okay, if you are going to read this post, you are required to be forgiving.

i NEVER share my poetry because they all suck (however, there is a standing invitation to not believe this). in fact, when people ask me if i dabble into poetry (especially those who write, moreso the ones who are good at it), i always lie. i would outrightly say "no."

never. i could not write poetry to save my life. heck, i could not write poetry to send my soul to eternal repose.

and this is true. but i do have attempts, a different thing altogether. and since i could not get myself to write something for that science fiction and fantasy workshop class (my stoy's due on tuesday!!! argh!) tonight, i thought i'd try something new. something even more unbelievable than high fantasy and speculative than cult science fiction. i shall post one of my poems.

(actually, we may have ourselves a motif here. poets get to read in poetry readings. thus, poetry readings. if they do not feel like reading their own work, someone else may read it for them. fictionists get to attend these readings. and listen. and smoke. and listen. and now, poets get to post poems in blogs. it's just too scandalous to post 5-page stories as blog entries.)

i just wrote this, and perhaps this is not its final form.

Some Habits Are Developed

Owing to the sudden fame of compartmentalization, he writes
in different colors.

Hewlett-Packard Black
is for the academic oeuvre. He would type
his full name
(in bold, more often than not),
course title and accompanying catalogue number.
The date occupies upper right hand.
Words like asymptote and primordial would puncture the page
as if spelling-bee answers.

Always double spaced.

Blue Panda ink would populate his personal organizer--
inconsistent loops (semblances of Hindu-Arabic letters)
in
bullet
points.
Rows of keywords, names and dates: an orgy
happening inside a battered leather binder.

(The missed deadlines and appointments would be highlighted in yellow Faber Castell; important people would appear in all caps.)

Deep deep deep grey
(blackest that is not black)
is the Staedtler 6B. It is perfect
for the yellow Post-it. Smudges

of graphite would eloquently communicate
batman returns 9pm ch 7 Sat
See how it is silver at precise angles?

SARAH would appear in liquid paper,
still white in some spots,
all over the back of his trapper keeper.
All over.

The palest shade of paper is reserved for love letters.


15 August 2004