psalm_onethirtyone: (This is My Way out of This)
And my last poem of the semester. Now I will go cry about the fact that I don't get to write any more poetry with my professor and his funny hair. :(

John )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Annie with Red Hair)
Three more poems. There's only one other one besides these, but Friday is the last editing day, so I haven't quite finished it yet.

Death )

*this poem is a re-imagining (not really a rewrite; but it's based off the same poem) of a poem I wrote two years ago called "Swan Song". Which is here, if you're interested in contrasting (I thought it was interesting).


Warning, I guess: this is a poem about trans* people, and it's a bit more graphic than my usual; there's mention of rape and suicide and trans* people being killed. Every death in this poem is based on a real thing that happened; the second stanza deaths were both news items I was made aware of.

Six Ways I Don't Have to Die )


Diane )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Everyone is Fond of Owls)
Apparently this week is "Honours Soujin Doesn't Actually Deserve" week. Ugh.

--my poetry study professor wants to put one of my poems up on the English dept. website, and, I'll be honest, I'm actually deeply flattered and thrilled by this and super excited. That's awesome.

--my religion professor wants me to take my research paper for his class and turn it into a presentation for our liberal arts symposium this spring. This is completely unwarranted, as a) my paper is weirdly ill-defined and not remotely qualified, b) NOT EVEN ACTUALLY WRITTEN YET, and c) talks about intercultural religious issues, which I think are fascinating, but which because I am not actually Islamic consistently make me feel like a Privileged White Western Person talking about Shit I Have No Actual Experience With. So I am terrified. And I don't want the responsibility urgh.

--on a totally different scale, my other religion professor wrote something along the lines of "blah blah you left out a bunch of important stuff in this paper and it's pretty glaring and painful but you can grammar okay so I will give you an A because you need a pat on the back you little dumbass" on my feedback, and I kind of just wish he'd given me a B and not said anything, because it feels gross. The history professor who co-teaches the class with him, when I wept about it to her, said he's been in a really bad mood this semester and super critical of everyone, but it still makes me feel awful.

--I am getting a solid B in Cog Psych, and I'm okay with that, because I thought I was going to do a lot worse.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Narwhals Narwhals Swimmin' in the Ocean)
oh hey look A FERRARI no wait it's more poetry.

Autumnal )


Dogged )


Have I mentioned lately that this poetry study is the best thing that ever happened to me?
psalm_onethirtyone: (The Perfect Pool)
And, in continuation with my plans to become the most boring person alive: more poetry. Poetry very much influenced by [ profile] sockefeller's comics, no less. (Seriously, though, you should read her comics, they're creepy as hell and pretty much awesome.)

Physiology )


More boring, however, than poetry is the fact that I now have a twitter account. So if you are interested in following the fairly inane stream of thoughts that I have on a daily basis, there's that.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Disappointed)
My heart has just been broken, so I'm going to post some poetry from my independent study.

First, two old poems revised:

Apeirophilia (previously Xenophilia) )


Song for a Friend (previously Song for an Old Lover) )


One new poem:

One Week )


And one poem that the professor (correctly) told me could not probably ever be a "good" poem, but "has some interesting ideas, and is an unusual experiment in a new form for you".

Closure )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Mycroftian Horrors)
So I may have written another Sherlock fic. >_> It is really long and a history of Mycroft and has pretty heavily implied Sherlock/Watson. And I needs a beta-reader. >_> So if anyone would possibly not mind doing this, please let me know.

Meanwhile, down to about three finals. I'm actually starting to feel a bit less like killing myself. As a present to myself, I will be re-dyeing my hair this afternoon to bright fuck-off red.

Also, Goldstein e-mailed me my final grade for poetry class, and I got an A. :D So I need to pick up my portfolio and post the rest of my poems, since they went well.
psalm_onethirtyone: (Narwhals Narwhals Swimmin' in the Ocean)

Trans )


Paper Thin Hotel )

**this poem is a tribute to Leonard Cohen, as evidenced by the references to Famous Blue Raincoat, Paper Thin Hotel, and his rather unique singing voice.


Psychophysics )


Apitoxin )


Genesis )
psalm_onethirtyone: (And Didn't it Shine?)
MORE POETRY-DUMPING. Also, sorry, I am going to reply to the comments on my last eighteen-billion posts, I swear to God, I'm just trying to get all my massive quantities of homework done and I'm getting a little behind in things AHHH I am getting there! Sorry!

She Prays to the Black Hole )


Non-Negotiable )


When we chose what secrets to share... )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Found Myself!)
HELLO poetry class has robbed my soul but here is some of my nonsense:

The Stone of Bitterness )


A Bad Poem )


One night while we were drinking... )


When he's in his cups he pulls her into his lap... )


Right now I am redrafting a poem about black holes (assignment: LINE BREAKS) and have yet to start on the assignment about toxic shock syndrome. :D the exciting news is that Dr. Goldstein, who teaches the class, asked if I would like to do independent study with him next year. He said he thought I was one of the best students in the class. I just about died. I really want to say yes, but it's totally irrelevant to my major. Can I justify this? Sigh.
psalm_onethirtyone: (This is My Way out of This)
I'm not sure whether I like this poem or not, so somebody please look at it and tell me whether it sucks. >_<

(Also, why am I still awake? I have to be up to-morrow at seven, and I desperately need a shower.)

Covenant )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Narwhals Narwhals Swimmin' in the Ocean)
I wrote a poem! At two-thirty last night! Ha.

Swan Song )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Found Myself!)
Ethnography )
psalm_onethirtyone: (Dye My Eyes and Call Me Pretty)
I'm home. More later.

Read more... )


psalm_onethirtyone: (Default)

January 2012

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