Collected PoemsAutumn 2013

iv

Poets

How To21, Unlocking Doors

Winter is Here

InventoryThe Family from America

Containment

type into google

prayer for the late entreaties of a wooden floor Shame you foilRust takes to metal with dubious grace

SHOWERTHE HUNT

Lily Pfaff

Camille Montano

Marisha Lozada

Frederick Powell

Sequoyah Madison

Kathy Wu

Sarah Plummer

Sarah Wang

01

03

10

08

07

04

12

14

How To21, Unlocking Doors

Winter is Here

InventoryThe Family from America

Containment

type into google

prayer for the late entreaties of a wooden floor Shame you foilRust takes to metal with dubious grace

SHOWERTHE HUNT

Row Bee

~

The PassingA Reminder

Loss is not a List

Thank you

Sayings from My GrandmotherDear Regret

The Pickup Artist

Goya Malta

periodIn my dream, in my garden

Co

ntents

Cayman Robson

Corey Comenitz

Charlotte Acevedo

Peter Young

Cara Lowe

Rena Rong

Melanie Patterson

Dariel Filomeno

Joshua Shiau

19

28

20

29

27

23

32

33

34

for Rick Benjamin,bad-ass teacher & poet.

viii

ix

x

1

slough off your skin to leavewhere it lies, do not swallowyourself as you curlout of bed

gag conveniencewith your comfortin the bloody heelof a felicitous bendby the familiar road

unclench the right fistand enlist both hands, to feelall sidesof one whole love

speak with the dinof one thousand mouthsplungedto a dead hush.

How To

Lily Pfaff

2

21, Unlocking Doors

Use the brass colored key for the front stoopalways hold your breath in case the bowing blade breakssavor the small gasp of a popped dooras you’re slung into a tower of thick stale aira stairwell with impossible scuffs on its sidesevidence of evicted tenants clawing(your own lore) tooth and nailresign your legs to the two-flight climbpast the scrunched paper drywalland the squat wooden railing of your floor

the silver key is for your apartmentremember which way to twist for the deadboltwhich to turn for the doorknobit took three weeks to learn how farto insert the blade into each lockbefore their pins warmed to your handforfeiting in front of your fistwithout snickering prattle

Lily

Pfa

ff

3

Cam

ille Mo

ntano

curled against the elements,relentlessly torment.

shoulder bone-wings folded

frozen eyelashes,causingtunnel vision

hunched

waiting for the light,to warm body and melt troubles

stretch out on flat stone,water delights arches of feet

warmth streams throughlattice of green

Everything will be alright.

Winter is Here

4

measure each day hairand growth of fingernailsnumber of miles trodweight subtracting clothes

take note, count pebblesfor today’s joy, teaspoonsfor sadness, exactto the milliliter

tally fears, calculatedensity of a jarof dirt—how muchyou’re missing home

sometime next monthrealize a mountainhad grown beneathre-measure everything

Inventory

Kat

hy

Wu

5

We scratchat dirt on the stoopof the old family house—

milk, biscuits, liquorfor the shu shu’s and yi ma’s,a village I could hold

in my hand.Gestures that feellike returning—

Welcome Home, a tableset with rice, fish.Pavement, blue jeans,

toilets, vaccinesthings they do not have.As half-bare children bat stray cats

great aunts grin withshingle teeth,towards grand-daughters—

The Family from America

Kath

y Wu

6

Look, she bore us a son.My father laughs,tucking chopsticks,

stretching a promiselike rope across oceans,while my brother,

the last of the Wu family men,forgets Chineseat the rate of falling.

Kat

hy

Wu

7

silence Shrugsnods No validationPassive Aggressive commentsSarcastic complimentsUnconstructive CriticismUnnecessary comparisonskeep dreams Contained

Stab your neighbor with the Blade of your wordsDon't think before acting speaking reactingand you will most definitely end upContained with the victims you Target

Containment

Sequ

oyah

Mad

ison

8

first page is a dud

but second link offers a list of fifteen specific things (only fifteen?)

- the accent- the Queen- Prince William- the history- the way of life- the food- the thatched roof- the little cars- the telephones- 007- Monty Python- THE SIMON (Cowell)- the drama- the music- the literature

go back a page and type: why are the British so obsessed with the USA?

type in google:why are Americans so obsessed with the UK?

