kitchen poems
Thursday, January 31, 2002
CHARTREUSENoble, poised, utterly French. French for the sake of being from France. Regal, heavy but with a sense of air. She is definitely a woman -- everything about her is in terms of keeping men as men. Everything else is reminiscent. She has a presence that is welcome and with many tours of reign, she rules with a light and airy touch and feel. She bends but does not break, and can get you to do whatever she wants you to do. Complete submission. You can't get mad at her and if you did you'll feel guilty for being so daring. Floating above all she surveys she swoops down to save another soul from "blah". Adding to dimension to sex. dazling slips. silk. fur. animal. a mismatched outfit making one stand out. a word. not understood. too feminine to wrap around my brain. blank. it smells of perfume, too strong, like my grandmother used to wear. thick & heavy. committed to memory, my mother's perfume as well. it reminds me of home lying in her bed was a comfort.
a chartered horse ride into the sky -- wait I've forgotten my favorite cashmir scarf but I can't miss this ride. It's come for me and all I can think about is that damn scarf that I use to double wrap around my neck -- so thick my neck would sweat year off my voice. What does it mean that god has sent for you by a chariot driven by half a dozen horses all ready to blaze a path across the sky to take you home back to a circle of more beginnings. Wait I've forgotten my blue green scarf -- the color of the sea on clear days when you can see the algae float on the foaming surface -- wait I've forgotten my scarf -- the one machine stitched for mass production -- the color of old sweat on hot, humid days whenthe men worked the land to build homes in deserts and legacies in the open sky. Scarf is lost -- I've forgotten it by the mouth of the river where I stood -- an ankle deep in silt and salty deposits.
Neon billboards seething and battling the ancient eye and presence of the night sky. A shooting star that becomes a comet, close and flaming like the rase of a childish not, a fallen anges. playfulness. depth. magic sand swirled in a fish tank. litebright of my childish toys. Everyone makes the clown. With legos, everyone makes the dinosaur. Piebald colorful pants I once thought were so cool when I bought them in korea 12 years ago. Pants I am now too embarrassed to wear. Truth battling ignorance. Truth stuggling for life. Life struggling for truth against the watchful ancient sky.
It's 9:35 AM 535 W. Ohio 2nd FLOOR. NEOMEDICA HEALTH Consultants. Another meeting of medical minds. Three doctors, seven administrative assistants, and one overhead projector. There is a state of the art voice conference telephone that is on standby with 3 doctors, 7 admin assistants, adn an overhead in San Francisco.
"The contusions occured here, here and here." said Bill.
"UHUH" replied everyone.
"Beep?" went the overhead.
"What was that?" said Bob.
"The overhead is trying to communicate w/us." said Billybob.
"Beep beep," went the overhead.
"No, that's the phone," said Blanca.
"Why don't you just reuse the data from last week's case," cried Brent.
"On the phone," replied Bill.
"No on the overhead" chimed Bob
"No" exclaimed everybody.
"On the contusions!" said Billybob.
"Yes, Ahhhhh" cried everyone.
Meeting adjourned.
They left in the order in which they were conceived: Bill, followed by Bob, then Blanca, the overhead, the phone, then the 7 admin assistants who were septuplets!Chartreuse? It's French. It's Feminine. It's like sex. It's a horse. Billboards? Fishtanks? It's a health consultant. I'm not good with words connection. Everyone's handwriting is chickenscratch and I'm not a graphic designer. Ah. So it is this, chartreuse color that I have to deal with.
French. Noble. Feminine. Complete submission. Silk. Fur. Animal. Overkill. White? Is it white? A non-glossy kind of white. Thick paper white. Pearl white. Wall white. Whatever the f--- oww--- health consultant? Nurse? A Chartreuse scarf left on top of the dumpster, in the snow. No one cares to rescue the scarf. It's getting cold adn will run out of life any minute now. It's lovely on top of the dumpster. Any living thing that gets left behind will not survive the cold winter night to see the next sunrise.
