20050104
a coagulation of pixels - eileen tabios
first blogged may 27, 2004. a friend recently blogged how nice it would be connecting with someone without even trying, even if it were just through IM.
and i agree.
except when things like the following poem happens. but i can't tell him just yet. he's a wee bit o' college freshman still. i won't be responsible for all his education. 
and i still haven't answered my question. after consuming the poem, i wondered what else could replace 'pixels.' i can see this poem working in the 18th century when express mail meant same-day delivery but after several hours and by horseback. express mail is almost nonexistent overseas. light bent through stained glass? refracted through binoculars? alternately obscured and let through during a thick fall of leaves in a forest? a coagulation of clicks, scratches and switches by radio? 'a clearing of static'? ahahahaha. so messy.
---
the great tabios does it again.
but for this, she should have changed her title - nyc! ahahaha... at least, i saw images of nyc and great expectations when i read this poem.
the word pixel is fairly new. someone reading this from the early 19th century won't understand. what else refracts, breaks apart, bounces light? shattered mirrors, kaleidoscopes, shards of glass? glass balls, stained glass, clear plastic pebbles? haven't those already been written about? ya sure - the internet age and to appeal to the teens. pixels are way too new! we don't want to date ourselves. what else can replace it?
==============================
Eileen Tabios
There are poems that can leave you exhausted, drained. Their intensity gets close to the edge of the bearable -- but they're all the more exhilarating for that. Eileen Tabios has an enormous tonal range in her poetry, a breathless intensity may be her most characteristic mode. As Ron Silliman put it, "Tabios tries for more in one page than many other poets would attempt in 20. And she pulls it off." Her many books of poetry and prose have been published in both the Philippines and the United States -- most recently, Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole (Marsh Hawk Press, 2002) -- and she is the publisher of Meritage Press. [ kultureflash ]
=================
A Coagulation of Pixels
by Eileen Tabios
I never had this conversation with you I never told you of dampness of sheets ripping of a pillow falling onto the floor of right hand circling wrists while left urged thighs farther apart of tendons straining of veins pulsing to a primordial beat I never told you of two bodies wanting nothing less than osmosis and agonizing over the compromise
I never had this conversation with you You never felt me bite your lower lip then quickly back away (oh, fear!) only to have your mouth follow my fearful tongue slipping back into an interior you mapped until its scent became yours You never cupped my face between your palms while you sheathed frustration to demand "Where do you want these kisses to lead"
I never had this conversation with you I never told you something I'd only articulated to shadows at night I never told you something I foretold in poems I wrote as a child I never told you I was the one who ruptured the fragile sieve of my memory so that I will forget what I never told you "I am so alone"
I never had this conversation with you You never heard my latest dream where we entered an apartment that seemed to be mine A wide loft We could feel its warmth The room blossomed into blinding light so that we witnessed no perimeter We saw this limitless space from in front of a door that shut behind you In the dream I never revealed to you we remained within a narrow hallway though there was a huge expanse a few feet away In that hallway I began to whisper an untranslatable language of confusion I started to shake my head But you in an equally untranslatable language refused to give confusion the last word Gently but firmly you pushed me back against the wall so that I remained bound within your embrace So that I couldn't leave which is what I initially felt I should do In this dream whose narrative you never heard from me we came to leave that hallway to enter a room you never promised me in another dream and where after the sun left to attend to other aborted conversations bruises would come to surface to our mutual delight Even the pain of painting lavender against flesh would be better than all the many things that we never shared
I never had this conversation with you I never told you that your poems made me pause linger by your side (stray finger occasionally rising to trace your earlobes) then stay (once I even sat on your lap) I never told you that I was helpless against making one exception after another to rules I so meticulously structured so that I wouldn’t fall through the grid You don't hear me now pleading with you to see me now as I drop as I plummet for you
I never had this conversation with you I never told you that someday I will pause at a city street corner Looking at admiring a greengrocer's display of fresh flowers Winter day but not too cold Coat unbuttoned A hand that will reach for red roses from a thought a hope that caressing waxy petals might release their perfume might un-freeze their fragrance Hear a sound Look up to see you I never told you that I predicted you will not be smiling Your brow in fact will be deeply furrowed For there is so much already that never was between us
I never had this conversation with you I never said hello I never said goodbye This was but a poem you wrote which I memorized to return to you I never had this conversation with you You never heard me You are not clenching your hands now as you don't hear me as you don't wish desperately for your palms to replace an erstwhile breeze for trapping my hair You are not licking your lips now as you remember how in a conversation that never occurred you half-growled half-purred before concluding "You taste delicious You rampant you"
I never spoke You never did not hear I never You never did not I never had this conversation with you where you repeated never repeated "Avidly rampant you" ¶ 1/04/2005 04:30:00 AM
and i agree.
except when things like the following poem happens. but i can't tell him just yet. he's a wee bit o' college freshman still. i won't be responsible for all his education.
and i still haven't answered my question. after consuming the poem, i wondered what else could replace 'pixels.' i can see this poem working in the 18th century when express mail meant same-day delivery but after several hours and by horseback. express mail is almost nonexistent overseas. light bent through stained glass? refracted through binoculars? alternately obscured and let through during a thick fall of leaves in a forest? a coagulation of clicks, scratches and switches by radio? 'a clearing of static'? ahahahaha. so messy.
