Karaoke Night

I have gone out for karaoke but the world
says otherwise. There is a line I think not

to cross. Surely someone I know, surely a boundary
full of music and atmosphere to let me be

myself and allow the frogs to consider me
a peer, rhythmic applause with their throats.

What a swamp I have become–
I wish I were the Everglades,

as relentlessly mosquito. As hot. As I am a thousand
miles from my destination though

you say I am close in this way. The roundabouts
of the city. How long have I not known how

this would end? That it would
end? Back of the line.

(originally published in The Wise Owl, Summer 2024)

Schizotrope

Finale was the first program I used to
compose music, in eighth grade, back
when my concern was to score colorful,
simple role-playing games I had created
with RPG Maker 2000. A couple years
later, I used new software, hunched
in the dark of my mom’s living
room, toying with FL Studio’s virtual
equalizers, knobs, and keyboard to craft
Schizotrope, the name of the album
I wrote to process a breakup,
an attempt to conjure you through
some combination of melody
and soundfont. When I listen
now, I hear us both a kind
of cacophonous ghost. Back
then, it was simple to slip on
cheap earbuds and recede into
my childhood bedroom, where we
did what I thought– when growing
up– was growing up. So shifted the
trajectory of my songs. And speaking
again of early sex, I sang off-key into my
coffee-stained Hewlett-Packard’s built-in
microphone, made a MIDI sound
marginally authentic to gift myself, in
the future, reverberations of my coping.

 

(originally published in Artvilla: Poetry Life & Times, Fall 2019)