Riddle

I am enigmatic,
A saying,
A question,
A picture,

I am 1,000 words.
I’m fake Asian food,
I am midnight.

A bag of glitter confetti,
A bowling coupon.
I’m a red chair cushion,
And the shoes on your feet.
Today,

You are easily read,
A book,
An answer,
An image,

You are 1 word,
You are noon,
You’re rice,

A box of computer paper,
A grocery bag,
You’re a white pillow,
And the socks on my feet,
Every day


2010

My Name

In English my name means…..you know what, scratch that. I don’t know what my name really means, and why should I? I mean, there are a lot of people who need to know everything right then and there, and I’m not that kind of person. If I had to take a guess, it might seem to me like a sort of yellow color, maybe a pale blue. My name is morning and I am night, it’s simply not fit for me. My name is not the real me, I am secretive, dark, and deep, much light the cytoplasm of the universe, the darkness that lies between the stars. My name on the other hand, is the bright blue sky and the yellow sunrise, which fit me when I was about five, but I think that I’m just about ready for a change.
It is also my second cousins name too; I can only assume that I was named after her. I always wondered if she was more like the sun or the moon, the morning or the night, midnight or noon. Although she is still alive I have yet to meet her, so I wonder.
There is only one place I will ever go by the name Ellen, and that would be Cotillion. At school my name is Ellie, and I’m not saying I like it, but prefer it over the hard stone sound from my N in Ellen. Ellie is much softer. When someone calls me Ellen I feel either too young or too old, never where I am.
Everyone always says that the name Ellie fits me. I'm not sure why, but I hate that.  When someone tells me that the name Ellie fits me, it makes me think that they do not know the real me at all. They know the School me, the real me does not think that way, use the same vocabulary, or even act the same way. That is why I chose writing, communicating without talking, connecting without sharing... it seems the practice was made for me. I hate public speaking, and I hate fitting in like a cookie cutter. If I were a coloring book and my name were the colors, the crayons markings wouldn’t be even a tiny bit outside the lines. I need something to help me escape my cookie cutter life, something to make me seem more unpredictable, as I hide behind a hesitant conscience.
I would like to baptize myself under a new name, a name that’s less typical of me. I need a name that no one else has... like…Beyonce. I’m not exactly saying I want to be Beyonce, but think about it. How many Beyonces do you know? ONE! I need a name like that. I need a name that, when it's spoken, everyone always knows exactly who they’re talking about. Maybe I would change my name to……… well that’s just it, I don’t know what my name should be, because I thought more and more and finally I realized that which ever name I would choose, I’m going to want to change it later. Although something like Kira or even Beyonce would be nice, soon enough I will want to change it again. So for now I guess I’m coloring inside the lines.


2008

From an Unknown Companion

He has no name to me.
Mender of worlds,
Healer of the universe,
Savior of time.

This Timey-Wimey
Glob of goop
Could so effortlessly
Be under his control.

But he’ll just stop
And watch it go.

Too much time
To reflect, I suppose.

He’s content
To watch and wonder.

Let him go.
Keep your gun.

We, the people of the earth,
Sunken to the bottom.
Left behind,
Drifting,
Gravity yanks us
Away from the unknown.

Crystallization.
Saturating,
Crusting and crumbling
Our shoes to the floor.
The cytoplasm of the universe,
Waiting,
So disturbed and so unheard of,
But I’ve seen it now.


2010