tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63611262024-03-08T13:36:29.222-05:00The Collected Works of...not so daily writingsKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.comBlogger202125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-46653670858305692212016-03-08T18:31:00.000-05:002016-09-01T18:33:52.212-04:00I am in an Underground Sea
I am in an
Underground Sea
Pain floating riot
drugs on drugs
floating
menthol vapors
incense
coffee whiskey
prayers
meditations
quotations
transcend art
suffering
body and an
internet
puppy meme
I write,
eyes rolled up
to brow
p’s be
come b’s
waves of sea on
seas
sex-less ache
washes
down dirty left
useless arm
traveling
without destination, fool
fucker
Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-79279625903338420922015-10-22T10:37:00.001-04:002015-10-24T11:52:53.295-04:00In Case You Are Interested
In Case You Are Interested
In case you are interested
I made this cup of tea, for me
But I will share –
You
Know
What
They
Say, about
Buts Shoulds
and Try
Try not to think too
too much about
such silly little small
silly things, in any case
in case
you are interested,
I will be over
here
Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-86565177960456986482015-10-20T02:30:00.000-04:002015-10-24T12:07:41.922-04:00Snake Inside
Snake Inside
I have a snake inside
Me belly
Snake
Snake
Snake inside
My belly it's
Awake
The snake
Inside with
This n dat of that
this
What to do what to
Do here
Do you snake
Snake inside
Awake awake
Alone
At night
Late late
That night
Lake late
Dat snake
Inside
Wake wake
Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-78652990107098477182015-07-07T11:54:00.000-04:002015-10-24T11:56:12.849-04:00Standing on One of the New Whitney's Outdoor GalleriesStanding on One of the New Whitney's Outdoor Galleries
since feeling is first
who cares how the wind
makes love to the trees, running
its gentle fingers through leaves
all that matters now
is how that same breeze
draws stray hairs across your face
as you turn your head to look
at me -
that smile
wider than any skyscraper vertical,
brighter, than any
known Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-79923722037484287922015-07-04T09:57:00.000-04:002015-07-13T10:16:02.522-04:00What My Father LivedWhat My Father Lived
Time stopped.
My Father stood still
at the edge of a dock
built by his own hands
nearly three decades ago
"You forgot to ask," He said.
My knuckles white-locked
around the steering wheel, his tone
calm, despite the forty-two miles per hour down the 10 mph dirt cottage road
"The Fear," I said. We both knew.
He wasn't them, my father, and
he was. Every lastKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-55147045964774201932015-06-24T10:00:00.000-04:002015-07-13T10:16:28.089-04:00UnbornUnborn
How barren the fruit
Of this life un lived.
How much garbage
has filled the veins
where rich blood
would have flowed?
Instead, the heart
Choked. Withered.
Dying on the vine
just as
my womb, a grave
for the child unborn
Better off, lest he inherit
these selfish, female
genes.Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-90371637963975743732015-04-01T02:00:00.000-04:002015-10-22T10:48:16.573-04:00To YouTo you that has broken
I bow in gratitude to you who has
broken my heart and crushed my
spirit - you have helped crack open
my heart and I can further awaken my
spirit
I will live happy, more joyfully, with this
open broken heartKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-26984176934020814652015-02-14T22:42:00.000-05:002015-10-22T10:51:12.693-04:00Break-up Haiku No. 124, No. 101, and No. 36Break-up Haiku No. 124
Going nowhere fast
I have run miles for you. Jerk.
You fucking treadmill.
Break-up Haiku No. 101
Peg you, you say. Huh.
Such requests are telling now.
Enjoy your new boy.
Break-up Haiku No. 36
First real Post-You fuck
Body smiles, stretches, echoes
Remembering breathKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-79913193675624997262015-01-07T10:03:00.000-05:002015-07-13T10:15:07.741-04:00This War Moves ThroughThis War Moves ThroughThis time the war moves, through
like a raven in my head
I woke up one morning and the world wasn’t there
Bird of prey, fed fat on the energy of the wounded,
Grounded, outside my door
a Single gunshot ripped out, cut across two generationsThis is why I never knew my father’s father –
A blind man, his best friend, last saw himAlive. Hunting. The two of them. That day
Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-42438482280357531272015-01-06T10:10:00.000-05:002015-07-13T10:13:18.728-04:00Where Once There Was StoneWhere Once There Was StoneI want to get inside my chestLay my body down, straddle it - a Rapist, a Lover,Witch Doctor with blunt instrument, To hit and hitagainst rib cage until skin breaks, Turns, bone and bloodPools where once there was no spaceGet inside - smash and openTo breathe, for the first time
Look with innocence, longingly. Gee, there is a heart in there and Yes it beats. StillI hate Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-28326492467570795042014-11-14T11:02:00.000-05:002015-10-22T11:02:38.242-04:00In The Laboratory For Letting GoIn The Laboratory For Letting GoI cannot do this anymore.To me, to you.Our tongues move like clockwork,Following the old paths of arguments past, injustices grooved into the road bywounded tires that never seem to wearoff those damn treadsWords are the same, even if spelled backwardsThere is nothing more to do here.No loss could feel greater than this shame I carry -In blaming you, I shame Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-23665432955168670212014-11-11T10:08:00.000-05:002015-07-13T10:12:21.864-04:00In the Hallway of EveryoneIn the Hallway of Everyone
In the Hallway of Everyone
there is a compass that turns
Left by Day Right by Night
in the Hallway of Everyone, everyone is no one and no one is Everyone
Over and over Again, mirrors line up and point to
Infinity. This is who you ever were and will be again.
