More Heresies From Iyan Igma

Copyright 2008, 2009 by Iyan Igma 1st Edition, Condensed Published by Iyan Igma via CreateSpace.com in Scotts Valley, California ISBN: 144212816X EAN13: 9781442128163 This work is licensed under the Creative Commons AttributionNoncommercialNo Derivative Works 3.0 United States License. To view a copy of this license, visit http://creativecommons.org/licenses/byncnd/3.0/us/ or send a letter to Creative Commons, 171 Second Street, Suite 300, San Francisco, California, 94105, USA. In a nutshell, you are allowed to make copies and distribute it as long as it is not altered or done for commercial use, and as long as you give me credit. Consult the license for further details. Please Note that this is a work of fiction. Any similarities to actual events or people is coincidental, unless otherwise noted. Iyan Igma can be contacted through one of the following ways: ●http://stores.lulu.com/iyanigma ●www.iyanigma.com ●www.createspace.com

To my mother, who gave me life, nurture, spankings, peanut butter, plenty of air and dirt to play in, three sisters to beat me up, trust, a name worthy to live up to, a heritage of perseverance and overcoming, answers to a million questions, a love for the oldies, reassurance despite my awkwardness and special toes, love, and encouragement in my endeavours, especially writing. I'll never really be able to tell you thank you, especially now that you are allergic to chocolate. That lifetime supply I was planning on giving you is out of the picture now. Thank you for always wanting me to be happy and for encouraging me to be the best, no matter what.

A General Disclaimer to Prepare You for an Encounter with Insanity. This was written in a transitional period of my life. One part of the work found me going through a divorce. Another part found me coping with life and healing and evolving emotionally. Yet another section found me experiencing the rapture of falling into love again and discovering once more how magical it is to feel your heart race when someone dear is near. Some of the biggest influences on this book are A. E. Housman, whose poems I read and reread several times (hence the ABAB rhyme scheme found in many parts,) Life, Dreams, and my Extranjera. This was written from March 2008 to January 2009 in bursts and spurts. Concurrent with its writing, I was finalizing Repressed Memories, a 2nd Edition of The Dementia, and writing several children's books—in addition to working, attending college, dating, and programming, etc. Poems: 329 Fables & Short Stories: 15 Words: 90661

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Assorted Dementia Poetry..................................................................................................16 Fantacism......................................................................................................................17 Mem'ry No Longer Avails.....................................................................................................17 Tracking Your Influences......................................................................................................19 Pummelos..............................................................................................................................21 Going to Pick My Switch......................................................................................................23 'Neath a Melancholy Moon...................................................................................................24 The Lunatic...........................................................................................................................25 Lost Perseids.........................................................................................................................26 Lagrimas................................................................................................................................27 Regar Con Lagrimas..............................................................................................................28 Ao Meditar............................................................................................................................29 March 19, 2008.....................................................................................................................31 Temperate Emotions..............................................................................................................32 Starlet Blossom.....................................................................................................................33 Where the Dawn Perspires....................................................................................................34 Little Ants............................................................................................................................35 'Neath a Shroud of Gray.......................................................................................................36 Bluebells on a Hill.................................................................................................................37 The First Sweet Grass of the Season.....................................................................................38 Primordial Rites....................................................................................................................40 Sentimental Aquifer..............................................................................................................41 to nowhere.............................................................................................................................43 Wornout Bags of Care.........................................................................................................44 Catch Me Faithfully.............................................................................................................45 DippersFull in Slavery.........................................................................................................46 Freedom.................................................................................................................................47 Blue.......................................................................................................................................48 Tiny Hands............................................................................................................................49 Sand Art With My Son.........................................................................................................51 My Nephew on Mother's Day...............................................................................................53 Memories of You...................................................................................................................54 My Next Planet....................................................................................................................56 Nepotism........................................................................................................................57 Snowy Temples......................................................................................................................57 My Hair................................................................................................................................59 Life's Unbathed Simplicity...................................................................................................60 6

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Fit Gift..............................................................................................................................61 Mother's Voice......................................................................................................................63 Honor in Ages Past...............................................................................................................64 Too GodAwful Bad..............................................................................................................65 Reprimand Sarcastic Pride....................................................................................................66 Mindless Work......................................................................................................................67 Giroscopio..............................................................................................................................68 A.S.........................................................................................................................................69 De Facto Despot...................................................................................................................71 Sobre la Amistad...................................................................................................................72 Los Estandartes Tuyos..........................................................................................................73 Of Use...................................................................................................................................74 Another Week.......................................................................................................................75 I Defy Buddha......................................................................................................................76 Vingtsix...............................................................................................................................77 Rare Perfection Among Men.................................................................................................78 SWMLFTL..........................................................................................................................79 Egonym.................................................................................................................................80 A Flummoxed Compass.........................................................................................................81 Gran Fracaso.........................................................................................................................82 Lamaphite.............................................................................................................................83 Me Volviste Puercoespinos....................................................................................................84 Small Jaunts..........................................................................................................................85 strangers as strange as me.....................................................................................................86 I watched as you died............................................................................................................87 Realism..........................................................................................................................89 The First to Go......................................................................................................................89 Puesto del Sol del Paraíso.....................................................................................................90 Enmy.....................................................................................................................................91 This World of Mimes............................................................................................................92 Modestia...............................................................................................................................93 Codependent Happiness........................................................................................................94 Drenched, Hungry, Unemployed...........................................................................................95 Like Camping, But Colder.....................................................................................................96 To Mitigate the Rub..............................................................................................................97 You'll Be a Man....................................................................................................................99 Honor Graduate..................................................................................................................100 Life's JackintheBox.........................................................................................................101 Perseverance........................................................................................................................102 Intelligence's Curse..............................................................................................................103 Another One of Those Mornings.........................................................................................105 7

