Introduction to Mandee

this is that sample writing anecdote thingy we were supposed to write for English (when will Mrs. Romano be back? *sob*)

          You say you wish to measure, to quantiqualify my proficiency with the pen, if such a thing can be measured, known or penned in. My pens are broken, unruly rule breakers, possessed by daemon spirits that themselves are possessing. To them, words are but trifles, covered in cherries and cream, and the British conventions are more colourful than they seem. When I was young, my blood was free, but the ink seeped in and turned into me: now I leak out of corners and crannies and cracks, try to sop up these infantile rhymes with burlap sacks.

          And the stains that are botox to my writing desk, the inhuman and inane will never recreate– oh look, the rhymes have left me (or so God may bless me) and I’ve told you much. Or not. Three hundred words to an alphabet’s nirvana, and I could tell you of the gunmetal eyes of a beggar who glowered beneath cold winter skies. Or the time when I dashed from taxi to curb, across four lanes front and back, in the prettiest city that towed the rental car. (But her sins are so easily forgiven!) In the same place, there were nights on balconies and roofs, of fireworks and red bridges. Or the red trees that prop up my soul, or the air we poison by burning coal. That was once red trees or brown furry things, all rotten– see how far we’ve gotten? Most of my life in silly rambling contained. Look well to find what you have gained.

         I have held blackberry infinity in an hour (in my hand) and swallowed it– sour and sweet. A delightful treat. There are green plants here, and green stains that I remember, and sea breaths that carry me I know not whither. There are people for love for whom I weep, there are better poems for which I get no sleep, covered in umlauts and cursive twirls, hypnotic swirls. There is dog hair and cumin and frozen tofu. Lasers, confetti, and fermented kisses stolen at night and prettier ways to the Man I have said “F U!”

         See, I have leaked all over this tabula rasa. Oh, well, there it is – all of me, a gift from pen and heart (or just one little part).

Reviews

[Andromeda]

fantastico! moy fantastico!

[Dressed in Poetry]

You make me jealous with your amazing introduction.