GALATEA WILLINGLY STEPS DOWN FROM THE PEDESTAL TO SPEAK

And the Winged Corpse descends into H(e)aven. This Blog shall now rest in peace.

Please feel free to follow the jasmine perfume into moi new blog

THE CHATELAINE'S POETICS

at

http://chatelaine-poet.blogspot.com

where she continues to pare herself down to become ever closer to Poetry...

O ye Negative Energy! You shall be stopped at the Gate!

BACK BRIEFLY FOR SUCH IS THE POWER OF ADOBO!

ROWWRR! ACK!

And nine million and one peeps jump back from their computer screens. Astonished, they watch brief vertical slits appear on their screens, then disappear....fade into a beaming radiance before said screens revert back into the familiar image of the Long-Lashed One....but this time with two cats, one perched on each lovely shoulder.

Sorry, did Artemis's paw startle you? The Corpse beams. My cats aren't de-clawed, but they are very sweet and playful! Anyway, here's grey Artemis who had pawed at your screen....and here's Scarlet the diva. Aren't they precious? And peeps watch for a few minutes while the Angel croons at each feline. Blue wings flare in background....

Blink.

Then Corpse gives back attention to peeps long-starved for her attention. Don't pout. I know you've all missed me. (Thanks for e-mails and recent mentions on blogs despite moi absence; I just flew a quick blog roundabout.) I do promise to come back....and I do promise A VERY SPECIAL TREAT for my RETURN!!! Just check in every now and then as MOI SHALL RETURN!!

But for now, I'm back just because I promised to participate in blogland's first ever

ADOBO BLOG PARTY!!!!

Here's an adobo poem from my forthcoming book, Menage a Trois With the 21st Century! This is part of the Gabriela Silang poems -- hey, what's a Filipino poetic series without an adobo poem?!

Grandmother’s Fable
As Gabriela Pines for Chicken Adobo


I feel I should savor
my childhood measure of a house

where grandmother
gave birth with abundant abandon

where grandmother died
more radiant than a sun’s implosion--

Seashells adorned the sills
for so many windows--

I could feel grandmother’s
disbelief in walls--

Capiz shells introduced
Corot’s “The Origin of the World”

with mica flakes peeling away
as slowly as a vintner’s “bad year”--

A modest interior
refuted jagged angles--

Clouds of cushions
recycled chicken feathers

softening every piece of narra furniture--
Against hand-stitched covers

white lace and silver sequins
collaged together angels

as if they could never fall:
as if a harpsichord could last an eternity--

From this one visit
to grandmother’s house

I choose to immortalize
another woman’s lost history

aided by translucence
and another poet’s “transposition

of birds into daughters”--
Grandmother stewed chickens

with soy, vinegar, salt and pepper--
I always ate more than one helping

foregoing milk for rice wine
as I prefer my tongue

sodden, thus, fulgent--
I feel I should savor

memory as proof:
Someone shall remember you and me

HERMIT POETICS (#2)

Two of my new three babies arrive this week, followed by the third baby in a few weeks. The elves are grinning and prepared.

Then I noticed that the sky is ripped today, with its edges having dissipated into grey. So I have to fly up there and do some repairs, which will necessitate transferring some of the color from my lovely blue wings. Sky should always be blue.

This is all to say: I will be off blogland for probably a while. Probably won't be reading many blogs, either, so if you wish to tell me something, send a backchannel e-mail. Meanwhile, do feel free to backchannel me if you have an answer to:

Why must writing a poem require the poet to be grief-stricken?