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Paltry Reflections................................................................................................................106 Altruism Died with Christ..................................................................................................107 In Secrecy............................................................................................................................108 Despotism....................................................................................................................109 Lhasa...................................................................................................................................109 There's a Conservative Outside My Window......................................................................110 TheoTyranny......................................................................................................................112 Loony Duped Simpletons....................................................................................................113 Dear John............................................................................................................................114 Progress, They Call It..........................................................................................................115 A.B.S...................................................................................................................................116 Idealism.......................................................................................................................118 Let Wasted Years Be..........................................................................................................118 The State Within.................................................................................................................119 Integrity..............................................................................................................................120 Layers of SelfMate Importance.........................................................................................121 SoulSightsee.......................................................................................................................123 Belief...................................................................................................................................124 That I AM...........................................................................................................................126 Life's Labours Ills...............................................................................................................127 Normalcy's Untrue..............................................................................................................128 Commonality.......................................................................................................................129 Deathbed Confession...........................................................................................................130 Salutary Anarchy................................................................................................................131 Meaningless Sex..................................................................................................................132 /* Love.c......................................................................................................................133 Optimism.....................................................................................................................135 Wintry Days In Hell...........................................................................................................135 Each Crazy Woman............................................................................................................136 The Amputee.......................................................................................................................137 Exus....................................................................................................................................138 While You May...................................................................................................................139 Going Off to Dream............................................................................................................140 Who You Are.......................................................................................................................141 Worth Your Weight in Chocolate.......................................................................................142 My Lover's API..................................................................................................................143 Weight Loss........................................................................................................................144 My Comfy Placenta.............................................................................................................145 On Demolishing Alarms......................................................................................................146 The Bairn's Vast Energy.....................................................................................................147 Hermits................................................................................................................................148 8

More Heresies from Iyan Igma ¡Aguas!................................................................................................................................149 Lunar Cycle Love................................................................................................................150 More Worthless Tin............................................................................................................151 Pollinated Cars....................................................................................................................152 Incest's Stigma....................................................................................................................153 Esquilo Na Vida Pasada.....................................................................................................154 Neelie Kroes........................................................................................................................155 Juvenile Lobotomy..............................................................................................................156 Like the Dickens.................................................................................................................157 If Her Dentures Weren't New............................................................................................158 A Horse...............................................................................................................................159 Aaron Is So Stupid..............................................................................................................160 To Quote Bobby...................................................................................................................161 The Rapist...........................................................................................................................162 Brute Hedonism..................................................................................................................163 Every Soothing Iniquity......................................................................................................164 Your Sweetest Taboo...........................................................................................................165 Flings Before.......................................................................................................................166 Romanticism................................................................................................................167 Garden Variety Guy............................................................................................................167 Burning Beauty Across the Sky..........................................................................................169 The Sweetest Salve..............................................................................................................170 El Zancudo y Tú.................................................................................................................172 Helenic.................................................................................................................................174 Paradise Riven....................................................................................................................175 Scorching Epiphanies..........................................................................................................176 Paedomisia..........................................................................................................................177 Materialism in Perspective..................................................................................................179 Love's Martyr......................................................................................................................180 Since Your Decision Was Resolute.....................................................................................181 Gorgon Tears.......................................................................................................................182 Poetic Justice.......................................................................................................................183 Make Canis Majoris Dim....................................................................................................184 Unfettered and Unbound...................................................................................................185 better to suicide...................................................................................................................186 Not My Nothingness..........................................................................................................187 Muito Obrigado...................................................................................................................189 Grieve Not the Harvests Past.............................................................................................190 Bathsheba............................................................................................................................191 By Your Pleasured Smile.....................................................................................................192 Wenugichasum....................................................................................................................193 9

