Tuesday, January 10, 2012


you yanked the paper from my hands and wouldn't let me have it. it wasn't even finished. i was going to call it 'little girl' because it's about how you're still a child, even though you're also the most grown up person i know. and above all, it was supposed to be really beautiful. the most beautiful thing i would have ever written. because i wanted to make that poem into a bag which would contain all my love for you.

but it had a shitty middle. a really, really shitty middle.

because i lost the middle part on my way to work on my scooter. riding in the mist. most poems come to me when i'm riding. and most of them are forgotten by the time i've hit the brakes. today, all i wanted to do was to rush to school and pick up a pen and put the poem on paper so that it wouldn't vanish altogether and i could give it to you. but i also had class to rush to. i had children to attend to. and i had love to share with them too.

i scattered whatever bit of poetry that had remained on them. they made drawings around basho's old pond. they made laughter amongst themselves. they also made my face into a happy face.

i scattered myself on them too. just like i scatter myself on everything, everywhere i go.

what can i possibly give to you that is whole?

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