secretary (draft)

it is all yellow-green lighting
that blinks and sparks
mimicking heels, the tip tap tip tap
a seizure waiting to happen
illuminating 50's pencil skirts
and hips when women had hips
Blips and slips, I balance precariously
in heels that blister and pop
I raise my chin, I channel
Katherine and His Girl Friday
Only this fella
has more recently seen another film
prior to searching for a Secretary.

I follow the cheap
pantsuit to his office
I am wearing the one white blouse
button down I own
I hold my lungs, every breath
threatens indecency
expansive breasts swollen
on they're monthly schedule
the trenton-bound 5:45 pm
pressing against fabric
suburban lusts and crust
on the faux leather seats

please, miss, have a seat.

it is a tracking shot,
the camera follows
almost up my dress
but it's not me it's
some bondage model
a Veronica Lake- wannabe
puke green filing cabinets
twisting, labyrinthine corridor
I suspect nothing.

film noir, no accordion in sight
tarrantino funny, then splatter
something's the matter
he fingers my resume, eyes my lips
I get the feeling this man
the man behind the desk yellow pit stains
dollar store tie and paper clip to
his pucker, contorted lip
I get the feeling this man
wants me not as an assistant
but as a lady, a tramp, then
tossed out, broken lamp
begging for food stamps
lapping up the gutter-spill
he wants me akimbo, a bimbo
but he asks about dic-
tation speeds and typing tests

later on the way back to bensonhurst
the train teeters on the yellow line
I realize that the advertisement
was all a ploy for a perverted man
who owned too many filing cabinets
and not enough honestly-bared breasts

two days later he calls
the job has been filled
but would I ever consider
letting him place a camera
under the rim of my toilet seat
or perhaps leave one on
while getting undressed before bed?

I am twenty-three
Lips painted Betty Page red
Reclining on rented bed
Russian on the street, winter falling
Outside it is a blizzard
the train can't move in the sky
It is Siberia, it is Chernobyl
I burn my degree, I vomit my pedigree
I tongue my blood line
Consider my options
And tell him maybe next year
If all else fails
I'll let this rich man
watch me shit.

residual

You left your shadow in my dream
A silk, a silhouette on my floor
Feet sunk into soft as I stood
As I climbed from my bed
and continued my search

You are residual
In my residence, I chance
circumstance
I dive under water
maybe I see you only
when delving into
altered consciousness

In my nightmares I am aware
In my nightmares I claw at my arms
I hear killers at my door
In my nightmares I throw myself into walls
Hurl myself into the mantle
Precariously leap from fire escapes
I warble and marble and babble
wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up wake up

(draft)

Curvatures and back bends
I add spices and stir, dizzy
I want to be loved for me
Still I give you "her"
Whomever I think it is
I need to be for you

contort and distort
I examine and bend
Japanese game show
human tetris
let me fit in your
sweet, sweet spot

Cherry tree, I'll tattoo me
blossoms abloom on skin
Maybe you like adore my lampshade
Maybe you'll ignore my narcissism
Maybe you'll applaud my performance
Hand me Oscars and make love like statues

I can shrink even as I expand
Constrict, restrict
Masks and perfuming of the sour, rotten
I am meat in your bed
Pounded flat and rubbed with lemon
Pepper in my eyes, salty to the taste
I confirm dessert to be served
On my lips, on my lips, on my sweet sweet lips

lights on (draft)

I leave lights on
I wander room to room
I sing and occasionally spin.
Embers to my amber and faults set to cringe.

The cat is in heat
It's not her fault
but yet I scream at her
to stop her incessant lust.

I leave lights on
I bore myself and bury myself in weight
I invite others, I throw them my keys
Lovers to my laborless and paper to my subtle burn.

Moonless and flavorless
Brooklyn night finds the dark
It wrings out the stars
It drinks warm milk
And grinds its teeth

Hand to cold, uninsulated glass
I'd like to be a part of this, please
I am coming apart, I am set apart
I am related and retarded and relative
I could fall just as fast as your feathers
I could whisper, I could wallow, I shall follow

Razor to peach fuzz
Eden's garden I once was
Before revenge and rape
Eden's garden I once was
Before twins crashed and
Candles burned all night
in coffee cans and
styrofoam cups, held in children's hands

I leave lights on
I wander the rooms
I scream at cats
I lift and leave and lie
I lie, I lie, I lie
I won't look you in the eye,
Great sun
I won't tongue your sour
I won't lick your sweet
I fear I shall spin and wind and cocoon
thirty year old girl in a case of candy glass

Just, perhaps, to be safer
Just, perchance, to be saner
Sidestepping life I reject your reality
Shower on, windows wide open
Glade "spring showers" air freshener full bloom
I run through the rain
I carve jewelry out of stone
Herniated hermit, la bouche a blaze

I could love you
I could love you
I could love you
I could love you

Without razor blades
Without midnight terror
Without insecure restrictions
Without bitter after taste
Without repressive residue

Yes, I could love you
I could love you
I could love
you.

