I'm really tired tonight. I just finished watching Annie Hall, the Woody Allen film and I feel as neurotic as those characters just through osmosis. But I have to admit I was pleasantly surprised by the movie since I tend to have luke warm feelings about W.A films.

I miss my creative writing classes a lot. I just discovered a box full of short stories and poems in the basement at my parent's place. I distinctly remember writing this poem, frustrated with the assignment.

I am all sorts of random this evening. I need a good long vacation.

Fell down screaming into the sky
With every fiber of her being she tore
The rain from the sky.
The mountains crumbled
The Sea, swirling as if the drain plug

Had been

P

U

L L

E D

The banshee cries vibrated her throat into pieces
Yet she continued, non-plussed
While the world ripped itself apart

She H O W L E D
There was no longer noise in the vacuum she created

Her chest heeeeaved with the force of her self-loathing
Her Chhhesssssstt expanded in sequence
With the erratic mutterings heard in her mind
A ritual call fills the abyss, the dark
The rain falls again mingling with the dried earth
The basin fills with the sea where it all began
Rises. Rises. RISES.
The rocks shudder and shake

They grooooooan back into their splendor
Slowly, oh so slowly the world re-knits

Its BRO KEN h AlveS
She leaped. She stepped. She fell.

Off the edge
Into the tumbling, careening PAINful darkness
Just to know she could still feel.
(11.28.06)