…and also for excuses, of which I have a great deal — though, since I assume you all don’t care to read a post about all the schoolwork I have to do and how it’s the busy season at work and family trips hogging up time and paperwork that needs to be filed and doctor trips to be scheduled and how my life is just too hard and boo wah sob sob, I’ll just offer my apologies for neglecting my blog. Except apologies doesn’t start with E. I’ll give you my epologies?
(I just googled “epology” and apparently it’s an apology offered electronically. I’m such a genius, knowing words I didn’t even know.)
So, I think I’ve pretty much failed at this whole A to Z Challenge thing. Like, I think maybe I missed a day or two or fourteen. But it’s been fun blogging the alphabet, so I’m gonna keep doing it. Any complaints? Really? Well, who cares, it’s my blog I can do what I want to. MUAHAHAHAHAHA!
I’m sorry. I’ve drunk like a gallon of caffeine today and I only got about five hours of sleep last night. So I’ll just move on to the meat of this post.
we were eating Chinese at my place.
paper packages scattered across the table, tabs stuck open–
scents spilling over.
noodles flick my nose, dribble down my chin.
ha, u pig, says Joey.
bits of sugar-coated cardboard broken open with a crack,
horoscopes and fate, silly things.
what’s your lucky number? who will you marry? who
should you not?
tug, my fortune pulls free.
u ok? Amber says.
yeah, I say. ha, my fortune’s blank.
the 1 in ur cookie? Joey says.
lemme see, says Dean.
I open the slip, flip it
blank, empty, nothing.
wat, says Amber.
haha, says Dean.
you got no fortune, Joey says.
you got no fortune.
I send a smile,
so they know I know it’s a joke.
but I can’t help but stare at the stark, blank whiteness
of my empty fortune
as it falls
from my fingers
to the floor.
loud, in the silence.
lonely, in the emptiness.
This poem is probably the oddest thing I’ve ever written. (And that’s saying something, all things considered.) I think I love it. Or maybe I hate it. It’s remarkable how similar those emotions are.
Anyway, I wrote this for a poetry class. We’ve been studying various techniques and styles, and reading through lots and lots and lots of contemporary poetry. Some of the sort of minimalistic styles caught my attention, and I felt inspired to try it out myself. Or maybe I was just drunk. (Except I don’t drink, but I suppose reading too much poetry could cause the same effect.)
So, I’m curious — what did you all think? Do you like minimalist styles? Or is it just lazy writing? Do you think that writing that way can accomplish anything? Do you think my poem accomplished anything? Did you catch any hidden morals or messages in my poem? (Hint: There was supposed to be a hidden message, but I think I made it too subtle.)