Cami Park

Posts Tagged ‘Sleep’


In Confessional, Poetry, Prose on September 27, 2010 at 7:36 am

At Night
Matthew Shindell

Though I wouldn’t tell her
I see tattooed ships
across her breasts,

from the main,
a sailor appears in her sleep
and hands me scrimshaw
wrapped in butcher’s paper.
Until morning we arrange
shells into sentences
that I send away
as ransom notes.


In Celebrity, Film, Poetry on January 15, 2010 at 12:01 am

[felled like cloven lumber]

Friday double feature

In Film, Music, Science on January 7, 2010 at 8:57 pm

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

Laughs already like a bear

In Art, How to, Poetry on January 5, 2010 at 7:52 pm

Giving Birth
Mary de Rachewiltz

Now She knows what it feels like
24 hours of it & all for a mere girl
when She had expected a male heir.
Has seen so far only the hands &
they are beautiful—laughs already
like a bear, wrapped as a Della Robbia
infant in glazed porcelain on the cornice
of the Loggia degli Innocenti.

Nobody thought of the bottle
nor told her to put a drop of honey
on her teat as She saw the nurse do
when It sucked voraciously.
He better come if He wants to and see
what’s left of It—will hardly survive
another week—& to find a name for It
is his job. I call It Contrary.

Thus entered the world at loggerheads.


In Confessional, List, Music on January 3, 2010 at 4:36 pm

All I’ve been wanting is sleep. I’m not tired, and still I want sleep. And no, television is not the same.

Reasons fall apart

In Confessional, List, Music on December 29, 2009 at 11:07 pm

I’ll sleep just like a match inside
Your paper lantern heart

Lizzle 1 & 2

In Art, Film, Music on December 27, 2009 at 5:31 pm

Art by Amy Earles

Lucia, Luis, and the Wolf

In Art, Exes, Film on November 15, 2009 at 9:40 am

Vodpod videos no longer available.

It was like he didn’t talk about everything.

Vodpod videos no longer available.

During the night, all the sounds are louder.


In Dream, Household, Sex on October 30, 2009 at 6:31 am

The dream was sexual. There was a death. A Nigerian looking man. The last thing before waking, trying to  fold a stained towel.

Gas Town

In Advice, Photography, Prose on October 7, 2009 at 3:27 am
The Dark

The Dark