More Heresies from Iyan Igma naked always.......................................................................................................................194 Feeble With Strong Rapport...............................................................................................195 El Vicio de Amor.................................................................................................................196 Just Ordinary Sers...............................................................................................................197 And For Dulcinea...............................................................................................................198 Blinks..................................................................................................................................199 Our Paths Tend to Diverge.................................................................................................200 To Coax Me from the Bush.................................................................................................201 When No One Can See........................................................................................................202 What Easy Lies..................................................................................................................203 Ficklety...............................................................................................................................204 A Meaningless Butterfly Atop............................................................................................205 Dead Joy.............................................................................................................................206 Self Mutilation...................................................................................................................207 The Lack Thereof.................................................................................................................208 Useless Reciprocation..........................................................................................................209 As Nebuchadnezzar............................................................................................................210 A Cardiologist.....................................................................................................................211 Of the Passion That Once Was Ours...................................................................................212 Having Whet Curiosity.......................................................................................................213 From Pearl to Powder.........................................................................................................214 One Precious Songbird.........................................................................................................215 Pity Other Men...................................................................................................................217 In Intimate Moments..........................................................................................................218 Never Told...........................................................................................................................220 As the Thornbirds........................................................................................................221 Obelisk at Babel..................................................................................................................222 Five and Twenty.................................................................................................................223 This Skeleton Who Wears My Clothes................................................................................225 Eviscerated Lobes...............................................................................................................226 Lo Merezco.........................................................................................................................227 Maldita Juventud...............................................................................................................228 Natural Causes....................................................................................................................229 Lake of Love's Brimstone....................................................................................................230 Dysphemism.................................................................................................................231 On Loves True Essence........................................................................................................231 This Rag..............................................................................................................................232 The Lady of Cofitachequi....................................................................................................234 The Relic of His Love..........................................................................................................236 Sailor Boy............................................................................................................................237 The Ring's Vow...................................................................................................................238 10

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Apple Scented Death...........................................................................................................239 Across the Thatch................................................................................................................241 A Metallic Girl....................................................................................................................242 Vibrant Life........................................................................................................................244 Yonder Hollows of Eden.....................................................................................................246 When I Loved You..............................................................................................................247 The One with Whom I Now Lay........................................................................................248 Their Anniversary................................................................................................................249 Pessimism.....................................................................................................................250 Ao Morrer............................................................................................................................250 Transient Gleam..................................................................................................................251 Omens with a Simple Touch................................................................................................252 On the Bed Where We Loved.............................................................................................253 Lonely Tree..........................................................................................................................255 A Miracle Too Soon Gone...................................................................................................258 I Walk These Lonely Hills..................................................................................................260 Sop of Saving Bread............................................................................................................262 At Yuletide..........................................................................................................................263 Merry Philia........................................................................................................................269 Licit to Live........................................................................................................................271 True Thanksgiving...............................................................................................................272 Lover's Leap........................................................................................................................274 Holocaustic Future.............................................................................................................276 The Last of the Free Roam Tigers.......................................................................................278 The Prodigal Sin..................................................................................................................280 Vigilante Justice..................................................................................................................282 Lack of Perception..............................................................................................................283 Alimentar Os Tuburőes........................................................................................................284 Safely Sepultado..................................................................................................................285 The Coopersmith..................................................................................................................286 To Look Past Your Psychopathy.........................................................................................287 Midnight Reprieve..............................................................................................................288 Guilt....................................................................................................................................289 Distant Fields of Heather...................................................................................................292 Still Space Left for Me........................................................................................................295 Enlisted Suicide...................................................................................................................296 beautiful demise..................................................................................................................297 Hands That Bless and Do No Harm...................................................................................298 Croatoan..............................................................................................................................300 Mongol Steppes...................................................................................................................303 Her Voice.............................................................................................................................311 11

More Heresies from Iyan Igma La Extranjera....................................................................................328 Fresh Obsidian.............................................................................................................329 The Heart is Clairvoyant.............................................................................................330 Subtle Missteps...........................................................................................................331 Intricate Porcelain.......................................................................................................332 Em Sonhos...................................................................................................................333 My Favorite Author....................................................................................................334 Ostra............................................................................................................................335 Sensual Bites...............................................................................................................336 On Chopsticks..............................................................................................................337 Nothing is so Aesthetic................................................................................................338 With New Luster........................................................................................................339 Risonanza....................................................................................................................340 Sunset Frames.............................................................................................................341 Eliciting Electricity.....................................................................................................342 Rechristened.................................................................................................................343 Fields of Spring...........................................................................................................345 Obeisance.....................................................................................................................346 Pela Luna....................................................................................................................348 Supernoval Light.........................................................................................................349 Corozonal Jardin.........................................................................................................350 False Decency..............................................................................................................351 The Winter Beguiled....................................................................................................353 Soy Tu Girasol.............................................................................................................354 Sweet Improbabilities..................................................................................................355 Love's Germination......................................................................................................356 Perennials....................................................................................................................358 Probably Paraphilia.....................................................................................................359 From Silence and In Between.....................................................................................360 Further.........................................................................................................................361 Anjo.............................................................................................................................363 Living Feicui...............................................................................................................365 Pièce de Résistance......................................................................................................366 Mei Beautiful..............................................................................................................367 Learning Endless Wonders.........................................................................................368 i....................................................................................................................................369 The Fireflies.................................................................................................................370 12

