Wonder – A Poem + Updates on Life

Reading in Between_Wonder_Poem

Note: So this week, the #StrangeLit story anthology groupings were announced and was hit with a surreal (to me, at least) reality—I can now consider myself a published author.

Oh sure, I’ve been on print before; but those were for school. I’m not saying that school publications suck, but you have to admit that you have to admit that tender “artiste” feelings are protected in those environments. Granted, the environment that led to my post-scholastic publication is just as supportive and I stalked met amazing new people (hi Kaith, Tara, Luna, Ysa, Anne, and Krissy! I’m sending you some admittedly meager linkjuice). Still, getting fiction/poetry published OUTSIDE of school feels like validation.

It fills me with a sense of wonder. And thus, this poem “Wonder” (which I hope you like).

PS: Because I’m trying to stretch myself, I might transition back to doing more than just poetic posts on this blog. Probably won’t stop the poetry completely, though. Poetry comes at you in the dark like an eloquent thug.

PPS: If you’re in the Philippines, and if you want to get a FREE copy of the bundle my story is part of, drop by the Buqo booth at the Manila International Book Fair on September 16-20 and donate a book.

Reading in Between_Wonder_Poem

And who was it that said

that there is no universe where leaves

are the color of feathers

on the vainest of birds?

I wonder who

can prove that hues do not

drip through edges like excess paint

like tears in eyes of other dimensions?

I ask:

what perspective is brightest

on its own?

I Wish I Were Weird Al

Over the last week, whether I was working or just hanging out, I found myself listening to Weird Al Yankovic’s new songs over and over and over again, to keep me upbeat.

It’s probably obvious what my favorite song is:

Because what else would it be?

Thomas William Hiddleston
Yes, I’m serious about this – stop looking at me like that, Thomas.

Of course, his other songs are awesome too. If one of those songs couldn’t bring a smile to your face, then you are a robot. A dangerous, mutant-hunting robot. Or at least a Cyberman. Either way, you probably have trouble understanding the value of silliness.

Believe me, silliness can be pretty damned valuable if you’re starting to get really down from the gloomy weather (which I am; not even good food and Harry Dresden can help me at this point).

This is why I wish I were Weird Al. It’s not because he’s probably making money right now after totally winning the Internet. It’s because he brings so much happiness to the world. I haven’t been doing that much over the last few months. I can barely even give MYSELF some joy, and I’m supposed to be the chirpy, happy, friendly one in the family (according to my mother). A huge part of my desire to write is hinged on my desire to entertain people. Weird Al does this for a living, is BRAVE enough to do this for a living.

Meanwhile, I content myself with the relative excitement of learning new things. After all, marketing is just as awesome.

It just never sounds like this: