Sunday, December 09, 2007

I thought I could write it down, turns out

I can't.

Ask me again, when things are funny.

Or enough time has passed, I can make them funny.

You know that's how I tell my stories.

That's the crutch too. That there's always a next time.

That we never really get that desperate, urgent need for anything to happen now, now, now.

And that the poem below is actually an excuse to pretend I've said all I wanted to say.

It's sad and I'm sad. But I'll never admit it.

Friday, December 07, 2007

Because I like the Ben Folds song.

Smoke

The way a cigarette calls forth
the wet from porcelain:
Heat draws its opposite.

The way I look to see you
blink, break that connection. My gaze
then downward slips
to ponder your lips a and how
difficult to begin
a kiss uninvited.

For now, there are other
exchanges. Stories told through
other people, the dance of look
and look away,
aaaaaaaaaaa this poem
drawing a nod, a smile, silence. Com
miseration--exactly what we want
least from each other.

A younger me once wrote
to another: Lives change, but
stories remain the same.
And I mean this too: a What
is it that you're trying to tell me?

for now our stories too, have changed.

As if this tiny table between us--
the hands on it occupied, the toes
under it almost touching--is an excuse
to pretend a longer history
between us: a love, commitment
perhaps, that I might find this long-
winding attempt
aaaaaaaaaaaa reasonable.

A wet spot now on the ashtray, droplets
gather round the smoldering tip.
Inappropriate responses like smoke
swirling, then
aaaaaaaaaa flowing out of our mouths.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

Green Papaya and other raw...

Is papaya a fruit or a vegetable?

Am hosting a poetry reading at Green Papaya later, December 5, at 8pm. Green Papaya is on Maginahawa Street, UP Village East, near the corner of Maginhawa and Malingap Streets.

Come as you are. With 2-3 poems, better.

Here are the readers:

1. Joel Toledo
2. Pancho Villanueva
3. Khavn dela Cruz
4. Mookie Katigbak
5. Mikael Co
6. Anina Abola
7. Marguerite de Leon

Open mic readers most welcome. See you later guys!

This is my first time to host by myself, and unlike many other firsts, I am determined that this be utterly painless. Bow.