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Thin Lines

Jen Selinsky

Copyright © 2007 by Jen Selinsky

All rights reserved by the author. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise without the prior permission of the copyright holder.

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Cover Art Copyright © 2004, 2014 by Jen Selinsky and Travis Potts

ISBN: 9781370686568

*Not every poem included in this book is dated in chronological order.  This is not an oversight on my part. Rather, I have made changes and substitutions over the years.


Can you feel the colors of my heart

As they are calling out to you?

Each one bringing forth a special skill.

You know that such things are meaningless,

Unless someone is willing to listen

And partake of the beauty and meaning.

Something I find so hard to do anymore,

Can it be the increase in my age?

Take me back to the days

When I had less trouble.


Golden dust & painted nipples.

What kind of fun do you plan on

Having tonight?

My proposition may be scary,

But maybe you should keep it

In mind because I am not going to

Give up quite so easily.

One way or another, we will

Have our fun!


We celebrate by holding hands and

Releasing each other’s energy into the wind.


I suppose it helped me.

Get the bounce back into my step—

And warm blood running through my veins

And him,

He rescued me before I even knew

I was in danger.

He is the air which I breathe every day,

And he is the light in my eyes.

I don’t even know what I would do

If you weren’t in my life;

I don’t know how I would carry on.


Kiss my eyes that I have shut,

For I am afraid that I may never

See again.

Talented vision, I’d rather

Have none at all if it means

That the rest of my life

May be corrupted.

Oh! Make me mortal again,

Before my last round

With Insanity.

I may just win this time if my angel,

My muse, allows me to see again.

Blurred vision,

I am already lost in this world!


Before you open your mouth,

Would it do me better to say

Something that’s been on my mind

For quite some time?

You do not know what I feel,

But I am hesitant to say

What I’ve been thinking.

Delayed satisfaction,

Dismayed reaction,

Which one applies to the situation?

I’ve known you for years, but I

Might not know as much as I

Probably should.

My reclusive tendencies have

Gotten the better of me and, now,

I am fading to black.


Dancing up and down the same street—

My feet might grow tired, but I am

Fond of these happy greetings, which

Flow from the lips of those

Who don’t even know me.

Now, such beauty and honesty

Can shine through their faces

I’m in the right place!

I hope someday they know me,

As more and look back on when

I walked the local streets.


This must be paradise because

I can still see to take off my clothes.

But I do not even know what

I’m doing here in the midst of

All that is good.

Ah, this time the rain is refreshing

Because it cools off my body after a

Hard day of labor.

The sun is going to dry me

And give me the nutrients that I need.

Inorganic interference, nothing impure

Will be allowed to enter my body!

I want to continue to have a good cycle,

As I define the essence of my being.

Reconstructing the shape and form

To make myself become the ideal.


On the mend,

You see me at the end,

Riding a wild horse,

Escaping the pressures

Of the world.

You know me,

And you know what I want.

You’re welcome to come with me

If you feel that things

Are not right.

I know you want a part of it too.


Right now,

I can identify

With being lethargic

Because my brain

Is producing nothing

Of use.

Help me get back

My inspiration!


Midnight croaks,

And she is running away

From the scene.

Torn dress

And scratches

On her fair skin.

Blood mixed with white—

No pink badges here.

A monster hot on her heels,

How did the situation occur?

No fellow royalty has to

Rely on her feet.


I fell off the horse,

Which injured my pride

And bruised my elbows.

His hand—

O’, extended forward

His hand and helped

Me off the ground.

His sensitive gentle

Fingers dried my tears,

And his lips caressed

My cheek.

This is the one,

Oh, I knew it since

I found him.

He shall take me

To my paradise—

My earthly utopia,

And the smile

On his face

Will tell me that

I have made him

The happiest man alive.

What comes in the future;

I cannot yet see?

Walking hand in hand

It’s not exactly as planned,

But it has returned

The color to my face.

And my life has taken

A happy turn.


Straight through the narrow element

Streets have lit up, and faces shine

Once I get out, I will have time

To stretch my imagination,

Stretch words beyond their boundaries.

I’m on limited time, but that is

Only what I call the ultimate goal.


Lost through time and space,

The universe is tied up inside

Someone’s heart.

I haven’t time to define it all yet.

Meaning and myth, when people

Cannot see the fine line between

The two.

Watch out for the stars, as they

Try to give us the interpretation

That many are yearning to find.


Divine Love

Do you even want to know what

Keeps me alive and ticking?

Kicking away the evil forces of

Death and despair.

It is my love and faith in God that

Makes my world revolve.

He’s been there

So many times

That I’ve lost count of

All the miracles

That have occurred over the years.

I suppose that

It’s not very good,

But how bad is the situation?

He’s always there, no matter the


I could be face down in the sand

And dragged in by the water—in

The midst of the sea and all her

Grey fury.

And He would save me

From death

By drowning, therefore,

We must praise

The Maker of our human form!


You say things can get better;

They will get better.

Oh, but for some kind of

Motivation that would

Shock you into realization.

I don’t know how much

More I can take.

Can you cease to slow me down?


We won’t go.

Thanks to you

And your plans

To want to stop it all.


Falls so short

After it leaves

Your fingertips.


You can see through

The translucent body,

But no one can look

Beyond my soul.