---
the great tabios does it again.
but for this, she should have changed her title - nyc! ahahaha... at least, i saw images of nyc and great expectations when i read this poem.
the word pixel is fairly new. someone reading this from the early 19th century won't understand. what else refracts, breaks apart, bounces light? shattered mirrors, kaleidoscopes, shards of glass? glass balls, stained glass, clear plastic pebbles? haven't those already been written about? ya sure - the internet age and to appeal to the teens. pixels are way too new! we don't want to date ourselves. what else can replace it?
==============================
Eileen Tabios
There are poems that can leave you exhausted, drained. Their intensity gets close to the edge of the bearable -- but they're all the more exhilarating for that. Eileen Tabios has an enormous tonal range in her poetry, a breathless intensity may be her most characteristic mode. As Ron Silliman put it, "Tabios tries for more in one page than many other poets would attempt in 20. And she pulls it off." Her many books of poetry and prose have been published in both the Philippines and the United States -- most recently, Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole (Marsh Hawk Press, 2002) -- and she is the publisher of Meritage Press. [ kultureflash ]
=================
A Coagulation of Pixels
by Eileen Tabios
I never had this conversation with you I never told you of dampness of sheets ripping of a pillow falling onto the floor of right hand circling wrists while left urged thighs farther apart of tendons straining of veins pulsing to a primordial beat I never told you of two bodies wanting nothing less than osmosis and agonizing over the compromise
I never had this conversation with you You never felt me bite your lower lip then quickly back away (oh, fear!) only to have your mouth follow my fearful tongue slipping back into an interior you mapped until its scent became yours You never cupped my face between your palms while you sheathed frustration to demand "Where do you want these kisses to lead"
I never had this conversation with you I never told you something I'd only articulated to shadows at night I never told you something I foretold in poems I wrote as a child I never told you I was the one who ruptured the fragile sieve of my memory so that I will forget what I never told you "I am so alone"
I never had this conversation with you You never heard my latest dream where we entered an apartment that seemed to be mine A wide loft We could feel its warmth The room blossomed into blinding light so that we witnessed no perimeter We saw this limitless space from in front of a door that shut behind you In the dream I never revealed to you we remained within a narrow hallway though there was a huge expanse a few feet away In that hallway I began to whisper an untranslatable language of confusion I started to shake my head But you in an equally untranslatable language refused to give confusion the last word Gently but firmly you pushed me back against the wall so that I remained bound within your embrace So that I couldn't leave which is what I initially felt I should do In this dream whose narrative you never heard from me we came to leave that hallway to enter a room you never promised me in another dream and where after the sun left to attend to other aborted conversations bruises would come to surface to our mutual delight Even the pain of painting lavender against flesh would be better than all the many things that we never shared
I never had this conversation with you I never told you that your poems made me pause linger by your side (stray finger occasionally rising to trace your earlobes) then stay (once I even sat on your lap) I never told you that I was helpless against making one exception after another to rules I so meticulously structured so that I wouldn’t fall through the grid You don't hear me now pleading with you to see me now as I drop as I plummet for you
I never had this conversation with you I never told you that someday I will pause at a city street corner Looking at admiring a greengrocer's display of fresh flowers Winter day but not too cold Coat unbuttoned A hand that will reach for red roses from a thought a hope that caressing waxy petals might release their perfume might un-freeze their fragrance Hear a sound Look up to see you I never told you that I predicted you will not be smiling Your brow in fact will be deeply furrowed For there is so much already that never was between us
I never had this conversation with you I never said hello I never said goodbye This was but a poem you wrote which I memorized to return to you I never had this conversation with you You never heard me You are not clenching your hands now as you don't hear me as you don't wish desperately for your palms to replace an erstwhile breeze for trapping my hair You are not licking your lips now as you remember how in a conversation that never occurred you half-growled half-purred before concluding "You taste delicious You rampant you"
I never spoke You never did not hear I never You never did not I never had this conversation with you where you repeated never repeated "Avidly rampant you" ¶ 1/04/2005 04:30:00 AM
