And to start: a poem

I've given myself the task of starting this blog. I have a degree in Creative Writing and my fingers freeze over the keyboard when I think about having to write for an audience who is essentially, the entire world (and whatever alien life forms are secretly tracking our existence). I think this must be the crux of my blogger's block. It's one thing to write for an enthusiastic small classroom of ten, but the world!? Pressure is on. So I thought I'd start with a little warm up--or cheating-- and post a poem that I've already written. This poem was published this pasts year for the Syracuse Cultural Workers, 2009 Women's Date Book. A publication for peace, justice, equality and all sorts of other warm and fuzzy good things. But the best was the check they sent for the grand sum of $125. Follow the link and you'll find my poem first under the "dedication spread." I hope you'll all be inspired to submit a poem yourself. (There will be a book signing following this blog.)

Misread

I'm laughing, but I don't think it's funny. 

People explain my words to me. They say 

My face is an open book. How unfair. 

Blue eyes and big teeth, that's my face. 

That's not me. My skin says I'm Caucasian, 

But maybe I want to be blue. A cool blue,

The color of tropical water rippling beneath 

A palm tree shadow.

I have small ears, 

Do you think that means I can't hear you?

Well I do. 
I hear you loud and clear. 

And I laugh out loud with my big teeth showing

And my blue eyes squinting. Because I can hear you, 

You and your tone, your condescending jokes 

And your patronizing explanations.

I'm laughing, but I'm not amused.

My squinting eyes can see you. My big teeth want to bite you. 

This face ain't no open book. This face is cliff notes

To the book you never took the time to read.