There is nothing more to be done here.Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-76791909852217591522014-02-05T14:22:00.001-05:002015-10-22T11:07:09.338-04:00It Was Beautiful, Then (#latervision)It was beautiful / It is beautiful
Time eventually gave up
and slipped away
Our skin grew light and transparent, dissolving
Two beings intertwined energetically
No backwards no forwards
Just.
Being. With you,
I felt drunk, intoxicated
Yet I was 20 days sober,
and with that clarity rang an all-knowing vision, intuition
Our past, our future - lives lined up like books on a shelf -
We knew Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-32533163003106387982014-02-05T14:22:00.000-05:002015-10-22T11:03:43.496-04:00So You Will Have Faith In Meso you will have faith in me
so you have faith in me
i will wear my battle scars as beauty marks
i will kiss every enemy good night on the forehead
i will clean my house with intention, clarify with wisdom and sage
i will bend in the places that are frozen, open to feel the wounds of cracked bones and torn flesh
i will love suffering and treat her as a child that needs to be held,
Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-63988907706001045972011-12-06T20:58:00.000-05:002015-10-22T10:52:08.968-04:00haiku, for nowThe leaves fall - rake time
Again, a bit of world dies
Rake them up. Again, spring.
Addendum:
This is the belated fall.
Let's see what is lost and what shall be sewn
into summer day dreams of what
was then was nowKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-12677142541386340172011-09-17T14:22:00.000-04:002015-10-22T11:01:25.307-04:00I am the Ordinary
The Ordinary
I am all of the ordinary things
You put into a box, and store away
“to deal with later”
I am all of the ordinary things
that tangle
with other ordinary things, Living
in the junk drawer, waiting to be used –
Visible only when searching for the scissors, or a rubber band,
a part of the mess, a nuisance
You are the flashlight
that sees only what it wants –
all else Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-90840361750380435722011-07-07T22:23:00.004-04:002012-01-28T20:34:16.339-05:00Unusual Spending on HomeOften, I have found
a locus, a fly, a cockroach – dead, yet
whole on the ground
the body of the insect dry as a tomb
empty, like so many robbed graves
a Sailboat, a Motorboat, another Sailboat
each covered with tattered, weathered wings – a blue tarp
spread across its carapace
This strip of land is a place where dreams go to die,
good intentions to fix, repair, rebuild, reuse, Resurrect
 Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-68046445046403634502010-05-06T15:25:00.000-04:002010-05-06T15:25:20.249-04:00for my sisterWe are made out of
the parts of our parents, yes.
Their dreams. Their hopes. Their aspirations for themselves
unachieved.
The fights, the battles, the wounds,
scars and
Scabs
that make perfect Flesh
for the next generation
Over generations, the template of our parents’ parents
has only slightly reconfigured
with time –
a few changes, some patches,
no enhancements, Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-90414014046197806172009-08-20T15:29:00.003-04:002009-11-06T13:13:42.499-05:00hopefully blogging is on its way outso i can get back to writing here. jumped ship really in 2004 since the surge of drops in the bucket became too much. inspired to write again upon meeting Simon Morris, Robert Fitterman, and Kenneth Goldsmith (well, virtually via Simon's excellent documentary).
uncreative writing just might be the way for me to start writing again. that, and the fact that i've committed myself to an intenseKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-69072804833394372762009-06-10T05:03:00.001-04:002009-06-10T05:06:07.818-04:00should i get a face-lift?revisit the idea of writing on this blog? eh....what do you think? comments welcome.Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-81041664684314919062008-02-21T21:33:00.002-05:002008-02-21T21:35:20.017-05:00Love in the time of..."Most people deceive themselves with a pair of faiths: they believe in eternal memory(of people, things, deeds, nations)and in redressibility (of deeds, mistakes, sins, wrongs).Both are false faiths.In reality the opposite is true:everything will be forgottenand nothing will be redressed."-Milan KunderaKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-66007072678568579602008-02-01T12:27:00.000-05:002008-02-01T14:24:24.864-05:00It's around this time of yearIt's around this time of yearthat the dust gathers itselfand starts its not-so-silent marchback into the memories of the people that so diligentlylaid those little bunnies to restIt's around this time of yearthat the shades of pink that break through the gray of the horizon, seem so precious, so rarepeople are grateful for their tryingIt's around this time of yearthat the ability to keep up one'sKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-44612395304617082502008-02-01T12:05:00.000-05:002008-02-01T12:14:43.615-05:00No one expects to hear a thing herebecause I have been so inactive for so long. I think as the masses of voices started to take over the airwaves back in late 2004/early 2005, I felt it was a good time to retreat. And there's always the question of when it is appropriate to wear a veil of anonymity. Frankly, I stopped wanting to establish a particular voice online once I got about 4 months into it, back in early 2004. I saw Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-28550655511566453052008-01-31T23:52:00.000-05:002008-02-01T12:20:49.610-05:00Thinking about the same thing tonight......as in June. This time the lyrics were from a They Might Be Giants song, Lucky Ball and Chain that I've been listening to for 18 (yikes!) years now. The line is this:Sure as you can steer a train/You can change your fateSad to say I never gave that much thought to the train in the lyric, and the verb "to steer." But actually I think I missed the meaning in that line because I was fixated on Kathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6361126.post-64093961240979527612007-12-31T22:56:00.000-05:002007-12-31T22:58:22.905-05:00the partybest movie ever (right now)the partyKathryn Corneliushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/07184496384707048073noreply@blogger.com0