I shall leave the lights on.

Apply Within

I seek a lover
like an Afghan Whigs song
like Aiden to Sarah's Carrie
Yeah I seek a lover
raspy and clean and
sideways grinning

I probably could fall for you
if you could empty your arms
long enough and strong enough
to catch me
I probably could long for you
if you could open your mind
long enough to teach me to
close my mouth

I seek a lover
please apply within
I seek a lover
who plays my body like a guitar
or a wide-bodied cello
leaning against his thigh

Trying to catch up

My website and blog have been neglected!

Right now just running around going to tons of shows (two more next week and one the week after so far) for National Poetry Month & such. Pimping out the anthology and my book and trying to book performers for upcoming events. Having a frenchman living with me and trying to show him around the city. Hopefully heading back to work next week on a movie. Working on my next chapbook of my own work and the chapbook of another super talented writer.

Mmmmmmm yeah. Will have to do some updating tomorrow! I need a nap today!

PRESS RELEASE - BEST OF STAIN - CENTRAL NY VERSION

ATTENTION: News Director/Art Editor/Book Reviews & Events
FROM: TANGLED UP IN BLUE PRODUCTIONS
RE: THE BEST OF STAIN ANTHOLOGY, VOLUME ONE (FEATURING WRITERS FROM CORTLAND, NY)
April 14, 2009


FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE

THE BEST OF STAIN, AN ANTHOLOGY EDITED BY & FEATURING WRITERS FROM CORTLAND (JASON MADISON, CARRIE VANDENBURG & DARCIE VANHAMLIN)TO BE RELEASED ON APRIL 20th - PRE-SALE ORDERS AVAILABLE

Brooklyn, New York. On April 20th, 2009 Tangled Up In Blue Productions will release The Best of Stain, an anthology of poetry and lyrics that features former Cortland residents Jason Madison, Carrie VanDenburg, and Darcie VanHamlin. The Best of Stain highlights some of the most memorable performers at the Williamsburg, Brooklyn-based literary and music series, Stained Glass Confessional. SGC and its sister series, An Echo, A Stain, have been featured in The New York Daily News, Time Out, New York, AM-NY, The Greenpoint Greenline, and The Brooklyn Eagle. Both series take place at Stain Bar at 766 Grand Street in Williamsburg, Brooklyn. They regularly feature some of the best indie musicians and poets on the literary scene today, including Madison, VanHamlin, and VanDenburg.

Other musicians and writers included in the chapbook are: Swampan Basu, Janice Brabaw (formerly of St. Lawrence County, NY), Patricia Carragon, Mike Fiorito, Roxanne Hoffman, Valerie Jupe, Laurel Kallen, Nina Karacosta, series host James Kass, Frank Kelly, Jee Leong Koh, Harry Bentivenga Lichtenstein, Nick Loss-Eaton (of the band Leland Sundries), Puma Perl, James Skidmore and Joe Yoga.

On April 20th, a book release party will be held at Stain Bar at the latest installment of Stained Glass Confessional. Host James Kass and curator Janice Brabaw will welcome to the stage musicians Lizzah Lohse, Mike Fiorito, and James Skidmore as well as poets Laurel Kallen, Jessica Reed, and Nina Karacosta. The show is FREE although donations for the featured readers are appreciated. The show begins at eight with an open mic from 7-8. A door raffle for a free copy of the anthology will take place.

THE BEST OF STAIN is available NOW for pre-order at Brabaw's website - www.JaniceBrabaw.com and at Stain Bar in Brooklyn, New York. $5/piece or $7 including shipping.

More information on the writers, Stained Glass Confessional, An Echo, A Stain, and Brabaw are available at www.JaniceBrabaw.com

AUTHOR BIOS

Carrie VanDenburg has been writing poetry since the 8th grade. She has been an editor of and been published in two college creative writing journals: Revisions and She's Aloud and was involved in creative writing groups in her undergraduate colleges. Currently, she spends most of her energy in graduate school studying social work but hopes to someday combine her love of creative writing with her love of helping people. Carrie lives in Flatbush, Brooklyn with her roommate and two cats.

Darcie VanHamlin is a very talented photographer and writer originally from Cortland, New York. Her photos can be found at http://darciepix.com/

Jason Madison was born in Nyack, raised in Cortland, attended Syracuse University, and now resides in Brooklyn, New York. Jason is a talented comic artist, actor, music composer, graphic designer, and musician. He has played and written for The Scurvy Pirates, Devil Schlock, Bigbooté, and currently is the singer/guitarist of the New York band, Dig My Grave. Learn more about Jason at http://jasonmadison.weebly.com