A Small Choir Replies to Minh-Huyen's MySpace Bulletin

Minh-Huyen may never ride a bull.
We can't derive exactly where her
bleakness bleats. We've lied our
teeth to slush concerning what we
did, shit, Friday night, so many --

  We shook ginger into teenage winks.
  We gabbed acorns across our desks.

Sara and Jes had giggled the pizza boy
out of boxers, while Minh-Huyen said
she'd watched TV, saw Boy Meets World,
but no one heard her, so she just
stenciled triangles into the wood.

We wanted to entice a creamnecked mink
who got sleepy as cinnamon and said
large things about the things we lacked.
Minh-Huyen, we said dumb things about
Paul Simon writing songs for his faucet --

  We scented ourselves with documented gaps.
  We stole baggy clothes from jailed folk.

We heard the funk of the flannel lady
screaming to joggers at the bus stop,
and we heard our capos clamping
as we sang high and hoped for saltwater.

And we can't say still that we would raze
a secret cornfield and spackle it neon,
buy you a bull or tip you a shot,
save you any toys or touch your tongue --

  Hearts like ours would fail to wrinkle silk.
  You own the sea we've attempted to film.


Bryan said...

i like this poem.

-che gueverra, revolutionary

i like this poem.

-bryan coffelt, whisper

Bryan said...

here are the reasons i (bryan coffelt) like this poem:

1.) the language is intense. it's like a rope tightening on my skin the more i read.

2.) the language does not assert its intensity. i'm not going to quote anything in particular, but i think you know what i mean. if not, go wrestle a goat.

3.) normally i would say "get rid of the distracting couplets" but the couplets aren't distracting. they solidify the 'feeling' of the poem. they make it solid. not liquid-y.

now: someone argue with me and tell mike his poem sucks, and why.

Mike Young said...

Or someone say anything.

Thanks, B.

Jess said...

This poem is an odd journey for me. For the bulk of it I am reminded of summer in a very small town, sitting in my friend's basement and trying to avoid breaking down and just going to hand out in the McDonald's parking lot. But there's a sensitivity at the end that made me sort of indifferent to the rest of the poem, in parts like "that we would raze a secret cornfield and spackle it neon" and the final two lines.

Ditto on Bryan in terms of the couplets - that structure works for me a lot. And, I don't know, maybe I'm not made indifferent about the beginning, because the language is really, I don't know, squirmy or something.

I'm definately pro-this-poem.

Mike Young said...

Thanks, Jessica. Squrimy -- I like that.

What do you mean "hand out in the McDonald's parking lot?"

Jess said...

Hmm...that's more interesting than I meant to write. Hang out is what I was going for, but I think I like the typo better. Maybe we were harassing customers with bibles or pictures of mutilated chickens. Maybe we were selling ourselves.

Mike Young said...

I thought of 2/3 of those things.