Top 5 things to do now that it sort of looks and feels like spring.
1. Change struts
No, not the ones on your car. Your walk. Now that the weather allows you more mobility and less layers, show off that Christian-like-fierce-hot-tranny-mess walk you've been practicing.
2. Rotate your mattress
It has springs. It's about to be spring. So if you haven't done it lately now would be a good time to do it. I read it in a Martha Stewart magazine. 
3. Make spring rolls
Eat something as fresh as the air. Learn how to make it here.
4. Be color coordinated
Try to welcome spring with bright colors. Pick one color and accessorize accordingly. Like yellow. Yellow is a good spring color. But don't go overboard or you'll look like one of those babies dressed in a bumblebee outfit.
5. Write a haiku. Or have one of your writer buddies write you a haiku. (In this case, Kevin Almasy)
comes like a lion
shovels of snow, rainy days
leaving like a lamb
Now get to it. -Lizelle
7 comments:
lizelle i love you
does this poem make me look fat?
it is a haiku
In honor of Spring, I humbly submit Basho's greatest hits:
A monk sips morning tea,
it's quiet,
the chrysanthemum's flowering
First day of spring--
I keep thinking about
the end of autumn
Along the roadside,
blossoming wild roses
in my horse’s mouth
O bush warblers!
Now you’ve shit all over
my rice cake on the porch
Yes, spring has come
This morning a nameless hill
Is shrouded in mist.
Come out to view the truth of flowers blooming
in poverty
I've got to tell you
how I love you always
I think of it on grey
mornings with death
in my mouth the tea
is never hot enough
then and the cigarette
dry the maroon robe
chills me I need you
and look out the window
at the noiseless snow
At night on the dock
the buses glow like
clouds and I am lonely
thinking of flutes
I miss you always
when I go to the beach
the sand is wet with
tears that seem mine
although I never weep
and hold you in my
heart with a very real
humor you'd be proud of
the parking lot is
crowded and I stand
rattling my keys the car
is empty as a bicycle
what are you doing now
where did you eat your
lunch and were there
lots of anchovies it
is difficult to think
of you without me in
the sentence you depress
me when you are alone
Last night the stars
were numerous and today
snow is their calling
card I'll not be cordial
there is nothing that
distracts me music is
only a crossword puzzle
do you know how it is
when you are the only
passenger if there is a
place further from me
I beg you do not go
dear anonymous
you brighten my day its true
leave me your comment
Every day you play with the light of the universe.
Subtle visitor, you arrive in the flower and the water.
You are more than this white head that I hold tightly
as a cluster of fruit, every day, between my hands.
You are like nobody since I love you.
Let me spread you out among yellow garlands.
Who writes your name in letters of smoke among the stars of the south?
Oh let me remember you as you were before you existed.
Suddenly the wind howls and bangs at my shut window.
The sky is a net crammed with shadowy fish.
Here all the winds let go sooner or later, all of them.
The rain takes off her clothes.
The birds go by, fleeing.
The wind. The wind.
I can contend only against the power of men.
The storm whirls dark leaves
and turns loose all the boats that were moored last night to the sky.
You are here. Oh, you do not run away.
You will answer me to the last cry.
Cling to me as though you were frightened.
Even so, at one time a strange shadow ran through your eyes.
Now, now too, little one, you bring me honeysuckle,
and even your breasts smell of it.
While the sad wind goes slaughtering butterflies
I love you, and my happiness bites the plum of your mouth.
How you must have suffered getting accustomed to me,
my savage, solitary soul, my name that sends them all running.
So many times we have seen the morning star burn, kissing our eyes,
and over our heads the gray light unwind in turning fans.
My words rained over you, stroking you.
A long time I have loved the sunned mother-of-pearl of your body.
I go so far as to think that you own the universe.
I will bring you happy flowers from the mountains, bluebells,
dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses.
I want
to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
Re: Martha Stewart:
Pivot! PIVOT!
I heart Lizelle Din
Gus likes to smell her goodness
he wears a polo
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