The second poem I read at thrilLITERATE. I know it’s long (it’s about 5 pages), but I never write any poems that long, so I figured it would make this one all the more special. It was also my first time slamming a poem in public, and having watched it a few times, I see where I could improve (ie. stopping less, keeping the flow going, more confident). Either way, I’m pretty happy with the poem because I worked on it quite a bit and I feel like I really put in all my thoughts and feelings I had about this situation into poetry, which sometimes can be hard for me to do, especially when I feel like I MUST make it all poetic and stuff.
Wanted to post this one. It’s from my reading at thrilLITERATE last week, the last one I read.
A friend didn’t understand the poem and although I could attribute it to his innocence and general naiviety about the world outside of his farm, perhaps there are others who don’t get it. To understand it, you have to know about stereotypes, mainly that lesbians fall in love and get together VERY quickly. I make fun of it but I also explain how I, as a gay man, am like that too.
Alright, now that I’ve told you how to interpret the poem, here it is:
Here’s one of the three new poems I read at last night’s thrilLITERATE reading. The video of my reading it is at the bottom.
Half-life
When they say a heart breaks,
they speak as if it breaks once:
a glass,
floating in slow motion,
pulled down by the fingers of gravity.
Shards scatter,
run away on little feet, like repellent magnets.
And as the last screams die,
so begins the gluing back of parts.
But my heart is a half-life heart:
decaying and dividing again, and again.
It folds onto itself, like a supernova.
At every corner, lurks a ghost or demon,
snickering to themselves,
ready with daggers to slit the rubble upon glance.
Every time Shakira’s voice sounds out like a siren’s,
it easily undoes the sutures until I’m a leaky roof. O cada vez oigo la lengua, pierdo la mia
y las palabras solia hablar, amargo en mi boca.
Walking in hallways becomes an inkblot test:
How many faces look like his?
Why must you turn and walk to a corner, gasping for oxygen at the sight of a stranger?
When I see a red sweater in the crowd,
or an imposter with the same wig,
the effect is the same:
following the earthquake, it’s all aftershocks–
from the epicentre of my chest, trembling me,
knocking me down time and time again when I’ve barely risen to my flesh-ripped knees.
I can never see the aquarium the same way without drowning a little.
Looking at a husky rewards me with enduring another paper-cut.
Can you blame me for always drinking from the half-empty cup?
You would rather be with someone halfway around the world,
giving you filtered, sour placebos by the teaspoons,
than I, fully here,
I, pouring out the purest of me in gallons,
I, whose tears dot the page like bullet holes,
I, who has pored over the pages of our histories,
devising stratagems and formulae from words,
mixing compounds and chemicals, needs and wants.
I, who have been a scientist,
not just searching for the cure to my half-life heart,
but to earn yours back.
I, losing the bold experiment to cold fact,
that you no longer desire dusty, expired goods,
while my heart continues to tick away.
I wish I could take back half the times I said, “I love you”,
so the other half shone brighter in your eyes and ears.
When they say a heart breaks,
they speak as if it breaks once.
Although I’ve only read poetry in public a grand total of three times, I’ve forgotten what a great, cathartic experience it can be. Before going to thrilLITERATE tonight, I was pretty nervous, so much so that I found it difficult to have dinner (even though it was brimming with what I assumed to be delicious MSG). When I got to the Rhizome Cafe, though, I felt fine. I knew the worst thing that would happen would be that my mouth would dry up when I read– as if always annoyingly does– but other than that, it really was simple.
Thanks so much to Amber Dawn to always being so supportive. I know I am very clumsy, inarticulate, and probably have some condition that renders me inept at talking to people (but not writing about/to them), but I really do owe her for constantly getting me involved in the community and inspired to do so many wonderful things. It may seem like an easy thing to do, to be supportive, but I never feel like she is just saying things, the way some friends do. She is genuinely supportive, and coming from an atmosphere and culture that doesn’t support artist endeavours, it truly means a lot. She keeps me going in and pursuing what I love in ways she probably doesn’t even know. I’ll write more about her sometime.
I know I only attended twice ever, but I love you, thrilLITERATE!
Hello, everyone! I will be reading some poetry at the last thrilLITERATE event later this month. Here are some details below:
The thrilLITERATE Reading Series has showcased some of Vancouver’s most acclaimed queer and allied authors to raise funds for the women’s literacy program at WISH, a drop-in centre for female survival sex workers in the Downtown Eastside. After nearly five years, organizer and host Amber Dawn is saddened, but ready to retire this community literary event, BUT NOT WITHOUT A FINAL FAREWELL!
Friday February 24 and Saturday 25! Two nights of poetry, storytelling and celebrating literacy as a basic human right!
Friday February 24 Readers include: Elizabeth Bachinsky, Afuwa Granger, Shana Myara, Donna Dykeman, Aaron Chan, Cathleen With, Antonette Rea and Tony Correia,
Saturday February 25 Readers include: Tash Wolfe, Larissa Lai, Terra Poirier, Sonnet L’Abbe, Crystal Sikma, Sigal Samuel and Amber Dawn
Rhizome Cafe, 317 E Broadway
Sliding Scale $5 – $20. 100% of the door goes to the WISH Learning and Literacy Program. Doors 7 pm. Show 7:30, both nights.
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