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Cada Noche..................................................................................................................371 Alien to Me..................................................................................................................372 Pleasing Cascades........................................................................................................373 Movement is Relative..................................................................................................374 Femme Fatal Attraction.............................................................................................375 One Sublime Creation..................................................................................................376 The Birthday of an Angel............................................................................................377 Uma Coisa Mais..........................................................................................................379 Slumbering St. Elmo's Fire..........................................................................................380 See Your Sunlight Shine..............................................................................................381 Crafted Perfectly.........................................................................................................382 Igneous Love...............................................................................................................383 Asexual Embrace.........................................................................................................384 Doce Darme Por Vencido............................................................................................385 Your Kiln.....................................................................................................................386 V.S.O...........................................................................................................................387 Faded Epitaphs...........................................................................................................388 Highest Expression of Love........................................................................................389 Jinghism.......................................................................................................................390 Lo Que Sea...................................................................................................................392 Like Each Day Was a Gift.........................................................................................393 Lo Haré........................................................................................................................394 Sunshine in a Season of Discontent............................................................................396 The Missing Link........................................................................................................397 Unconventional, But Not Bizarre..............................................................................398 This Way.....................................................................................................................399 Without a Purpose......................................................................................................401 Mais Do Meu Ser........................................................................................................402 I Beseech Thee.............................................................................................................403 No Hope to Shine........................................................................................................404 Per Buddhist Maxims..................................................................................................405 Tradition's stronger than logic.....................................................................................407 Ne'er Separated............................................................................................................408 Heart in Return...........................................................................................................409 The Ambrosia of Blissful Moments.............................................................................410 Consecrated in Devotion.............................................................................................412 Like Atlas....................................................................................................................414 Through Matted Tresses..............................................................................................416 13

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Secretly Awaited.........................................................................................................417 Visage of Serenity........................................................................................................418 Meditation in an Embrace..........................................................................................419 Ever So Slightly...........................................................................................................420 Over and Anew............................................................................................................421 My Sun..............................................................................................422 A Happy Home............................................................................................................423 Lost..............................................................................................................................424 My Tears Melt.............................................................................................................425 I Blame Myself............................................................................................................426 Chin Up.......................................................................................................................427 School...........................................................................................................................428 I Stayed with Momma................................................................................................429 How Could I Not Love You?......................................................................................430 Which One...................................................................................................................431 He's Just Not Dad.......................................................................................................432 All Confused................................................................................................................433 Someone Else...............................................................................................................434 Forgiven.......................................................................................................................435 A New Family.............................................................................................................436 Stay..............................................................................................................................437 A Walk........................................................................................................................438 My Sun........................................................................................................................439 All Right......................................................................................................................440 Short Stories, Fables, and Their Ilk...................................................441 The Lamb and the Ewe...............................................................................................442 Field Mouse.................................................................................................................443 Cottontail....................................................................................................................444 The Naked Mole Rat and the Bat...............................................................................445 The Kangaroo and the Horse.......................................................................................446 Spider and Wasp.........................................................................................................448 Meerkat and Magpie...................................................................................................450 The Pouch....................................................................................................................452 Platypus.......................................................................................................................454 The Pachyderm Who Forgave.....................................................................................457 The Flamingo...............................................................................................................459 Am I Dreaming?..........................................................................................................460 14

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Rustic Sense.................................................................................................................462 The First Murder.........................................................................................................469 Absolution...................................................................................................................477 Author's Notes...................................................................................486 Translations.................................................................................................................506 Lo Merezco (I Deserve It)...................................................................................................506 Who You Are (Quien Eres)..................................................................................................507 About the Author........................................................................................................508 15

Poetry

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Fantacism Mem'ry No Longer Avails I travel alone winding trails That I'm certain I've trod before, But mem'ry no longer avails1. The past's paths are myths, legends, lore, 5 And stories I would fain2 believe Were I not wary3 of the snare; For confusion and fact do cleave4 Like fresh lovers watched unaware. Now, I know not what I should trust, 10 Since man's mortal, and love is frail5. But is it wrong to love a lie When real history'd be a hell? I can see how I would have crossed Through the leaves and over the ridge 15 To see the imagined sights lost By entering the covered bridge6. I see myself wrapped up in bliss, Her hair and dress flowing, twirling, And 'neath the ridge we wait and kiss, 20 Hidden to the world that's whirling. We separate. I'll come again To see her, my heart's decided. Why lose her to another man? In deception, I'll be prided. 1 avails: works; functions 2 fain: gladly 3 wary: cautious 4 cleave: stick to one another; intertwine themselves 5 frail: weak; fragile; easily broken 6 crossed. . . bridge: He could wander from the path to see what's over the ridge, or stay on it and cross a covered bridge 17

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 25 Look how I am covering up The evidence of my coming. Surely that7 must be why I feel So compelled8 to break out running, Certain as a groundhog's senses 30 That spring is shortly due to be. I run to her, but find fences. Sorrow streams alluvially9. Once more to the path I return, Quite uncertain what is real. 35 Why can fantasy make me burn, Confounding the ways that I feel? Why can't life be hon'rable as Fleeting dreams prematurely dead? It fails, despite the time it has10, 40 So I'll prefer to dream instead. I can make up my destinies, No matter what I've been slated; When reality mutinies11, I can muse, like it's been fated. 45 For only safe within my dreams Can I ever be satisfied, For what is man? Truly, it seems, Misery till the day he's died. 7 that: the memory of crossing the ridge, meeting the girl, and covering his tracks 8 compelled: urged 9 alluvially: referring to the alluvial plane or fan; a watershed 10 It fails. . . has: we spend so much time in a disappointing reality 11 Mutinies: rebels 18

