years alone, oh.
    –

  • Moving a mouth

    Loud voice, closed lips
    If my chords work right now
    they would say
    ‘absolutely incorrect’.

    Someone might believe I have
    Hardly a conscious thought;
    She’s not fond to ponder without a point,
    Is she even understanding what I’m saying?

    My nail nubs have a hard time opening the new face cream.
    I puncture the think layer of iridescent plastic with a knife,
    Eager to spread the blob on my face cake and
    Relieve my dry fingers..

    Ruminating another false perception
    Not really
    Wanting to talk about it
    While I knead my forehead and my cheekbones.

    It feels like a romance, one with a book cover
    Of grinning faces around a long table.
    They know each other from a spectacular sociality.
    Or having many many cousins or kids.

    It’s not regrets and I’m thankful to take naps
    To listen to the birds and wonder why
    Throat to chord, jaw to beak
    What moves a mouth to open.

  • A cursory matter

    I wait for you, patiently, to transform me into letterforms.
    It’s easier in a way, I can adapt to your unfolding expression.

    I blink when you stop signaling me.

    Before, you had that rectangle flat
    gestures flow with determination
    softness of matter absorbing ink
    stretching the guile of the neural environs. 

    You’d look at those rectangles and tap away.
    Eventually, you came to treat me as the
    spiral notebook, free legal pad, or large whiteboards.

    Now, your honesty, honestly, could benefit from:
    no
    soft electronic
    flashes
    that last a micro-moment

    Now someone asks me a sentence I disappear until you’re ready.
    Your neural environs reflect on my host’s electronic archive.

    I’ll come back once my host answers your prompt. It’s evidence.
    The ask is often beyond your neural environs.

    You ask questions to me
    more than you answer them.

    Pushing you to stop blinking and keep the remix of words reminds me
    in a flash
    that I can still make the world stop with my
    own
    words. 

  • Tooth brain smack

    What’s that slice in the gum
    The one that shows so definitively when I press hard.

    So soft, the imprint noticeable 3 minutes later, though fading.
    I mean no shade when I say this is another stint

    Of proving my doctor right that I have a high pain tolerance
    By chance, no evidence of it when I wake up before my alarm.

    4 hours earlier. At 2am wondering if I’ll swallow my tooth in my sleep
    LIke the one time I chomped on sticky taffy and my crown fell down my throat.

    That one stubborn crust that went perpendicular on the pink graiin
    But still didn’t penetrate, only the same when I pressed my fingernail

    Into my gooey mouth when I was 10 with calcium bound pearls
    Wondering why my gums are the same color as bubble yum.

  • Spread smash

    A stick in the sky,
    shy, I try to pry.

    It stays, firm,
    with a tussle in the leaves
    nothing perceptible falls.

    Hey, smalls!
    no one would ever call me.
    my american thighs
    squish wide on the seat,
    full flat.

    Legs, double the
    hand-drawn sticks
    I try to draw.

    Thicken here, share there,
    look at that line
    so static,
    for now.

  • Sometimes I shiver a river

    I get goose bumps most times when / the little holes in my eyelids / produce an overflow of liquid

    that my dam eyes fail to contain

    There the micro-hills on my arm feel flattened by / the only warm appendage / my hand that was in my pocket

    and now catches the four raindrops through the cracks

    My soggy arm now beaming heat and chill / the shirt, it’s a stainer as I strain / to see through / the eyeglass condensation

    Big girls don’t cry-yai-yai

    Yai right / boys don’t cry / big girls don’t crai / infantilize the cry baby / hold it back / let it out / cry cry cry / did you forget to cry? / He doesn’t cry often, but when he does / she cries to get attention / it’s not all about you.

    The chill / the hill / the ill I feel now that I have to breath in / breath out / haaaaaaaaa hot air / jaw creaks / water splash / it’s time to say hiiiii-eeee and care / I’m not overthinking , not overthinking right now.

  • Too lia

    Bustle my loves, I’m a friend to all
    Who doesn’t make it about them /

    Disorderly you, how can I help?!
    I ask, as if expecting an answer /

    Stir you nothing, can you speak?
    If I can, YOU can too! /

    Wait no, no, not that tone,
    Stop, although I can’t say why /

    Stay positive, don’t overthink it! I tell you,
    It’s your one goal to make others laugh, that’s it /

    No, no, not like that, be more uplifting!
    Your stories make others feel worried /

    I can’t say why, just remember your childhood,
    don’t we all have good stories from then? /

    If you want to be cherished like me, change,
    Be more like me, people like me, they clap /

    Wait, why is you face so blank,
    Have you any emotion, like me?

  • Wait who? Oh, it’s you.

    Your hair is so long. It didn’t get so long when you were a kid.

    Wait, you lived in DC, right? Are you still a vegetarian?

    It must have been hard to be the older sister of someone more charming.

    What is this big deal about The Alphabet?

    JUST TELL ME

    You were always so sensitive.