(no subject)

I was going to begin "less self-indulgently", but no, this is pretty much just as self-indulgent.

Somebody rec me a DC superheroes book, because right now I'm buying Runaways, Teen Titans, Buffy, and Supernatural and I want something a little closer to the Batbooks.

I normally read BOP in the shop since I lost track of what was happening and now I don't even know who's on the team, and I can't decide if I want to pick it up again or not since Gail Simone's moving to Wonder Woman. What's Sean McKeever like? I note he's doing TT too, so I hope he doesn't suck.

Speaking of Wonder Woman, should I buy/download Jodi Picoult's stuff? I don't really care about Diana, so I haven't, but if it's brilliant or whatever I might start trying. Especially since Simone's taking it over.

I sometimes read Robin in the shop, but more often than not lately I chuck it down in disgust. :-/ I miss Steph. I miss Tim, which is kind of a worry. I haven't been following Nightwing (although I did read last month's issue and thought it was OK but didn't really thrill me).

So um, somebody rec me something? Mebbe?

(no subject)

for posterity, comments, crit etc:

[some placeholder title]

I saw a tree with five birdsnests.
from the bus I reached out my giant hand
and inspected their insides for you.

dolly parton was good music for our weather,
so I sang along to two doors down while
burning the midnight oil. you were jolene,
my happiness depended on you. so what did you
decide to do?

while I walked home one evening the frost arrived.
it slicked wetly down the bricks as I opened your door,
pretending it had just rained. then
glitter spread across each street and brick.
when I saw the light at my windows the tips of the grass
had aged and grown beards.

(I don't really know what to do with this one. I like each bit of it but I don't know if they're the same poem, or different poems, or what.)

love poem

I am enamoured of your geometry. each
plane and polyhedron has meaning to me.
in my more frivolous moments, I plot
the curves along your breasts, your hips.
you add up for me.
I have read and calculated every line
in your skin, every fold and dip and angle, where
your bones are visible through the skin
and where I feel your blood with the
tip of my tongue. I join the dots of your freckles
and blemishes and each scar, find familiar
constellations and name them. the palm
of your right hand, which you use to open doors
and windows, cook and write, tells me
your past. your left hand is your soon-to-be.
and here you are, my now.

(this one's a complete first draft and I quite like a lot of it. what say you all? radical comments accepted happily enough.)

( cut for a very very dramatic rewrite of something I wrote here earlier )