Content
On friday, I came back from Berea after surviving my first semester of college. I spent the night at a friend's house. We caught up on things, and then...she told me that a few weeks ago, she found out she had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer. It was caught mid-stage, not too late, but it could have been found earlier. The doctors have given her a 50% chance of survival.
Names have been removed for the sake of privacy.
--
for my twin
Friday night, your place
we invade your roommate’s room
when we walk in we glow
bathed in blacklight showers. We
steal the bed bought by her sugardaddy. The
last time I saw you, there was a hill
I gave you my socks because it was cold
and I thought I’d never see you again. We
play catch-up, it’s all the same
your ex-R____’s still an asshole
your parents are finally gonna split
and every day, I think of dying. Lying
here in the dark, there’s
washed-out jizz on my pants,
from my dirty habits—we didn’t have sex—
but I’ve always wanted to kiss you, and
I slip off my jeans, and
you slip off yours, and
there are Killers coming out the speakers. I’ve
never felt this naked before, our
unmentionables glowing, red and blue.
I still don’t know what it means
to glow under the blacklight in a stranger’s home
on the first night back from college. My first night
home. Maybe I don’t have a home. I’m still
thinking these blue thoughts when you tell me,
it’s a story:
One day
I wasn’t feeling well, and
A___ drove me to the hospital, and
you went into a seizure on the floor of
the Range Rover A___’s dad—
who raped her when she was younger—
bought her, because things are better now
and A___ isn’t angry anymore, and
A____ didn’t know what to do so she left you there
and she ran for help in the cold, and
the doctors took you out and
they stuck you in a machine, soaked body,
one-third the radiation
of a Hiroshima bomb. That’s
when they said you were dying,
malignant cancer of the life source
deep down, where other boys have been
but they were too fucked up on drugs to stay. Deep down,
places I’ve thought of going, but then I stop myself
and I wonder what you thought when
the blood and piss ran down your thighs. It’s
the flip of the coin, you see,
this blacklight occurrence, my indecision,
just kiss her, I say
and they caught it
mid-stage, a fifty-fifty split
that’s what the doctors say, at least.
No more cigarettes, no more vodka nights.
Maybe this is payback for
beating the shit out of that girl and
leaving her in the woods. Maybe
it’s the water you drank from
the lake by your parents’ house. Maybe
it’s not praying enough, and you need it,
now more than ever. And
here, under the blacklight, the speakers sing
this is the world that we live in…
I still want to kiss you, more now than ever before
and I wonder what it would be like
to kiss someone dying.
12/14/2008
12/15/2008 Chungyen Chang
Posted by changc on December 15, 2008 5:25 PM | 1 comment | Permalink |
This is part of a series of poems I have been working on, all centering around a character, "Alice". It's going to sound pretentious, but Alice is also part of myself.
As I write these poems, a distinct plot and character has begun to emerge from my words. Many of the poems are written at the moment, without any editing. This is one of the better attempts so far. The best stuff gets written in the middle of a term paper.
"Alice" (21)
Celery-stick goddess
writes term papers by day
fights vampires by night.
She doesn't ermember why,
and the celery gives her gas, but
that's okay because
all the memories are bad stiches
stapled down, grafted on by badgirls
in tight skirts and mountaintop heels. One
day she'll invent a windex, a cure-all spray
to blast them all away, only smudges
on oaken furniture, fingerprints
on glass. There was a dream once
of girls under, falling through,
falling into glass. All her, and
in that dream, she bled ochre
stained piss on her wedding gown
and the room smelled like celery.
12/2/2008 Chungyen Chang
Posted by changc on December 02, 2008 2:15 AM | 1 comment | Permalink |
Do you like this better with or without the last stanza?
What does this mean to you?
I: Procreation
Someone woke up
and they said
“Well, shit.” And
lovers made friction bombs,
the cold ones, like ice cream
and it was cherry chocolate
vanilla broke the blood barrier
between the brain and “psychosocial health”
became an island in that sea of pretty faces
II: Old Wine
I was watching when she killed you
swallowed hardened, crystal droplets
fifty years old, fermented in war
just like mama did you
III: Curiosity
It was difficult to distinguish
the difference between
blood and the concept of sexual vampires
there were nights when you
woke in cold porridge, like ice cream
and it was oreo cookie dirt
caught in the cracks of your fingernails and
you didn’t know why you couldn’t
“Stop crying, please”
IV: Exploration
Times like that, you’d remember
the boy with the pearl eyes
and the way he split open
at the edge of the sky, like a firework
and suddenly, you knew who it was
who had left all those pretty words in your mailbox,
and then
you were there too, kissing him
and your lips plumped with copper
when he split his head on the horizon.
V: Nowhere
Someone woke up,
and they said
“What is this?”
dropped out their blue homes and squirted, squinted
cream eyes at setting sun
there was a tree on the hill, and it shivered
you don’t remember which
of the birds fell and broke their beaks
and suddenly no one cared about their
Facebook notifications
VI: Reflection
It was like ice cream
the way it clumped in your hands
melted, cold and savory
and no one said a word.
…
VII: After
There are nights when I wake
and I'm cold and I can't wrap
my frigid arms around myself
and when the sun is dead
my hands are grey-peaked temples
to never
in the morning, I disappear
11/24/2008 Chungyen Chang
Posted by changc on November 24, 2008 10:59 PM | 1 comment | Permalink |
this is about college fatigue
half-asleep
dream eyes
red faces
double blankets
cracked hands
homesick
college blues
hot chocolate
multiple revisions
dualities
Alanis chokes
I'm going under
please swallow me, this river tide
I'm tired of free rides.
11/17/2008 chungyen chang
Posted by changc on November 18, 2008 12:29 AM | 0 comments | Permalink |
WOOF Contest – Top 5 Picks:
Poetry
Romeo - “The Natural World” - A short poem about nature and its beauty.
Jennifer M Scott - “Seeking Sun” - An avant garde poem about fall.
About Words / Writing
Kimota (Jonathan Crossfield) - “Time, Productivity and the Writer” - A look at how writing isn't necessarily as quick to produce as many outsiders believe. Taking three hours to produce 100 words might seem odd, but is perfectly legitimate to produce quality copy.
Fiction
Ferox - “Is that a Dragon?” - Things must be observed to exist. Otherwise, they can be anything.
~willow~ - “it's all a matter of perspective...” - ...where a young girl knocks a new perspective into an otherwise downcast boy on a bright autumn day...
Brought to you by PlotDog Press with the Serial Suspense "Intervention"
Presenting the finest of the writer’s blogs by the bloggers who write them. Highlighting the top 5 posts as chosen by the October 24, 2008 WOOF Contest participants. Want in to join the next WOOF? The next contest ends October 31. Submit a link to your best writing post of the last 2 weeks using the form at the bottom of this page. Participants, repost the winning link list within a week and you’re all set.
Posted by changc on October 27, 2008 11:39 PM | 0 comments | Permalink |