This is not a poem.

Thinkers:
Are the notions of reason and logic local to particular geo-historical contexts?
Discuss.

got sick of convalescing in my apartment today, so I walked down to the Indian strip in journal square for some uthappam, chaat and masala tea. I know all this stuff is from southern india, but it works really well on freezing cold but somehow rainy grew days. I forgot to bring a book with me, so I eat while watching indian mtv on a big highdef screen. lots of gyrating in saris, occasional references to a swords and armor glorious past, cool indian men all have facial hair, commercials for products from hindustan unilver.

from saris and swords,
the universal language emerges:
hello, kylie minogue!

dissonance

statue: a minor disney mouse from old
cinema's lost and found, unpainted, bare,
all but ignored in children's screams and squeals,
how do you keep grabbing my eye, teasing
as sidelong views of Ganesh, winking?

An Unattributed Letter

Thank you for your letter of condolences
about my eldest sister and my poor second junior
brother-in-law. Their bodies were interred
at the quarter moon, according to custom.
Poor Eldest Sister! We had planned to go
wine-tasting in the Lakes Province in Spring.
I will feel the lack of her when the snows clear!
But, my friend, may we all die as she did -
slain by a virile senior husband
at the height of our beauty! It is decorous,
and quite preferable to slowly falling
into senility while our junior husbands,
who once looked on us with admiration
and desire, wipe our toothless mouths
with pity leaning toward disgust. Our senior
husbands - they are our constant danger
in our youth, and our deliverers in middle age.
As for my poor senior brother-in-law -
I hear that they will hang him. I would go
to the capital and argue for commutation
to exile, except that he killed her children.

On break at Ethics Writing Workshop

Humiliating oneself in front of philosophy people
is exactly as terrible
as humiliating oneself in front of actual people.

Ethics Writing Workshop, 2007

Presenting a paper soon;
can't control my thoughts,
fever burning.

Hand shaking while
I wipe -
now my finger smells of shit.

Why my mother would either make a shitty DJ, or a most awesome one.

I asked my mother which CDs my father would like for Christmas, and she proceeded to tell me which discs to buy. I quote:

1. That CD with the song by the chick who sings about "I want to go to the beach and tell everyone to fuck off."

2. A CD by that one with the hair and the nice voice. Have you heard her? You know who she is, right?

3. He also really likes that Spanish cucaracha one who I can't stand.

4. And maybe some of that one who's like Rachael Ray, only worse.




(Answer Key: 1. Sheryl Crow, "All I Wanna Do"; 2. Sarah Brightman; 3. Astrud Gilberto; 4. I have no fucking idea, and I don't want to know.)

A case study illuminating why the U.S. higher education system is going to shit.

At tonight's Department faculty meeting, before the majority voted to get rid of the History Major language requirement despite protests by *two* (two) of us: "Who gets anything out of a year of foreign language study, anyway?"

Re-member me to Herald Square

As the Q leaves Times Square, there's no seat.
"If you stand, I'll suck deep on your meat."
So I stand and think, "Groovy,
this is just like the movie
with a Mir'cle on Thirty-Fourth Street."

reports from elsewhere

I. The space you occupy and the space you occupy.

Staying in my father's place in Miami. Rowan and I are sleeping in my father's wife's granddaughter's room. It looks as through the decorators couldn't decide between a princess theme and a fairy theme, so they split the difference. It is very, very, ..., so very pink. With faries. And princesses.


II. Leadership, trust, responsibilty. sanity optional.

This morning, I was granted command of a house filled with three people under the age of five. I guaranteed at least two of the four house occupants would be living by the time the other adults returned. Maybe three, if things broke my way. This was deemed sufficient for command to be granted.

III. Gender, or, It All Starts with Kindness and Consideration

My not quite two year old son spends today playing with two girls at least two years his senior. Two year olds and four year olds are very different beasts. At first, one is offering soft, fluffy toys that might help him nap.

IV. Gender, or, No Means No.

Later that morning, one girl is burried under some pillows, and R is doing what he always does when people and deep pillows are involved -- repeated tackling. The recipient of such attention asks me 'why is he doing this, why doesn't he stop?' while screaming 'stop' with delight. The other girl is standing incensed, hands on hips, demanding 'it's my turn.'


V. Gender, or, you have no idea.

I hear R crying from the next room. I find R picking himself up from the ground, as though he had just fallen -- not that big a deal. Girl one promptly says 'he hit me.' Girl two then 'he hit me, too.' 'he hit me hard' 'he hit me harder.' R is so far in over his head, he simply has no idea.

VI. Culture and Consumerism

After waiting in line for a short forever at a mall, we finally get to the front of the picture with santa line. It's an upscale mall -- looks like they sprung for a santa with a real beard. The three children are marched forward, and R promptly starts bawling on contact with Santa Claus. As I carry him away, I am secretly proud.

VII.

the pink faries watch us, languid eyes
lazily frozen, printed, set. we can't
amuse them. they have seen all this
before.

Gift idea for a certain couple in my life

Hey! We could buy
the strap-on for her,
and the lube for him!

