Reileen van Kaile

The first version of this was written while bored in HAA115 one day - which was actually canceled today for whatever reason.

Lament to the Wordmaster

Wordmaster, hear me, pity me, grant me this chance:
Why does my pen refuse to behave in my hands?
Why are my words born dead from my throat?
Why am I unable to drink from the cosmic well
Of tales to be told, though I thirst more
Than a fool who wanders Saharan shores?

Wordmaster, I know I am an imperfect tool for You
To record the many events that never once happened true
But let my blood flow as Your ink
Let my crippled fingers dance once more
In honor of Your wisdom and wit without end
For it is upon You that my own talents depend.

***

So, y'all are familiar with Chuck Norris "facts", right? Like "Chuck Norris can kill two stones with one bird" and "Chuck Norris CAN believe it's not butter" and all those other things.

In light of Norris' most recent act of fail-fu (which he started training extensively in a couple of years back), I offer up, instead, substantially more awesome Bill Nye facts. Nope, no scare quotes this time. Because they're true.

Bill Nye can split atoms with his bare hands.

Bill Nye decides if Schroedinger's Cat is alive or dead.

Bill Nye can rhyme seven words with orange.

Bill Nye invented inventing.

When Chuck Norris has a problem, he asks Bill Nye.

Some people can recite the first few thousand digits of pi. Bill Nye can recite the last thousand digits of pi.

The reason light is so fast is because it's running away from Bill Nye.

Bill Nye drinks water with ice cubes that read at below 0 Kelvin.

***

Okay, time to figure out what to do for my ART227 and ART264 sketches. Mrr, I am so tired. Probably 'cause I've been drinking Dr. Pepper instead of Mountain Dew since we ran out of the Dew in the house.

-Reileen
you feed it once and now it stays

Origami
by Marjorie M. Evasco

The word unfolds, gathers up wind
To speed the crane's flight
North of my sun to you.

I am shaping this poem
Out of paper, folding
Distances between our seasons.

This poem is a crane.
When its wings unfold,
The paper will be pure and empty.

-

Origami
(Cebuano version)

Mibukhad kining pulong, mitigom sa hangin
Pagpadali sa lupad sa talabon
Amihanan sa akong adlaw, ngadto kanimo.

Gilalang ko kining balak
Gikan sa papel, gipilo-pilo
Ang gilay-on sa atong panahon.

Kining balak usa ka talabon.
Inig bukhad sa iyan pako,
Ang papel motin-aw ug mahawan.

***

So far this year, I've read 53 books. Not too bad.

-Reileen
I don't mind telling you my life was ended by your hands