Day 41 of this “yoga challenge.” Have I lost weight? I don’t know, I don’t ever weigh myself. I rely on how far down I can bend, or how good my clothes fit. I feel good, with pangs of strangenesses pummeling my body. A migraine, a sharp pain in my gut, a broken finger, a…… Continue reading the finite self is a lie and I’m yawning
The start of Fall, Libra season. The last time anything felt “normal” was in March—Pisces season, when the planets were in retrograde and I was at a bar at midnight on a Wednesday after a shift at work. Today, I am unemployed, sober, and looking forward to the equinox and all the memories this time…… Continue reading they’ll clap when you’re gone
I did it—again, I left two out of three social media(s). I feel triumphant and lame, mostly because it seems like such a benign thing to “accomplish.” But, my everything is suffering. I feel beat down and most people know me as the smiling woman and right now all I wanna do is cry. I’ve…… Continue reading bye Instagram. bye Facebook. sup Twitter?
Yes folx, I did it. I made the move. It was hard to do it, mostly because I thought I was losing integrity. But, quite the opposite feeling took over me, and I am so grateful to be doing this. I already write daily, so—that part is easy. Here is the link in case you…… Continue reading Patreon!?
Billie Holiday plays from the record player, and my tie-dye shirt is baffled at the contrast, at the serenity of the music and the chaos of the traffic below, where does the clarinet fit in? Fears, well they, they are the end of everything. I have so many and I am constantly reminded that I…… Continue reading a day like any other day
barren fur soft cadaver in pieces a puzzle, a lantern in eyes instead of candles to move around a house you’ve already memorized, lipped red a scandal in the bedroom, a subtlety in grocery aisles— unmarked but stolen from, you are a bank robbed and feathers plucked you are all that makes annihilation and nothing…… Continue reading a day without pain
there are certain things that stick, San Gabriel Valley things, that sink into a poem… this is a drink and a cheers for a moment in time, I want to leave behind— Valley Blvd., 605 duck farm, Bassett, unincorporated “town,” in or near or alongside La Puente which translates to Bridge, and known among the locals as Bridgetown……… Continue reading pungent
google search me under Ingrid Calderon and the girl with no eyebrows appears, crooked stance, straight smile—a carving in the fold of her cleavage/ google search me under Ingrid M. Calderon-Collins, and the woman with eyebrows appears,spine erect, crooked smile—a carving in the fold of her cleavage/ still, everything isunhappiness and happinessstill lives in the breasts of my laughter,poison sometimes cures, and when it doesn’t,it resembles bread squished between palms,blood on nailbeds and scars from when I mattered so…… Continue reading google search me
speak basic and listen to the flowery poets of our time, the ones that say so much with so much and so much and say nothing at all. the ones that hate Bukowski but love Cheesecake Factory, yes you, I see you, but I still love you, because unlike you, I know everyone is flawed…… Continue reading allusion of illusion
I woke up on the other side of eyelidswhere all the people and events reclinecoagulated into a mess of y’all and let’s go! Anthony Bourdain has preoccupied my mind for a few days, so has the cover of my new book, a few enemies and the eventual perhaps of Paris. Exes and hexes Juvenile excitement of the small…… Continue reading Bourdain and I in Paris with a book (a dream)