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Tracking Your Influences I can see where your paw prints lay As lazy as sleeping cattle; You left them in the sand one day After the rain's recent battle. 5 By such deluges12 freshly strewn, The sand was begging to be trod; Its past impressions picayune13 And temp'rary will have no laud14. You're all I see in silica15, 10 Joining a collection of tracks In this woodland basilica16 That droppings as well scarcely lacks. Amid desperate survival, I can just make out the faint signs, 15 Left long ere17 the land grew nival18, Of passers through my copse 19of pines. By some means they have persevered The erosive forces of time, Perchance 'cause their impact endeared 20 Them, or their acts were much maligned20. Regardless, they're but faint mem'ries, Unlike the lunar footprints found That will last through eternities, 12 deluges: floods 13 picayune: tiny; insignificant 14 laud: glory; praise 15 silica: the principal ingredient in sand 16 basilica: a grand place of worship 17 ere: before 18 nival: snowy 19 copse: group of trees; forest 20 maligned: wicked; abusive 19

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Long after I cease to be 'round. 20

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pummelos Pummelos21, with their citric smell, Make me live in memories past When I was still a little child With no hopes innocence would last, 5 Nor a hope Christmas would bring The coveted22 toys of all the rest. A pummelo was my present then, And I considered myself blest. My family gathered around me and 10 The welladorned, emblazoned23 tree, Whose twinkling lights are like the souls Of those passing in and out of humanity. I was hardened by poverty, death, Friendlessness, and low selfesteem, 15 So any gifts beyond the pummelo Would be a suspicious dream. The surreal24 chanced as, awkwardly, I accepted some stranger's gift Out of the box on the doorstep 20 Left in hopes our spirits to lift. The whatnots animated25 us, According to our childish nature, But proved a bit unsettling to My pride strong and mature. 25 How dare they think us poor? They needn't think; it was the truth. How is it I ruined their efforts 21 Pummelos: citrus fruits from Southeast Asia that are slightly bigger than grapefruit 22 Coveted: lusted after; much desired 23 Emblazoned: garishly decorated 24 Surreal: impossible and dreamlike; (referring here to receiving more gifts) 25 Animated: excited 21

More Heresies from Iyan Igma With feelings wild and uncouth26? How is it the cherished present 30 Was one I'd resigned27 myself to, While such trinkets as I'd wanted Became meaningless anew28? I sat and slowly ate my pummelo, And its tartness has stayed with me 35 And caused me to resent29 gifts given For sympathy of my poverty. The years have died like many men, But, unlike men, will not come back, But remind me when I had naught 30 40 There was nothing that I did lack. 26 Uncouth: ungrateful; immoral; contrary to what's proper 27 Resigned: sorrowfully accepted 28 Anew: again 29 Resent: despise; hate 30 Naught: nothing 22

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Going to Pick My Switch I went to the sassafras tree31; With every step my feet were lead, Knowing, should I not return soon, There would be even more to dread. 5 With tears streaming down my face Like a mountain thawing in Spring, My moistened eyes tried to decide Which vessel of pain I'd bring Back for a welldeserved switching, 10 Though this32 seemed punishment plenty. Why make a child pick their own doom? I thought as a cognoscenti33 Of switches, which one shall I pick ? A skinny, limber limb that stings? 15 But if it breaks, I shall return To pick and face more swats and swings. I don't want to get one too wide, But which is a suitable size? The one I picked seemed far too big; 20 I tried not to think of the cries That I would yelp, unless I could Find the strength to bite back the pain. But if I masked how much it hurt, I might have to pick one again, 25 Since it was not enough to teach Me the ills of sin the hard way. Maybe they thought picking switches Was the worst torture anyway. 31 Sassafras tree: a North American tree whose roots were once used to make root beer 32 This: the mere picking of the switch 33 Cognoscenti: expert; connoisseur 23

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 'Neath a Melancholy Moon I never want to see the moon As depressed as I am tonight, For it would but add to my gloom To be bathed in a blue moon's light. 5 'Tis better that it hides its face, Since I could never bear to see The only friend who can solace34 Feeling lost and melancholy35. For it would remind me of the tears 10 That lunar rays have only known And the confessions of my fears I've given to the moon alone. Its light to others may be pale, But it enlightens me. It's warm. 15 It's the only friend, as well, Who's never done me any harm. 34 Solace: to comfort 35 Melancholy: sad 24

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Lunatic The moon is calling out to me To venture out into the night, Leaving the comforts of my home To dance beneath its surreal36 light. 5 The same force that crazes the tide Pulls me out of my chair to see The reason the night is glowing And my emotions haunt eerily37. I can see why brujas38 dance naked 10 To tan themselves in arcane39 rays And soak in the tumultuous power, Since the moon's melody plays Immutably40 within my breast, And I'm about to lose control. 15 My emotions are billowing, And anxiety pounds my soul. Surely there'd be no one to see, Save spirits no longer entombed By flesh as wild and brash as mine 20 That by the moon's strong tug is doomed. Why can't I mind the things I say, Why is my mood so sombre41 now? The moon tells me I'll stay this way Until I dance my feelings out. 36 Surreal: otherworldly; unnatural 37 Eerily: spookily; bizarrely 38 Brujas: witches 39 Arcane: pertaining to dark magic; witchy 40 Immutably: constantly; also a pun on mute—meaning it can't be silenced 41 Sombre: dark; melancholy 25

