a small selection of my favorite poems in English
Jeffrey McDaniel
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
In an effort to get people to look
into each other's eyes more,
and also to appease the mutes,
the government has decided
to allot each person exactly one hundred
and sixty-seven words, per day.
When the phone rings, I put it to my ear
without saying hello. In the restaurant
I point at chicken noodle soup.
I am adjusting well to the new way.
Late at night, I call my long distance lover,
proudly say I only used fifty-nine today.
I saved the rest for you.
When she doesn't respond,
I know she's used up all her words,
so I slowly whisper I love you
thirty-two and a third times.
After that, we just sit on the line
and listen to each other breathe.
The Secret
Jeffrey McDaniel
When you were sleeping on the sofa
I put my ear to your ear and listened
to the echo of your dreams.
That is the ocean I want to dive in,
merge with the bright fish,
plankton and pirate ships.
I walk up to people on the street that kind of look like you
and ask them the questions I would ask you.
Can we sit on a rooftop and watch stars dissolve into smoke
rising from a chimney?
Can I swing like Tarzan in the jungle of your breathing?
I don't wish I was in your arms,
I just wish I was peddling a bicycle
toward your arms.
Once More, the Minister
EJ Galang
It seems the real triumph of our age has been our ongoing movement
Away from harm – its many sources more than its pain; from dark alleys –
Its stealth more than its assassins; from descent – the anticipation of demise
More than the demise. Nature has been quick to compensate, now
Sends the wind to deliver its judgement. We now die without
Moving from our beds. The only remaining torture: our hearts
And our quiet ways of remembering. These we will always endure.
Notice, in an evening ripened by cold weather, when the clouds
Have moved elsewhere, and the sky, baring all of its ammunition,
Dazzling and infinite, has shot us down with unbearable longing,
Those of us with distance between our many loves
Cannot do anything as delicate as bend.
EJ Galang
It seems the real triumph of our age has been our ongoing movement
Away from harm – its many sources more than its pain; from dark alleys –
Its stealth more than its assassins; from descent – the anticipation of demise
More than the demise. Nature has been quick to compensate, now
Sends the wind to deliver its judgement. We now die without
Moving from our beds. The only remaining torture: our hearts
And our quiet ways of remembering. These we will always endure.
Notice, in an evening ripened by cold weather, when the clouds
Have moved elsewhere, and the sky, baring all of its ammunition,
Dazzling and infinite, has shot us down with unbearable longing,
Those of us with distance between our many loves
Cannot do anything as delicate as bend.
If Fear is Like a Rock
If fear is like a rock, then I am a hammer.
If sorrow is a fire, I am the sea.
When it comes, my heart increases its strength;
Like the moon that shines brighter when the darkness falls.
If sorrow is a fire, I am the sea.
When it comes, my heart increases its strength;
Like the moon that shines brighter when the darkness falls.