Fred

eric

k P

ow

ell

9

find a trusty BBC article that offers ten specific things

- the portion sizes- the service- friendly folk- salty-sweet food- no royal family- bigger homes- tv and film- toilet seat covers- diners- the opening hours

deduce that the English love clean toilets and salted caramel,while Americans all want to be driven by Simon Cowell in a small little car.

God Save the Queen Obamas (especially Sasha)

Frederick P

ow

ell

10

prayer for the late

i am a closet shy of lacetoo close to fragile wordswithout a length of thread to lendfor stitches pink or blue.

Mar

ish

a Lo

zad

a

11

entreaties of a wooden floor

press dirt into the expanse of my mouthwax my teeth to a shine

drip oil against my chapped lipswipe the dust from my navel

comb my skin with thatched branches anddo not forget that i swallow

all that you have saidand all that you will say.

Marish

a Lozad

a

12

Sar

ah P

lum

mer

wrapped sphinx:Go on, lap froth fromthis basin. My selfhood (a tiny, spent thing)rests somewhere in there-tight knotted ampersandbetween sharp clause. Gargle and spitso I can cling to your plaquelike it clings to your fangs.

Shameyou foil

13

lassoing my waistin one strokeyou draw up my scent from lank height:pepper, guaiac, vetiver.

Its hard to thinkI was one of two kids splintering each other

He could smell metoo, followed my smoke to its fire.

Rust takes to metal with dubious grace

Sarah

Plu

mm

er

14

Breathing warm humid air is a pleasant chorebetween four wallsa doorand an imperfect gapsoap myself to ashthe future is fumbling at the knob with wet handsi make her waitonly i can take that clockwise turnto choke the spouttime and gravity know what they wantthey're really going placesbut i am still fumbling

behind the curtainthere is a mysterious order to it, andi know only how to be honest to a certain extent

trying is hard and so is giving upspecks of water dropdespite the mountains they have climbed

SHOWER

Sar

ah W

ang

15

Breathing warm humid air is a pleasant chorebetween four wallsa doorand an imperfect gapsoap myself to ashthe future is fumbling at the knob with wet handsi make her waitonly i can take that clockwise turnto choke the spouttime and gravity know what they wantthey're really going placesbut i am still fumbling

behind the curtainthere is a mysterious order to it, andi know only how to be honest to a certain extent

trying is hard and so is giving upspecks of water dropdespite the mountains they have climbed

heard Bruce Lee showered with his clothes onnever had to do laundrywhat is possible once i am clean

magic?the sun isn't on its waybut i search for ...chlorophyll knows the tallest trees are made of water and, breath and lightsprout from rubble feeti am made of water and foodbread or ricemaybe in my neutral and naked state, within the white cube of the shower, it doesn't have tomatteri am probably in denialeither wayi suspect my stubbornness is a type of confusionor vice versa

think stone thoughts

animals look sad when drenchedwhales are always gleaming

Sarah

Wang

16

i want to shinethe way teeth shonewhite before that first bitepurity of heart got us that farand i am still learning the names of things

i've probably forgotten more than half my yearsbut they still showerosion is slow butcan't you see them showing?S

arah

Wan

g

17

i want to shinethe way teeth shonewhite before that first bitepurity of heart got us that farand i am still learning the names of things

i've probably forgotten more than half my yearsbut they still showerosion is slow butcan't you see them showing?

what lies behindeyes glazed with rain water

searching for familiar shadowsas honey for hexagonal form

flows through fingersto what gravity of truth

lead the mapsin the folds of our palms

what do they holdfor our intangible understanding

a fistful of blessingsdying to bloom

in ever-shifting seasonand the winding of tectonic musclesslow and constant

stretching underinfinitely elastic masks

THE HUNT

Sarah

Wang

18

the wet and shining messbelow the skin

molten and glowingdoes it look alive?

a chasmstatic as a name

i recognize each reflectionof its echo

Sar

ah W

ang

19

Caym

an Ro

bso

n

your onetrue lovehad a broken neck

its natural for youto go out like that

when droppedand swungstrung together as one

cases open for 500miles away over double

rethoughtreworkedboth collect dirt

Row Bee

20

Ch

arlo

tte

Ace

ved

o

~

I’d like to be able to write on the walls The way the house was leftafter your spirit left the housefollowed by questions aboutwhat we leavefrom what we doand what that looks like maybe I need to make noise in a different way

21

A comet comes aroundand I don’t believe in coincidences maybe it’ll reveal which way I’m supposed to go He sat down everyday and wrote “nothing,” about each day’s happenings of the days he lived.And the fact that he sat down everyday to write “nothing,”meant that he thought something was actually going to happen tomorrow.

