It's taken me months to finish this poem. Alas, this is final. This is yours.




It’s no accident that entire hall dimmed
precisely when your bright eyes smiled.
Then I wondered, on a hopeful whim,
if the dining room is shrinking soon
if they’ll let us waltz on their floor
on a night so rare?
And as blue as the moon.

I can’t remember the chairs
being black or red,
if they served sweet or sourdough bread.
Well, it’s too far now to visit alone
and it’s been so long, I might lose the road.
But I’ll play the risk, anytime you want,
back to our Italian restaurant.


There was a layer from our laughter
to always rise above the clinking glasses.
You sang the music of the moment,
and even my happiest dreams couldn’t predict
our weekend in Monterey or some
lovers’ retreat,
a dance at 3am with Sinatra on repeat.
We’d move, as if everyone else was stagnant.

You were all the cohesion
finessed into a notebook of fragments.

That night and the other nights
I can’t recall what we drank or ate.
We had just a world – none could recreate it –
where excitement was tip-toeing
past the unsuspecting light beneath your mother’s door.
We listened to the pendulum sway
afraid sneaky steps sounded as drums.
Then I came inside, and never felt you so warm.

Thinking life wouldn’t ever be as dear,
we could never imagine the tears.



One night, after all those other nights
We sank quietly into a booth – awkward
from the new agreement to disarm –
that was drab and grey.
The salty tide dried on your cheeks.
Yes, that Wednesday night of June
no violence, but intentions sure permanent.
At least streetcars gave a diverting tune.


My appetite has dared me to go back sometime.
I’m ready now, tonight I’ll toss the leftovers.
Have you done the same? If not, oh what a shame –
if you still pretended to forget my name.

Anyway, I could get a menu –
it’s as new as I am, I promise you.
I don’t think of the years,
if only you forgot the tears.
Then we’ll go back anytime you want
to our Italian restaurant.

It is the way you
dance into my dark room
and grab me by the eyes
that I’d always welcome as a reprise.
Then I’d quietly stare, I could assume,
while the walls stand still with the air.
And I could bathe in your warm essence,
isolated by the deafening quiescence.

But

what I yearn for most
is to feel your tongue uncurl
when it
liberates your curiosity
and locks my complete attention.

It is the same to dream of
that instant in which
I feel the softness of your thoughts’ release.
Its modest pace walking me through
an endless book inside of you.

Uncontrived and ever naturally
your voice folds my periphery.
Its hands reaching through my body
taking captive my senses.

Until I could only hear
I could only see
I could feel
only you.


- 10.13.08

Old child

You child! Stuck in time
Feign the walk from parents' reign
Fake growth, you're still you.



A long year

Wet nose, stormy eyes
drops fall flat, soaked battlefield.
You lose and I lose.

I read this fable from a children's book not too long ago.  I thought it was such a cool story!  Thought I'd share...



On a warm summer day, a buffalo was roaming the wide-open pasture. He decided to stop and help himself to some lunch. Meanwhile, a fly had been buzzing excitedly all about the field. The fly, too, was roaming and exploring the land, but found the trip to be boring without company. As he zipped through the fields unnoticed, he saw the Buffalo and decided to approach him. The Buffalo had found a warm spot he thought was very comfortable, so he was happy and was going to stay for a while.

"Ah, that buffalo is all by himself," said the fly. "If I don't come over there, he'll be lonely all day! Surely he will be glad to meet me."


The fly buzzed around the Buffalo several times before finding a spot to land. He stationed himself right on the Buffalo's ear. Even though he was right there, the Buffalo did not make even the slightest movement. Thinking that perhaps he couldn't be seen, the fly decided to make himself visible and buzzed around the Buffalo's head a few more times before landing again, this time on his nose. Moments later, the Buffalo remained still. He did not flinch, he did not rise; there wasn't any reaction at all to the fly trying to get his attention.

After too many attempts, the fly decided to be on his way again. But before he left, he wanted to say something to the impassive buffalo.

"Hey, I just want to let you know that I will be leaving now. I've been perched on your nose but it's dull there and sorry, I have to find another spot!"

Calm as the soft summer breeze, the Buffalo raised his head and said: "Oh. Well, I did not notice you when you were here, so I will not be sad when you are gone."

Later, the Buffalo continued strolling the fields, comfortable under the endless summer sky.

Sometimes, the smallest creatures have the biggest opinions of themselves.

I can't count anymore all the times I drove home thinking my writing has probably withered down to a decrepit and thin substance.  My mind operates like the pendulum of a clock -- I could tell everything is functionally worry-free when it is consistently active.  And let me just say something, I am so proud to say that pendulum never moved better than during my last two quarters of undergrad.  Somewhat late, perhaps, but nonetheless it made up for all the agony of sitting through lectures which taught me no more than to cram and regurgitate for a mere number that tells you how adequate a student you are.  My senior year though, was quite different.  After accepting that my relationship with VSA had fallen apart like a 38-dollar suit, my focus shifted towards school and work.  That was not the plan, but maybe it really should have been.  Regardless, things worked out very well and I ultimately had the best academic year of my life.  I had never felt so intellectual stimulated nor as great a thinker.  With the wonderful courses, endless resources and a spacious new student facility to boot, I finally saw what UC Irvine offered me.  But by the time June came around I could not help but feel personally responsible for cheating myself out of a better college experience.  It was time to go, yet my fondness for UCI as an institution was still nascent.  Four years came and left and I never really felt a personal attachment or a local pride.  Hard as it was to accept, it was incredibly easy to realize there was nowhere else to look for blame.