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lost Perseids Perseids42, you've missed me again, One more August you've sought my face. Disappointment distraught you, so You painted anguish across space. 5 As for me, I arose despaired That I'd slept through our rendezvous43. But what are meteors compared To tangible44 yet hitherto Elusive dreams my heart sought out, 10 Rendering past years meaningless Since I've nothing to show for them Besides fret fraught45 with loneliness? Still, the Perseids eluding me Are like the passing streaks of hope 15 That with momentary brilliance Hie46 into oblivion's scope. 42 Perseids: one of the most common meteor showers known to earth 43 Rendezvous: meeting 44 Tangible: touchable 45 Fraught: loaded with; full of 46 Hie: go 26

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lagrimas Sometimes I close the curtains drawn47 To shade my irritated eyes From twilight, noonday sun, and dawn, And the joy that the light belies48. 5 With my curtains and shutters closed, I wash the windows of my soul; I'd washed them not, were I exposed, Lest hypocrites come to console49. Indeed, no one should see just how 10 Vulnerable I am washing Them in the darkness and shadow With my salty buckets sloshing. Thus I defy optimism— The light that would have me believe 15 That to not preach idealism Would be quite absurd and naïve, That should I block out its bright light E'en temporarily, 'twould be Useless. It misconstrues50 my plight51 20 Since its very brilliance shows me The specks and smudges and smears that Caused me to wash in the first place. It's time to draw the curtains back, Since manhood can now show its face. 47 Drawn: previously opened 48 Belies: deceptively announces 49 Console: comfort 50 Misconstrues: misrepresents 51 Plight: unpleasant situation; dilemma 27

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Regar Con Lagrimas I've found a purpose for my tears, Since they have found that I have none. They can bring drooping flowers cheers, As leaves transpire52 beneath the sun. 5 I could water the soft blossoms Since there's moisture enough to spare Where my soul drowns in my bosom Without air or the faintest prayer. The tears are flowing warm and free, 10 And my only fear is I'll kill Them53 because they're54 so salty And a deluge55 on them56 would spill. 52 Transpire: leaves lose water (sweat) through small openings (stoma) on the bottom of the leaves 53 Them: the flowers 54 They're: the tears 55 Deluge: flood 56 Them: the blossoms 28

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ao Meditar I lie still and levitating57 In a spring field serene58 and mild. The gentle breeze is quite sedating; My head rests on a tuft of cloud. 5 Tall grasses, wheat, and rye stretch up; They've tickled my fancy for hours. A spattering of buttercups, Purple pieces of wildflowers, Bedraggled dandelion whelps59, 10 And blossomed blackberry brambles Provide the reverence60 that helps My mind focus as it ambles.61 No part of my body touches Another—no pressure or pain. 15 The warm sun's eager paintbrushes Envision my face. A refrain Of boisterous birds is muted Like butterfly wings flying by And the white tails62, who are suited 20 To let meditating men lie63. There is no sound that I can hear, Nor the witnessing goldenrods64 That line the trees on all sides clear To the horizon and the gods. 57 levitating: floating 58 serene: peaceful 59 whelps: children 60 reverence: respectful awe marked by silence 61 ambles: wanders about 62 white tails: white tail deer 63 To let. . . lie: a play on the adage, “let sleeping dogs lie.” 64 Nor. . . goldenrods: the onlooking goldenrods don't hear anything, either. 29

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 25 I've pushed allergens65 far from thought So that they cannot afflict me. I'm cool and tranquil, though I've fought, As the stream tarrying to see What's not seen in a century, 30 A wonder worthy of old Greece, Such a peculiar oddity— Me, finally resting in peace. 65 allergens: representing the ills of life 30

More Heresies from Iyan Igma March 19, 2008 Azaleas in purples and pinks And strange reds, grass and clover shag, Lil' white and purple forbs66, me thinks, Are enjoying their time to brag. 5 Dead chlorophyll leaves are bleeding In the green yard haphazardly; The fat squirrels themselves are treating, Since still now occasionally Stray pecans continue falling 10 When the wind roars; they eat haply In between limbs that had nothing Better to do than fall gaily67, 'Sif they were in love with any Passing wind. To me 'tis beauty, 15 And the dogwood blossoms agree. It's68 undisturbed, as it should be. 66 forbs: wildflowers 67 Gaily: happily; carefree 68 It's: nature is 31

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Temperate Emotions There's blithe69 relief now in the air, For the sorrow of the drought's gone. It's been so long since the snare Drum of rain and the woodwinds blown 5 And the melodic tuba of Thunder have been heard in these parts. Aye70, spring's enjoyed not just for love, Which gladdens and deceives the hearts Of many a spry lad and lass 10 And creatures stung by love's potions, But moreso for the storms that pass— The weather guides our emotions. 69 blithe: happy 70 Aye: yes 32

