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Terri Guillemets
Archives — 1990
This is the archive of my publicly published writing from 1990 — the good, the bad, the active and the
I suffer from pendulum feelings.
TITLE: Sway
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Jan 3
The sun is nature's antidepressant.
DATE: 1990 Jan 20
NOTES: revised
what more pleasant sensation
than sunshine on skin —
spirit and flesh drinking in
nature's pure golden light
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Apr 24
LOCATION: PҺoenᎥᶍ ArᎥɀønα
NOTES: revised
I've had such bad insomnia the sleep cops have issued a warrant for my rest.
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Mar 3
He asked to meet
He wanted to talk
He tried to kiss me
He tried to grab
We parted ways
He was mad
That I wouldn't
Give him anything
I was mad about
What he was
Trying to take
TITLE: Him
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Jun 8
AGE: 16 ½
I feel
sew restless
needle & thread
stitch my days
but life bolts
TITLE: Restless
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Jun 18
Sometimes I'm not quite sure what it means, but the words are so beautiful I know it must be profound.
TITLE: In the library, alone & ecstatic
DATE: 1990 Nov 5
Our behavior is human with a sliver of animal, our souls animal with a sliver of human.
TITLE: Biology on the fence
DATE: 1990 Sep 26
Dreams digest the meals that are our days.
° ° °
Dreams are road signs along the nighttime highway of sleep.
° ° °
Dreams are free therapy. Consult your inner Freud.
° ° °
Dreams are free therapy, but you can only get appointments at night.
° ° °
Dreams are nature's answering service — don't forget to pick up your messages once in a while.
TITLE: Dyspeptic Enlightenment
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Sep 22
We're all accidental soldiers in the army of life.
TITLE: Chessboard
DATE: 1990 Sep 22
The club met my head with a brittle, hollow sound;
I lost my balance and fell to the ground.
My flesh cried out and stung in haste
as the knife blade slashed across my waist.
The grit on the bottom of his worn-out boot
dug deep into my skin
when the stranger stomped on my face.
He ran away, he got me good.
My eyes were black,
my bruises blue,
my nose all bloody red.
Lampposts and cars the only witness to my
limping around and falling down,
asphalt digging into my wounds.
Oh, the stinging tears, the aching parts,
a throbbing head, hospital bills, Rx pain pills.
Nothing, nothing at all
weighed against
how I beat myself up every day,
without so much as a scratch.
TITLE: Perfectionism
DATE: 1990 Nov 16
AGE: seventeen
I beat myself up every day without so much as a scratch.
TITLE: Perfectionism
SOURCE: journal poem
DATE: 1990 Nov 16
NOTES: extracted from above poem
I like odd numbers — and the odder, the better.
SOURCE: calculus homework marginalia
DATE: 1990 Dec 3
Handwriting is autobiography.
TITLE: Analysis
SOURCE: school homework
DATE: 1990 Mar 6
There's only one problem with the beauty of springtime — always running out of film!
TITLE: Depth of field
DATE: 1990 Mar 17
Nature's beautiful dancers — flowers, water, leaves
Dancing to the music of a sweet gentle breeze!
DATE: 1990 Apr 14
NOTES: revised
Stop being your own pest.
Start doing your own best.
TITLE: Self-stumbling
SOURCE: journal
DATE: 1990 Oct 1
Can a good person be both a tree hugger and a book lover, when one has to be murdered to create the other?
TITLE: Gilt
DATE: 1990 Jul 10
Does someone with a magnetic personality always point north?
DATE: 1990 Jul 14
NOTES: revised
I can give you 1040 good ways we can improve our government.
TITLE: Forms of adulthood
DATE: 1990 Feb 11
AGE: sixteen
JOB: McDonald's
NOTES: revised
Terri Guillemets
Archives — 1990
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