detached
2:00 pm Friday and still in bed
an earthquake in China claiming
i don't know, 50,000 lives? and a cyclone
in Burmah a week ago
the 100,000+ who died and
all those still unreached by aid
(the quake happened Monday but
i only just found out last night
when i finally cared to turned on the radio
via MacBook)
heh. i actually lost sleep over it
which is probably why i woke up so late and dang-it!
i have stuff to do
but don't feel like doing any of it
like folding three loads of laundrey and
picking up my messy room and i swear
i have so much stuff and i still
have to buy some more camping equipment online
a new rain-suit will cost me close to $200 but
i heard on the BBC that for only $100
i could buy a cheap laptop for a child's education
in some third-world country, heck
i could buy two
complete with Microsoft
ten minutes later
neck craned sideways from my Queen sized mattress
(gosh, this bed is big)
to glance through my room's sliding glass doors
out passed my wooden balcony -
another bright and sunny and distant American summer day outside
a hawk screeches over woods past the backyard fence
circling over budding forest trees somewhere i hear a plane
buzzing higher up and more distant and
i wonder where i'd go if i could fly
away from here, probably
hunger
finally drives me from bed
a top-priority now and downstairs in the kitchen i find
some macaroni casserole in the Kenmore leftover
from dinner two nights ago
i slice it open with a butter knife
douse it bloody with hot sauce and
fry it in the microwave
"extra"
is not a term associate with food i am sure
for most of the world's population
i crackle on the pepper and
dash on the salt
"Father, God
please bless this food to my body
in Jesus' name
amen."
Reviews
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The truth of the matter...
Pap, I really like this. It has a feel of my favourite poet, Bukowski, and it speaks to me. It should speak to EVERYONE, for I imagine most of us feel (and behave) very much as you do. You reviewed my poem on this subject and wrote
i, too, just wrote a poem about the quake in China. tho, u'rs is from the complete opposite point of view, and not a bit sarcastic (all the better).
I think you're wrong about the 'complete opposite' thing and the 'sarcastic' thing both. We are both MOST concerned with how difficult it is to truly engage with the real horror of these tragedies. My poem points out that until she became a victim herself, the protagonist worried too much about unimportant things.
And your poem is not sarcastic at all. It is self-scrutinizing which is a very different thing. By dealing so frankly and honestly with the particular, you invite the reader, in an non-judgemental way, to examine his/her own behaviour. To deal with something as massive as these disasters, the poet, I believe, must look at the particular. As humans,we are naturally self-pre-possessed. But we are all capable of empathy, given the chance to feel it. Your poem, I believe, gives us the chance to feel it - and that's no mean feat.
It might be said that I'm only 'back-slapping' here, because you liked MY poem on the same subject. Not the case at all. I've compared you to Bukowski. I can't pay you a higher compliment. To 'tell it like it is' and do yourself no favours in the process, is a great ability. And I suspect you are very much younger than I am, so you have no right possessing such wisdom and bravery! Well done. >W<
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I like this Papy..it talks of the tragedy but you gave it such a personal angle...I could have felt like I was sitting there with you and you were saying all that to me...your words were that real
I liked the descriptive nature...bringing it to thanking god for your food at the end....i never would have expected but thats great and has a point too.
Cindy
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conscience pangs
are a good thing i guess, not to have them seems sort of like the crass 'ugly american" who travels to such places and bitches about his cold eggs...we dont' want to that guy...do we?
good topic and well written.
dave
Windhover
May 17
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