Well, had the first of my advisory meetings, and I talked M's ear off and complained and was paranoid and he said i was going to be fine which is I suppose part of his job although I still felt it was an imposition. I also figured out I'm jealous of other people's sucess. I define jealousy as not wanting to be that person or be in their place, but you begrudge them their success/happiness in relation to your own. I also figured out that I was worried that working on a blog like this would 'dilute' my work. I don't think that's true. It just makes me more prolific and it makes my better poems easier to identify because I have so many. If I just had a few, I would feel proprietory about all of them. With many, I can easily toss off a poem without caring, it's not a huge disaster.
Anyways, here's part 2 of my collaboration with Catherine Meng. You can check out her poems at my link to her on the right.
A LOVE ODE
You are my little whimpering cricket.
I like to hear you outside humming while on acid,
waiting for you to come back in with spaghetti
dripping off your face, spreading an amazing amount of butter
on your bread, which I know from personal experience can be delicious.
You are literally a cricket, as of now you are nesting
behind my wall, chirping right next to my calendar.
For an insect, I had to come to terms with finding you foxy,
and hoping that another species would be interested in this old fossil,
and imagining us vacationing to a non-judgmental country like morocco.
But that could never be, which is why you are now reading this letter,
my sweet cricket love, and why you see me hanging from a cord
tied around my neck, looking like an accident with a parachute.
Humans call this suicide, but DON’T leave in a dead sprint
for the E.R., that’s as useful as buying me a cruller.
I just picture the daisies planted on my grave in the shade grown
taller and taller, with each passing year, so don’t scrub
the tears from your face, cricket, but admire that beauty, plunge
into the waters of forgetfulness now, teeming with kelp,
deep and dark and forgiving, and like our hearts, abundantly porous.
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10 comments:
"that's a useful as buying me a crueller." *sigh*
I think that will be my new response to...well, everything basically.
I went to a play the other night & I was looking through the program & one of the extras had graduated from CSF. Aw screw, I forget his name. But everytime he came on stage I had to resist the urge to bellow out "CSF! CSF! CSF!"
What the hell is going on y'all? CSF! CSF! CSF!
dear jennifer,
please i identify yourself.
regards,
steve
How many Jennifers do you know who know you, Meng and CSF? Are you kidding? Besides, you live in NY now. If I put my first and last name, no one will believe me. Trust me on this. It's hell to be confused your whole life with a famous murder victim whose name is as common as, um, Steve Roberts.
okay, that didn't help me. i'm admittedly dumb, but i can't remember a person with a name like jennifer without a last name from several years ago, call me shallow or what have you.
Good lord, dude. If you didn't go to school with Cat, certainly I did...and I know you, and yet, I did not go to school with you. This is a fun game, but I'm kind of hurt you don't remember me.
I'm the editor of your damn alumni magazine...coming at'cha three times a year from sunny Santafe, bearing my smiling face.
in my defense, all my mail including alumni magazines is carefully screened by my mother, who reads them and then no doubt throws them away.
jennifer-I AM SURE I DO REMEMBER YOU. but this is the internet, all i have is your name and some words. sorry that i can't put it together.
okay, okay, okay, i got it i got it i got it. hi jennifer. what's shakin?
That makes me feel better, as well as less good about my readership. If you e-mail me at jlevin@csf.edu, I can get your current address into the database and you can receive copies of the much lauded Vistas magazine in your very own mail box. Wouldn't that be awesome?
I am doing good. Writing writing, wishing I had more time for writing. And yet, still writing.
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