Sam del Rosario 12:04 AM
Wednesday, January 23, 2002
Q: Death
A: Death is my aperture
Q: Love
A: Love made me stutter
Q: Madness
A: Madness is opportunity
Q: Passion
A: I forget to breath sometimes
Q: Balance
A: I have a tendency to walk to the edge.
Q: Dreams
A: Dreams are picture frames
Q: Gods
A: Gods are mirrors
Q: Bureaucrats
A: I never felt comfortable in a suit
Q: Tears
A: Tears are stairways
Q: Laughter
A: Laughter makes up for my yesterdays
Q: War
A: War is when I am afraid
Q: Humankind
A: There is only so much I can learn by myself
Q: Home
A: It's the distance I measure how far I've gone.
patrick gaurano 5:23 PM
Sunday, January 20, 2002
I: Death.
ME: Death is to be expected at 100 miles and hour and no brakes.
I: Love.
ME: Love is...a crude drawing of an obese, naked couple making all
other marriages look like complete shit.
I: Madness.
ME: Madness is an oval office.
I: Passions.
ME: Passions is a joke, even to respectable soap operas.
I: Balance.
ME: Balance is a paternal, outstretched hand keeping pace with your
new bicycle, then suddenly withdrawn, causing you to plummet into
Mrs. Kryjewski's rosebush, breaking your arm.
I: Dreams.
ME: Dreams are like similes. They're like stupid.
I: Gods.
ME: Gods want their fire back.
I: Bureaucrats.
ME: Bureaucrats are the fathers of triplicate forms and the mothers
of DMV waiting lines.
I: Tears.
ME: Tears are like similes.
I: Laughter.
ME: Laughter is better given.
I: War.
ME: War never fails.
I: Humankind.
ME: Humankind is not as reliable as War.
I: Why not take the shorter way home?
ME: The alleys are dark, the main road has been taken,
and I am being watched.
marlon esguerra 7:45 AM
Wednesday, January 16, 2002
I dug out the original quote and while I basically got it right, Mr. Epstein's is much better.A personal library often represents a man's character or, if it consists largely of unread books, his aspirations.
-- Joseph Epstein in "The Opinionated Librarian"
Sam del Rosario 6:37 PM
Death.
Death gave me a second chance.
Love.
Love swallowed me into pieces
and spit me out whole.
Madness.
Madness left me naked and shaking.
Passion.
Passion handed me a magical blanket.
Balance.
Balance keeps me walking on tightropes.
Dreams.
Dreams clothed me in colors.
God.
God sleeps quietly inside me.
Tears.
Tears showed me i was human.
Laughter.
Laughter is a the sleeping child-god.
War.
War is a mortal game.
Humanity.
Humanity flies with glass wings.
Spirit.
Spirit makes me believe in time.
Home.
Home is always closer than I think.
anida esguerra 5:58 PM
Sunday, January 13, 2002
Death
is certain
Love
is more certain than death
Madness
beckons us to clarity
Passion
drives us to madness
Balance
visits only once in while
Dreams
hold secrets to my other life
Gods
are probably better than what we make them to be
Bureaucrats
are worse than what we make them to be
Tears
wake the dead
Laughter
frees the living
War
looks just like my ancestors
Humankind
awaits arrivals of wondrous souls
Why not take the shorter way home
I haven't found home yet
Cara Birch 1:24 PM
Thursday, January 10, 2002
death.
death seems dark but peaceful. it's my final destination.
love.
love is not always there when you look for it.
madness.
madness gives me a sense of sanity.
passion.
passion makes me feel loved.
balance.
i only know balance when i'm not.
dreams.
a way to escape the bitterness of reality.
i dream in color, but not always of joy.
gods.
gods are human creation.
bureaucrats.
bureaucrats can't see pass the surface.
tears.
the tangible part of my emotion.
laughter.
a representation of happiness.
war.
war doesn't make sense.
humankind.
humankind doesn't learn.
why not take the shorter way home?
because you'll miss everything else along the way.
misery chick 12:27 AM
Wednesday, January 09, 2002
DEATH puts life in perspective while
LOVE puts her out of reach and my
MADNESS which is wrongly mistaken for
PASSION strikes a delicate
BALANCE between what my
DREAMS are and what the benevolent
GODS have in store for me.