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Starlet Blossom Why weep ye? This flower was made So that it could be picked and die; The starlet71 blossom's not afraid. The same shall pass to you and I. 5 Death meets even its brethren buds By bugs, pests, or inclement climes72, Like those who've cast their petal duds Early, in season, or betimes73— Just like those that lay on the ground, 10 A pile of mush and rotten things, And those withered74 where stems abound. Don't you know we're all just playthings? 71 starlet: a rising star, used as a description of up and coming actresses 72 inclement climes: bad weather 73 betimes: soon 74 withered: dried up; shriveled up 33

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Where the Dawn Perspires Each night the spiders craft their webs Slinging silk through the starlit skies. Gossamer75 glistens when night ebbs76, And the world wakes to pursue lies. 5 The arachnids' fishing nets span From tree limb to bush leaf through air. As blindly as only men can, I walk wrecking what's wrought77 with care. You'd think I'd learn every morning 10 To watch for their sticky trip wires That glimmer when light's adorning Rays shine on where the dawn perspires. You'd think they'd learn to build elsewhere, Since I'll pass through the path each day. 15 If they built higher than my hair, We would peaceably share the way78. They'll build in vain till they die; Surely their spoils must justify What's gone in the blink of an eye. 20 We're alike, this spider and I. Its web's a monument to me, A frail thing which soon passes on, Hoping to serve out its purpose Before an instant finds it gone. 75 Gossamer: silken strands 76 When the night ebbs: fades away into day 77 Wrought: crafted; created 78 Way: path 34

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Little Ants Little ants, why hustle so? What urgency do you feel? Do panic and stress rule you, Or do you find life's ideal? 5 What irrationality Do you share with humankind? Or are you free and focused, Keeping simple truths in mind? Is instinct idealistic 10 And pure practicality Uncomplicated by the Mistruths of humanity? 35

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 'Neath a Shroud of Gray With stealth the orange sight is flitting Like a drunken angel weary In short bursts higher on the wind Gusting 'neath heav'ns painted eerie, 5 Was its sign their79 grim demeanor80, For they brood overcast and grave81? Or is it simply wary82 of The chilly way the skies behave? Would83 I could accompany you 10 To where you flee with good reason! Winter's dirges84 sound while flees the Last butterfly of the season. 79 Their: the clouds' 80 Demeanor: behavior 81 Grave: serious 82 Wary: cautious 83 Would: I wish that 84 Dirges: sad songs 36

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Bluebells on a Hill A bunch of bluebells on a hill Overlooks me where I walk Listening to the birds and wind As they chirp, tweet, squawk, and talk. 5 I fear that they85 once were daisies, But I have made them depressed. They'd curdle, were they buttercups; Roses would bleed like my chest. But no matter what breed they were, 10 They've taken part of my pain86. I once thought flowers were petty87, But 'tis I, not them, who's vain88. 85 They: the bluebells 86 Taken...pain: cheered me up 87 Petty: unimportant; trifling really 88 Vain: useless 37

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The First Sweet Grass of the Season It calls to me with tempting words, Begging my teeth to masticate89 And feel the fibers fill my mouth As its juice makes me salivate. 5 And all it does to bid me this Is sunburn in a field of spring Invoking a spell of mem'ry Long dusty of once winnowing The chaff90 from this abundant weed 10 That I was forbidden to chew. I hesitate somehow restrained, Knowing what one my age should do. Perhaps it's just to prove a point, But I cross to the field's red patch, 15 Pluck a stalk, clean it, and try not To think of germs or what might hatch. I want this moment raw and wild, Like the millions had as a boy. The first sweet grass of the season 20 Nonetheless fails to give me joy. I doubt it's because its taste's changed, Though it's nothing like in childhood. For worry hinders91 enjoying The simple pleasures a child would. 25 Though it's a tart92 and pulpy mess, I chew more as a reminder Of the times when I truly lived. 89 Masticate: although it sounds like a bad word, it means “chew” 90 Winnowing the chaff: removing the grains from the stalk 91 Hinders: interferes with; blocks 92 Tart: sour; bitter 38

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The taste's sour; nostalgia's93 kinder. 93 Nostalgia: the bittersweet memories of happier times we cannot reclaim 39

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Primordial Rites The torrents94 have left their mark here, As mud puddles and ditches show. The oils slip by past battered grass; Debris's amazed how fast it flows. 5 I walk along admiring floods Like others seek out Christmas lights, Enthralled95 to see creeks overflow In nature's primordial rites96. When not splashing, I walk on curbs 10 As if I could relive childhood By trying not to fall off now, Walking whithersoe'er I would. This past spring the pollen's gold dust Dyed the rushing flood waters green, 15 Restoring natural colours Back to afflicted living things. But now 'tis fall and the brown grass Is littered with wet clumps of snow Where cotton's escaped from the trucks, 20 Littering the roadsides below. 94 Torrents: heavy rains 95 Enthralled: fascinated 96 Natures. . . rites: one of the earliest rites, or ceremonies, of nature was to wash itself clean 40