Well, the entire point of this entry (before I started to digress) was that I stopped writing altogether.  I think I was still disappointed that I reached an all-time high as a critical thinker during February through June, and all of a sudden I no longer had the same fertile place that nourished my mind and my pen.  This was pretty discouraging.  During the last months of the school year I was so busy that I did not have time to write new poetry.  I thought the dryspell would just effectively end once I graduate, but that has not been the case.  Like I said at the opening, it seemed regrettably a likelihood that I just did not have it in me anymore.

Yet it did not make sense to me why this was the case because it's not as if my pendulum was dormant.  I was still thinking frequently because I have quite a bit on my mind these days.  So today I decided to just go ahead and write to organize what's been on my mind lately.  I've also had some ideas for a few creative projects that I hope to get started on now that VAHSA camp is over.


Life after Graduation

Right before I graduated, and I do mean right before, I made a decision to decline all the offers I received for the Criminal Justice Master's program so that I could have a year off.  It was awfully tempting to go right back to school and continue with my education, but I just stopped believing that I had a future in Crim.  I myself have lost a lot of faith in the American justice system and I did not want to pursue a career in an area with an increasingly long record of institutional failure.  After realizing that I cannot realistically foresee myself loving what I do in the future with a Crim degree, I decided it would be best to devote this next year towards a serious reconsideration.

I graduated on a Friday, and  by that following Monday, my new life began. I started as an Examination Assistant in the Department of Assesment and Placement at the Huntington Beach Union High School District.  It has been two months now since the job started and I am really enjoying it.  I've put off saying that for as long as I could because every time I write that about a job, things promptly go south.  However I really think this time will be different.  Last week the person that coordinated Assesment exams left, and with her departure, I was the anointed replacement.  Things are going great!  I have a roomy desk and computer that are solely mine, as well as access to a spiffy Mac Book.  Call me at work some time at extension 4462 and we can chat!  Actually, don't do that quite yet - I'm awfully busy now that the high schools are about to be back in session.  Well all the "perks" of the job might not sound like much, but they represent a bit of adulthood for me.  For that, they seem grand.



Up

Some of you who read my posts from earlier in the year may recall that they were synonymous with tumult.  2008, at its onset, was ostensibly no different from how the final few months of 2007 turned out.  The slide continued and leaked onto the first months of the new year and by the time March rolled around, I was so lost I could not even find the sun when Spring arrived.  It looked like 2008 would be a year of constant losing - but I kept hanging in there until I saw the light of day.

After a month-long application process, an assessment test, a preliminary interview and then a final interview, I got an early morning phone call.  I'm not a strong swimmer anymore, but that time I think I could've outlasted Michael Phelps because it felt like I was holding my breath for an eternity.  I was waiting to exhale because I did not know what the phone call would be about.  Upon hearing that I had beaten out the other eight candidates to land the job with the Huntington Beach Union High School District, I quietly and respectfully accepted the offer over the phone.  What could not be heard though was the silent roar that resonated through my body.  I felt like I had finally tasted triumph in a year where losing was the only item on the menu.  I never had anything as good.

Since then I have been consciously trying to hang on to everything I have.  My eyes watered a little at the end of the first job interview when the panel asked me if there was something the District should know about me.  After a long pause I told them about the difficult year I had and how happy I was just to get a shot at the job.  I told them that if I should be so lucky to win the position, I would make sure to not take it for granted.  I had felt what it was like to be so, so low, and I was going to do anything to make sure that I never feel that again.  My voice shook a little and at that point I knew I had gambled because it cannot be good when you get emotional at a job interview.  Yet, I was proud of myself for facing my struggles and sounding out my vow to defeat them.

It is now August and although life is drastically better, I still have been reticent about how much better.  The jinx superstition was introduced to me in middle school and it has never left.  I fear losing it all again if I boast too much or if somehow I get lost in the mystic of success.  That is why it is not until now that these words are emerging, though even now I feel the need to hold back because if I say too much, I might lose again.  Sure, there is no sign of being rational in this practice of taciturnity, but when you have to hang on dearly to what you've got, why risk it?




So with all that said, I quickly got over the fact that I did not do more in undergrad.  I'm loving my life right now because work is great, I'm getting involved again with UVSA and I think that really helps me out mentally because I learned that I am my best person when I actively work with others.  VAHSA camp just ended yesterday and though gone is my voice, accomplishment arrived and greeted me.  This project really is meritable of its own entry (and more) so that will be done at another time.  For now I would just like to read the letters that the campers and staffers wrote me before I head to sleep.

Stay positive, friends.