Rawr rawr rawr, She-bear

You GUYS. In case you didn't know, Sun Bears are like, totally my power animal. Like. Totally.
I'm way into determining one's own power animal. You observe the creatures of nature, and say to yourself- If I were to strip myself of this human form, and all my behaviors I've learned via school, movies, downtown, musical theatre camp- what animal would I most closely resemble?
If I were to channel my wild instincts into a wild animal, it would totally be a Sun Bear (aka Honey Bears).
You DON'T want to mess with these guys. Look how ferocious this one is.


 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y18EcgSVYNw&feature=related

Bucket loads of "awwwwwww"!
I mean....
Yeah. You mess with the Jess and you're asking for trouble. 
I'm for serious. They may be the world's tiniest bears, and so damn cuddly that you just want to punch through your computer screen and squeeze them, but baby- there are claws. They might be under a whole pile of cute, but... There are totally claws.

Oh man, who wants bear hugs? Did you see that guy??

Dickinson - I am not

The good lord did not see fit to make me a writer, but that hasn't stopped me from rambling on. There's a danger to having a blog, but at the same time- its a good way to humble yourself and not get so caught up in whatever image you're trying to project at the moment. The proof is all there- what kind of person you were, who you are and what you'll probably become. To my horror and delight, I reviewed my older entries and present the proof of what a lousy, goofball writer I was (am). Keep it humble, keep it real.

Love.

March

And I drove past the wetlands
all frozen over,
with waves of brown grass stretching their arms upward
as though to say,
" Try and hold me down with your cold hands
and I'll show you the true force of nature!"

In a Town Outside of Las Vegas

Stretch your arms across the dirt

and take a deep breath-

"You know what that smell is?"

Suzanne cracks a smile

and spits watermelon seeds

through her two front teeth.

"That's something we used to know"

She throws her hips to the side

and stretches her limbs

claws out

eyes closed.

Ah, regret becomes a fantasy

as she leans in close

"Don't be afraid now, honey".

Tattoo

She's a Confederate Mama
with a tweety bird tattoo.
She keeps her deer meat in the freezer
and she once punched a hole
right through her pawpaw's liquor cabinet.

Time's Cradle

Rhonda May sits in her sandbox
digging up objects that
should probably be forgotten.
A dead mouse, a cat turd,
a boxcar, a doll's head,
keys to a Pontiac grand am-
teal blue and dented on one side-,
a whale shaped cup, birthday candles,
ballet slippers and candy wrappers,
the alternate ending to Old Yeller,
five original poems by Jessica Clark
(destroy them! quick!)
River Phoenix's ghost,
Pride and Regret,
the road to Atlantis,
a greasy spoon
and Santa's bells.
Rhonda May contemplates her sandbox
and wonders why it isn't an ocean.

In Place of Peach Ice Cream


We walked the path that leads to the bus station
and we stopped to pick green apples off the tree.
A storm had come through the night before,
knocking blueberries out of their mother's arms
and the dust turned black beneath our feet
as we crushed them where they lay.

http://listen.grooveshark.com/#/playlist/July/31743704