Monday, November 29, 2004

Dead Zone

Nothing to get one reading than a dead phone. In the middle of a pocket of a zero signal interruption. On a rainy day. With half the world catching sleep on a holiday morning. Someone drinking his fifth cup of a dream in a dream. In the middle of a grey morning. And to get one thinking if one could be someone else for a day. For a change. From an interview of James Merrill:

Now it may sound — it may be — childish, but haven’t we all dreamed of doing exactly that? To disappear and reemerge as a new person without any ties, the slate wiped clean.

The desk of the mind worn thin into a long dream no one remembers. No one bothers to dismember into parts, because there are no parts. There is no whole to compose.

What a great day to be nothing but new.

Sunday, November 28, 2004

New Poem, and my Mom's Strange Dream

I think I want to officially start my blog. Especially since my computer almost crashed and I think it would be a good thing to start posting my poems in the net. Just in case I lose everything.

Here's the latest attempt: a poem written for Sir Jimmy Abad's class in UP which I've decided to sit in for the rest of the semester. I just came from a High Chair meeting with Mabi, Allan, Kristine, and Chingbee. Finally sent my the first fifteen poems for slow motion a few minutes ago. Oh lord, let this be quick and swift.

Finding a Stone

There is a small stone
the hand picks

at the edge of the garden

covered by trees
and the old wall

and the bird-calls far

and the bushes
which hold

no intentions really,
not even distraction—

which fits the hand
that holds it well,

fits the eye
that finds it,

flies high, high
and swiftly

to the teeth

of the visible


Earlier this afternoon, I called home and talked to my parents. My mom was telling me about her dream where she was talking to Lola who was telling her to tell me that I shouldn't worry about thinking that I wasn't her (Lola's) favorite since she was really busy at that time. The strange thing about the dream is that, for one, Lola's been gone for more than a year now, so any dream with her in it is bound to be a message from the other side; and two, although I've always felt that my lola like my brother more, I don't think I've ever mentioned it to anyone, least of all my mother. What sweet reassurance, although creepy too. Hi lola! :)