BUREAUCRATS keep everyone accountable so that
TEARS do not exist without a comparable amount of
LAUGHTER and vice versa, except in times of
WAR.
HUMANKIND is a journey in itself so
WHY NOT TAKE THE SHORTER WAY HOME? Because, after all that has happened, the scenic route is necessary.
Sam del Rosario 9:49 PM
Thursday, January 03, 2002
Just a quick note to announce that
the Kitchen Poems writing group will
reopen on Wednesday Jan 9, 6:30pm-10:00pm.
Newbies, contact me if you're interested in
attending, if you have not done so already.Kitchen Poem'ers, please bring:
1) Your Morning Pages
2) "Growing up Asian American" (ed. Maria Hong)
read or not read, bring it.
3) "Ingredients of my life" revision/rewrite.
4) Your organizers, date/book, etc.
marlon esguerra 10:52 AM
here's a quick morning pages freewrite that ended
up as a chant poem i read at the field museum
last week. the trib covered it in the new
years eve metro section, but
the article made all us poets sound
"like a conpused." (as my mom noted)---
tonight, the nameless come with battered shield
so much so it makes headlines for months
your children are sick of writing about it
and i am sick of teaching
begging them to think about it
write prose worthy of publication
but tonight someone is sleeping on a frayed, straw mat
someone else is rocking hundred dollar shades
someone is not sleeping in a refugee camp tonight
in a barracks tonight
brushing lip with trigger finger
someone is getting it on
someone is getting a smack down
a officer is giving a beat down
an officer is laid to rest
now i lay me down
tonight there is a call
someone is yelling faggot
tonight there are no winners
the television is re-broadcasting
tonight there is old footage
someone is running for their lives
running for the border
so many borders tonight
tonight a Chihuahua is a celebrity
someone is pretending this isn't happening
someone is placing a cross to a beaten chest
calling an old friend
on a cell phone while driving
someone has made the playoffs
taken a payoff
tonight someone is reading a book for oprah
analyzing footage for authenticity and timeline tonight
eying what j-lo’s wearing like their lives depended on it
someone is tipping over an empty bottle
and eying at a child’s locked bedroom door
rest forehead on palm and cried
someone suffered atrocities so it made them blind
tonight is a cover up
a sidetrack
a footnote in history
the day after
the fist step of many
someone is healing tonight
stepping over a tripwire tonight
setting a land mine
great minds are calculating collateral damage tonight
there is no justice tonight
someone has never known peace
someone is learning to read
laying a mack
twirling a mac-10
screaming for mercy
looking to fundamentals
someone is playing stratego tonight
someone hasn't slept for days
someone is snapping photos on their digital camera
on a ramp overlooking ground zero
there are a million ground zeros tonight
planes flying overhead in a hundred countries
unwritten skirmishes under lamplight
friendly firefights
ground troops are capturing a flag tonight
they are still stitching flags tonight
in china
in mexico
someone is breathing in the monsoon
bleeding a battle cry tonight
worrying over a second mortgage
you can’t count the number of candles lit tonight
a boy is born to this world and slapped into being
a man tonight
showing his manhood
forcing himself upon another
to night someone is talking back the night tonight
swirling their arms in surrender tonight
placing lovers neck to the fire
countless prayers unanswered tonight
tax dollars at work every night
now i lay me down
i aint to proud to beg tonight
steal back the grains tonight
to slip between the barrios without
fear for once
tonight
love like your lives depended on it
dream your monetary contributions
into action tonight
and mean what you say tonight
i aint to proud to beg tonight
before i lay me down
marlon esguerra 10:49 AM