Standing in a graveyard,

How much longer will

My body last before.

The better part of me will

Descend to the great beyond?

No man alive can answer that.


Your sick façade,

This fantasy

Has driven me

Outside to the forest—

To the deepest

And darkest tree,

Never to see the light

Of day,

Until the storm calms.

If rationality ever

Shows its face again—

My breath less frequent

Knees to my chin.

Danger passes over

As my eyes begin to glow.


Poem of an Hour

I can’t believe the monotony that is present,

And I want to get out of this room.

Is there anything I can do; is there

Anything I can say?

Nothing is going to change my mind

Because Nothing is not here right now.

Nhbdy is here, and Nhbdy really cares.

Do you think that I am glad to have

This opportunity, because the poor cannot

Afford it?

They cannot afford anything because

We live in a Capitalist society—

Suck in all the money that you can

Until it comes right out of your ears.

But, Marxism, who needs it?

Dolor and misery, the people in society

Are supposed to meet such expectations.

How dare you speak when I was supposed

To bring forth my own opinion?

Thousands of people die, and the cold

Members of the media think that it’s a

Wonderful thing.

I love you, but you speak again!

Let me say my little piece so that

The teacher thinks that I am paying attention.

He is so brilliant, do you think that

I have a chance?

What am I supposed to say about technology?

All these problems in the world, all these mouths

To be fed and heard.

I didn’t know that I have to pee. I wasn’t aware

Of my bodily functions, but I can’t get up

Because I am confined to my desk.

Souls, otherwise we’d all be eaten by our ids,

But we’d still have problems with men,

Pseudo feminist.

Plastic girl, open the door!

Who needs to be masculine when we can

Be seductive instead?

Now, we’re not the objects because we are

The ones who have control.

Do objects really enjoy being used?

What pleasure I get is because of me;

I can enjoy the process of life—the process

Doesn’t kick me out into the streets.

Now, if I say something stupid,

Please don’t point and laugh;

I’m only trying to make my point.

Little Miss, showing off her knowledge,

Why does she have to be so fancy?

The importance of the bread lines,

Repeated words.

How morbid, life’s too short to hate.

I did not know that you were

Limping while you walked; I did not

Know you were so desperate.

We’re going to give you something

To think about.

Men and women die all the same,

And so do animals.

Do objects really die, or do they

Just wear out after too many uses?

Every once in a while, I keep looking

Up at the clock.

Ha. Ha. How do you always

Manage to speak before I do?

It must be some kind of wild guess.

Giving you something to think about.

Oh, I want to be rich, but not

In the way one may think—I need

To love and be loved; not surrounded

By chocolate-covered cherries.

A casual dinner then a casual viewing

Of the not-so-casual news.

1976, three years before she (Bishop) died.

It’s still too cold in here.

The clock says it’s time to go,

And that’s all I’ve got to say.


Second Thoughts

Growing thinner by the moment,

But is it all really worth it?

(Perhaps, not enough food was

Getting to my brain.)

This is driving me insane!

The life that I used to live

Before becoming obsessed

With my figure.

Back then, I could look at an e-mail,

And my intellectual capacity

Could have been said to have been near his.

And, now, I am lucky to even

Remember the time of day.

Sub sequentially, I am lost.

I want to knock them all dead

With my brain, just like I had

The capacity to in the old days.

None of these senior moments

Were allowed in my head!

Ah, but this thing called beauty

Has entered my life,

Dulling my senses and

Allowing my mind to think

Of nothing else.

(And just last night someone

Called me a “deadly concoction.”)

Oh so chubby and impressionable

In those days.

Whatever happened to those

Fancy phrases?

My interest in my talents,

Diminished, just like the

Fat cells in my skin, which

Barely covers my bone

Leave me alone!

Ye thoughts, my mind is like

A sieve, only regurgitating

Information for the last seven years.

How could I have allowed myself

To want to become the cute girl

With the perky breasts and the

Tight clothes, barely

Stretching across my skin,

Which people watch as I walk?

I used to hate the idea of cute—

White teeth and thick brown hair,

Exercise and Capitalist gain.

My poetry used to sing through

My heart, but now it’s yearning

For the value of a dollar.

How times have changed—

Heading in a direction of which

I’m unsure.

Exactly what are my priorities;

I don’t know anymore.


You used to be

Such an important person

In my life.

But, our differences,

(For lack of a better term)

Have caused us to drift apart.

I don’t know if I should

Place the blame

On either one of us.

Perhaps, it was neither

Of our fault, even though

I know what kind of person

You have become—hiding

Behind insecurities.

You reached out to a reluctant

Me, then, so soon, you wanted

To cast me away.

And must I remind you

That the knife hurt

As it dug into my unsuspecting


Perhaps you thought I hit you

First, but I was just doing what

I want, living my life.

Needless to say, you are

Out of mine.

And just because I ponder

Does not necessarily mean

That I care; it just means

That my mind thinks

On a higher scale.

I gave up on your unreturned

Calls and trying to be on your side.

Take care, wherever you are,

And know that I will be ahead

Of you in some respect.

Just remember that I tried.


Why don’t you stay around

A while, so I can be

Reintroduced to your brilliance—

Your passion that used to run

Through my veins?

It has been so long;

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