poem: par for the course

par for the course*

I have noticed
that when
you are around
I turn it up,
bring myself
to the next
level -
manic happiness.

in one
quiet moment
I realize
that I do this
for two reasons -

one: revenge -
to grate
your nerves
the proverbial
nails on
a chalk board,
so that the shrill
of my voice
will make you
to not only
stab your
ear drums
but also
scratch out
your own eyes.

two: satisfaction -
so that you
will know
I am happier
without you,
than you
could ever
even dream
to be
in your
of dysfunctional

*"par for the course" - an idiom referring to what is normal or expected in any given situation or circumstance.


poem: parallel lines

parallel lines

I used to think
I needed
to come to me
in order to breathe.

looking back
I see how
I gave it away
too much
too easily.

I want us
to love
each other
having to
say it.

I want it
to exist
of waiting
to get it
so that
I can
it back.

should be

it seems that
that is how
we have
each other.

we used to
in parallel lines
that would
an embrace.

we dance
in circles
each other
to avoid

I don’t know
to go back
to the
starting line,

if we
can ever
with the
of us


café ramblings

this past saturday was amazing. my book "launched" and I was really fortunate to be able to read some of my poems in front of real-life people. it was a very validating experience for me...to feel like people really thought my work was good and maybe even like it is art.

I can feel the creative energy of this vata season flowing. I was writing in my head (as usual) while driving to work this morning. it turned out to be (at least for right now) two separate poems that I was somehow writing simultaneously... well, in my head, at the time, it was one poem, but once I got to work and actually had a chance to start writing in earnest, the lines became two different poems. they're still rough right now, so I feel like I need to give them a little room to breathe and grow before I share them.

I'm also reading this amazing book of poems by maggie royer called the no you never listened to. it's soooooooo good. so good. so.good. it's extremely raw and honest and even though I've not had the same experiences as her (as the poems revolve around her sexual assault) I can relate to her honest, vulnerable purging. and reading good stuff makes me more creative, and ultimately a better writer. number one rule of writing: read. read. and read more.

I'm sitting in this little local café as I write (madhavi is participating in a scholastic competition down the street) and there's all of this amazing art on the wall and a fire place going and an espresso machine making frothy sounds and hip music playing (well, it was hip, but hootie and the blowfish just came on... seriously?!)... and as I was just about to start writing about how I've come to the realization that living a "writer's life" would probably be too hard for me... I started to feel a burn in my chest like it's the thing that I want more than anything. to sit and write. to feel as comfortable and at peace as I do right now in this moment all of the time. but I guess real life isn't really like a coffee house, right?

at the stay gold café and lounge in belmar, nj


alternate endings

I wrote this poem a few days ago, but can't decide what to do with the end. here are both versions. just because.

version #1


survivor's guilt

it's something I
     cannot fathom
being a survivor
                 of you.
when I
            a photo
            of you and
                        your latest
I do not feel sad
        that I got
        that I survived
               and she might not.
instead I think
                to myself
I'm so glad
that it's someone
else in the fire
and not me.

version #2


survivor's guilt

it's something I
     cannot fathom
being a survivor
                 of you.
when I
            a photo
            of you and
                        your latest
I do not feel sad
        that I got
        that I survived
               and she might not.
instead I think
                to myself


working my way through $100 worth of magazines and existential crises

my day in a nutshell. yes those are tween fancy cat ears. 
I recently went on a bender at barnes and noble and spent an insane amount of money on, yes, magazines. and when you buy super pretentious magazines and actually read them, it takes a long time to get through them. anywho, one of my purchases is always poets & writers. I don't know why... I honestly only read bits of it. I realized as I was flipping through it today that I found myself basking in the mfa ads...daydreaming and wishing and regretting that time back in 1999 when I had a full naropa application filled-out and ready to go, and then I didn't send it. shrug. I don't even remember why... but if I had done it then, I'd have my mfa already! and then I think about how I applied to the nyu mfa program and didn't get in. oh, but then I think about how I applied to the farleigh dickenson program and got in... and then didn't go because gita had just been born and I couldn't go to the residency... I don't know. part of me feels like what's the point? #doublerahu and no expectations of success, right? but then part of me feels like #yolo, wtf, why not?

I don't know. my husband would probably kill me if I even mentioned going back to school. plus, why do I even want to do it? you don't need an mfa to be a writer. and I'm already teaching at the college level (well, albeit community college adjuncting...). is it just for my ego? maybe. probably. but what else is there, really? I know that I'm on a professional treadmill right now. I'm runningrunningrunning and getting absolutely nowhere (thanks, rahu). but I could get an mfa and still go nowhere - as was proven by paying a lot of money and spending a lot of time getting my master's in school counseling - oh, right, I'm supposed to be a school counselor right now but my karma sucks and I'm not!

so, yea. back to I don't know. what if I just picked three programs and applied? just threw it up in the air and waited to see where it all landed? it's something to do, if nothing else. right?