i don’t think the sun ever fell for me that day.
Category: English
under fake parissian lights*
after a grievous disturbance of the senses
she thought of fairy lights she still kept on her dying christmas tree
and the waitress tap danced with him
la veuve joyeuse a la javanaise
*this little poem was written on the back of a paper mat by iain bamforth (1st line), me (2nd line), ney (3rd line) and richard oh (4th line) at oh la la djakarta theatre on wednesday, april 2, 2008. after he wrote his line, iain folded the paper so i couldn’t see what he had written. he only hinted that i should begin with a subject. the rest of us then repeated the method. iain jotted down the word renga, just to point out that our poem was similar to the japanese form of poetry. as for the title, ney is the one to blame.
what happens after you wait until it rings ten times
you were in my dream last night
i wasn’t even in it
do you know what’s worse than profundity?
lack of profundity
you’re aware what you’re feeling is intense
but somehow it simply refuses to surface
you twist and turn believing nothing
ask more questions speculate manipulate
drink more to dream less i guess
deciphering is as brutal as
redialing