~

Ch

arlotte A

cevedo

22

23

The Passing

Rena R

ong

I figured I could always ask you laterhow to grow winter melonsin the summer you offeredto show me that morning butI found something elseto do instead

24

Ren

a R

ong

File down your serrated edgesteeth too eager to sinkfurther into flesh

Can you not leavethat snag toothed creatureon the side of the roadwhere you found it?

I leave the strays be.

Palms up against calloused words¬pointed in mid jablet them haunt others

Please no needfor surrender surelythere must bea better way

A Reminder

25

26

27

Cara Lo

we

It is a crumpled versepressed into my hand—words your dad can’t speak,we stand next toyour grave.

Loss is not a List

28

Thank you

Co

rey

Co

men

itz

I don’t remember your voiceI’ll always remember what you did for mebut I cannot remember your voiceYou allowed me to see thingsthat the morphine couldn’t dreamThis pessimistic statisticfaceless name braceletnow sees a future because yousaw my eyesYou called me oncebut I wasn’t homeI have your numberand a namebut I have not heard your voiceand I cannot remember the faceof the woman who saved my life

29

Sayings from My Grandmother

Peter Yo

ung

come here!where are you going?

help me dig a hole here!I want to plant some vegetables

your face is so thin...here eat this!I cooked it for you

always greet your teachersbefore and after classit's very important

stop washing with so much soap!do you want to eat soapy rice?here, like this, just scrub with hot waterI never washed dishes with soap growing up

what happened to that girlwho came over last time?I thought she was nice

30

what are you studying again?well, make sure you work hard!

ah, you're here, are you on break?I have to see you graduate college

We called her ai jie.

Pet

er Y

ou

ng

31

You think you meanwell, coming in tospell out how I amallowed pictures, memories,picturesof scarredheart.

Ancient teachings cautionagainst overreaching flyingtoo close to the sun,seduced by freedomof skimming water

Just now,this silk atopsheets ground teethwhen I'm workinghard starvedfor connectionI've carced myselfinto your heart.

Dear Regret

Peter Yo

ung

32

I'm gonna give you some advice:The internet's sucky,Especially if you are famous-Cover your ass quickly.

Don't live a high profile lifeAnd brag of it to me,With your man thong model photosOnline for me to see.

The Pickup Artist

Mel

anie

Pat

ters

on

33

I'm gonna give you some advice:The internet's sucky,Especially if you are famous-Cover your ass quickly.

Don't live a high profile lifeAnd brag of it to me,With your man thong model photosOnline for me to see.

Sweet bitter tar in a bottleReminiscent of childhood disastersAnd scenes of watching Mighty Morphing Power RangersIn tighty whities, on dirty carpeted floorsSurrounded by creaky winterIt was cheap,cheap enough to buy with hidden bronze treasures between cushionsA dollar a pop,

looking to fathers joining themKnowing one day WE too will inherit their murky bottlesAlong with their "Barrio"Burnt umber glass holding the burnt umber poisonOf this burnt umber life, "nunca los vas a dejar," it criesThe weight of history, blood stained upper lips, hauntingBreath, and cavity filled adolescents

Non alcoholicNon alcoholic

AlcoholicNever would have thought it was alcoholic.

Goya Malta

Dariel Filo

meno

34

35

Josh

ua S

hiau

My eyes are blackto betterabsorbthe lights crossing the horizon

as our own orb unwindsin slow furious circles

to remind me that I ammy father’s son

period

36

I had six chairsof vine and iron

that did not wait for loves I’d never meet

to sit and sinkfour columns deep

into soilrusting and rooting

drawing watergenerous and pooling

until it fell

in sheets

back into earth

In my dream, in my garden

Josh

ua

Sh

iau

37

weaned from the teat of malice

- Emily Law & Cara Lowe (California Divas)

Colophon

This book was set in Bembo Book Regular,

Adobe Caslon Italic, & Akzidenz Grotesk Medium.

Printed on Neenah Classic Crest.

Conceived during Finals Week.

Designed by Kathy Wu.

RISD 2013.

Photographs by:

Rena Rong, viii-x, 22, 25, 26, 38-41.

Joshua Shiau, 34, 37.

Kathy Wu, inner cover, table of contents.

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