Cold grey outside -
hot tea and
goat cheese in here!


Exclamation points -
as I get older,
I trust you more.

In the flat grey light
this chewed dog toy -
pink, covered with tentacles,
squid-head divided in half
like a pair of flat buttcheeks,
faded pink, covered with
queasy grey dried dog drool -
is the worst thing I've ever seen.

on living with curator

My coffee grounds
and her paper pulp
are fighting a battle
over the kitchen.

Wu Tang skit fading
into Nick Drake -
iPod Shuffle.


Fresh load
on my iPod Shuffle
- feels like spring!

From Lady Fong to Lady Yi

It is my great honor to be married
to the only man in Hunan Province
that Lady Yi will not accomodate!
How remarkable; you say you are too dainty
for my second junior husband's schlong,
but he assured me that your senior husband
had no problem with it after you fell asleep.
Anyway, I suppose the lad is nearly twenty-three -
much too old for you, you lecherous hag.
The next time you come to visit,
I must remember to lock up my sons.
After all, the eldest is nearly nine.
I will see you at aerobics class,
but I can't come for Tichu. Don't bother
asking Lady Tsai; she has already borrowed
my second junior husband for herself.
I doubt we will see her in society for a week!
Don't go near her bedroom; you'll hear her yowling
like a stuck cat. Sincerely, Lady Fong

On the Way to the Floating Palace

On the night before my departure,
the only evidence of my senior husband
was the light spilling under the door of his study.
This morning, his body was warm in my bed,
but he couldn't be roused.
Last night my junior husband and I
rolled like puppies on the silk rug,
and he wouldn't meet my eyes when I left
for my senior husband's quarters.
This morning, he was playing soccer with my sons.

Riding with my sisters to the floating palace,
we meditate on the ways of men.
A woman could buy ten husbands, and still have no one
to see her off on a month-long pilgrimage!
To be alone is the natural state of a woman.
My youngest sister suggests breakfast.

From Lady Yi to Lady Fong

My dear Lady Fong, how courteous of you
to lend me your newest junior husband
when you yourself have had him but a month!
However, I must return him to you untried.
Wherever did you find him - a stable?
Until now, I had thought those Hokusai prints
were caricatures! When I saw his member,
I thought, Lady Fong is even more of a filthy slut
than I had supposed! When you are pregnant,
you must be vigilant in case your child
falls out unexpectedly. I am glad we are not lovers;
even my entire arm would leave you unsatisfied.
Next time instead of borrowing one of my husbands,
why don't you borrow one of my oxen?
The ox probably wouldn't even notice the difference
between you and the heifers, except that you talk more.
Will I see you for tea on Wednesday?
We need a fourth for Tichu. Sincerely, Lady Yi

Imaginary Works from the Lost Women's Script

Guys I am working on some poems. I will be posting them one by one. They're all conceptual so I need to post some background.

So China has sucked for women for hundreds of years, and they didn't even let them have no book learning until the last few decades. Anyway in at least one place (possibly others) the women developed this special written language, "nushu" or women's writing, for sending each other gossip and whatever else women talk about (shopping and make-up tips?). They used it secretly for the most part. Apparently the last woman literate in the Southern Hunan nushu just died (in 2004).

Here is some general information. If you have access to Harper's Online, find the article called "Whores Whisperer" which is an awesome translation of one nushu letter.

So my things are imaginary translations of nonexistent letters and things in this nushu script. I hope you enjoy them.

Roll Call.

What are you reading right now? Is it buttering your banana?

Actual Question Asked by Montana Census Bureau Representative on the Phone 5 Minutes Ago. (Mommy, Please Get Me Out Of Here.)

Do you consider yourself
a member of
the white race?

Dirty Little Secrets

1. I read the New York Times "Weddings and Celebrations" section every Sunday. Really. I actually scan through all the names to check for people I know. The longest dry spell so far has been 3 weeks. Understand me: at least once every 3 weeks I know at least one member of a couple in the NYT Weddigs listings. That's not only pathetic, but it's pathetic in some indeterminate interesting way.

2. Actually, I check it on Saturday night, because that's when the new ones are posted.

13 Ways of Looking at Daniel

1.

The beard of a Jew
is not the soul of a Jew.



2.

What is a chicken, if it is not being eaten by Daniel?
A chicken is an edible thing.
Daniel is an unbroken thing.



3.

I wouldn't let a horse sniff my books
because he might eat them
but I would let Daniel.



4.

The hole in his gums
is a hole in my heart.



5.

The bristle of his beard
would filter coffee well.


6.

The tattoo that he doesn't have
on his forehead
reads: "ARETE."



7.

Fuck you!
I wouldn't
let you
see Daniel
not even
with your not-even
eyes,
asshole!



8.

For you,
I have the gift
of not-too-much-affection.



9.

In a cafe
we hear rain
drops of Daniel
falling.



10.

There are no different girls,
only one girl
with two thousand faces.



11.

The eye twinkles
because light
shines on it.



12.

This comic book -
has breasts in it,
Daniel.




13.

The soul of a Jew
burns in my eye
like a blue candle
made of whale blubber.