I was trying to figure out what to write about next when I looked through my notes on a future post -- one on Eileen Tabios's poem "Parallel Universe" -- and looked at the lines I'd scribbled:
Gazing through a screen/scrim.
Not black hole.
Primary colors. Of being detached.
Watching in slow motion.
The apostate that I am originally saw it as being religious in nature.
Poet's universe is parallel universe.
On level of sentence.
About art, and the poet, and when will we ever meet?
Somewhere in there: "obviate."
Prose with tiny beaks. Discrete events.
Strings tuning up for the last act.Posted by the wily filipino at August 23, 2003 02:24 PM