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sentimental Aquifer I'm pouring out my heart and soul Like pungent97, curdled buttermilk, Watching clabber98 splatter splutter, Trying oblivion to bilk99, 5 Watching the final drops spill out Like worms' newly created silk100, As I attain catharsis 101 And its sentimental ilk102. As transient103 wonders disappear 10 Like stealthy, paranoid does104 Through an overgrown forest, I wonder where it all goes? Is there some kind of aquifer105 That our emotions feed into? 15 Do they merely evaporate? Are they teleported106 to you By the wormhole107 of feeling That can connect any two Beings with basis for empathy, 20 Since their lives are déjà vu108? 97 Pungent: foulsmelling (not to be confused with fowlsmelling) 98 Clabber: the chunks in sour milk 99 Bilk: frustrate; beat 100 Worm. . . silk: silk is created from the cocoons of the Bombyx mori moth. 101 Catharsis: an emotional release 102 Ilk: kith and kin; relatives 103 Transient: passing; fleeting; momentary 104 Does: female deer 105 Aquifer: subterranean river 106 Teleported: transported instantaneously through the spacetime continuum 107 Wormhole: a shortcut through two places in the spacetime continuum; a really narrow cave 108 déjà vu: the feeling of having already experienced something that you're doing for the first time 41

More Heresies from Iyan Igma What's the point of creating majesty That's perished before it's spoken? What's the point in having a soul When in life it's only broken? 42

More Heresies from Iyan Igma to nowhere the steps lead off to nowhere like a precipice to paradise hidden because we cannot see with our pathetic mortal eyes 5 that stepping off to nothingness we're buoyed by paths set long before to take us to our potential if life's illusions we ignore 43

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Wornout Bags of Care I'm leaving my bags right here and now; I'll fly away with them behind. And where I go I'll be nude Without the emotional clothes of the mind. 5 The toiletries I was using Were chemicals toxic to my wellbeing, And the glasses doffed109 and packed away Had prescriptions for not seeing. As I take off lighter than air 10 Without wornout bags of care, The world's been renewed in beauty, And I am ready for love's affairs. My soul's been healed, and I'll fret110 not, For doing so stymies111 my growth. 15 I'll cherish new love and lasting peace. How could I live without them both? 109 Doffed: taken off 110 Fret: worry 111 Stymies: hinders; stops; impedes 44

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Catch Me Faithfully I am learning now how to fall, No longer paralyzed by fear, Which has sustained me. After all, I had thought the ground was so drear112. 5 So I kept flapping wearily For so long, not realizing That to fall was just to be free, Since I'd ne'er make the horizon. Why set out on a senseless dream, 10 Chasing what you can never catch? The horizon moves, water gleams, And happiness will never hatch Should I never incubate113 it. To fly forever's suicide. 15 Labors should not be infinite114, Despite our lofty goals and pride. And so I fall with eyes wide closed, Free at last of cumbersome115 stress; I heal at rest, and nothing goads116— 20 Relaxing's my greatest success. The stress had kept me in the air, Since it had never dawned on me That the whole time something was there Waiting to catch me faithfully. 112 Drear: loathsome and depressing and horrible 113 Incubate: keep warm, as a bird does sitting on its eggs 114 Infinite: without an end 115 Cumbersome: bothersome 116 Goads: nags; annoys 45

More Heresies from Iyan Igma DippersFull in Slavery My wrists and ankles are still sore From the shackles117 that ate my flesh, But I'm not tortured anymore, I'm not caged in wire and mesh. 5 I've run so far to chase this dream, And should I die wearily here, Emancipated118 like this stream, The last moments would be so dear, Healing all tragedies since birth, 10 All bludgeonings119 and knavery120. A drop of water free's worth All the dippers full in slav'ry. 117 Shackles: metal bands used to restrain hands and/or feet 118 Emancipated: freed from slavery 119 Bludgeonings: severe beatings 120 Knavery: the villainous acts that have been done to this person 46

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Freedom A slight breeze on a warm spring day Seeing several paths and going any way Happiness and smiles across your face To go and do most any place 47

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Blue “Mommy dearest, tell me true, Why are the sky and ocean blue? ” “They reflect blue light, For they're glad at the sight 5 Of smiling little you121.” 121 Reflect...you: It seemed obvious to me when I read it, but others didn't quite understand what I meant. The skies cannot be sad when they see you, so they can't absorb blue light, which is why they are blue. 48

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Tiny Hands The oaks and pines are all around. There's humus carpeting the ground. An autumn breeze blows on the dusk Where serenity has been found. 5 The last calls of departing birds Bid adieu to the cricket strings. A tiny one is flying now Without using feathery wings. She burbles122, tiny hand in mine, 10 Warm and full of innocent life. Her other hand is held fast in The petite grasp of my sweet wife. She is a marvel like a seed, So small, yet what will her impact be? 15 She's the glue our marriage did need. She loves unconditionally. She looks up like stargazers do Awed to see heaven watching them. She tells me, "Daddy, I love you," 20 And my spirit can't help but grin. She's caught up in a whirlwind hug, And she giggles while I squeeze. My eyes bid her while she's held snug, "Stay this precious forever, please." 25 Her pure soul senses what I seek; Her eternity understands. She reassures me as my cheek Is caressed by angelic hands. Such tiny hands, and yet they bless, 30 Wielding a power more profound Than weapons forged in man's darkness, 122 Burbles: makes laughing, joyous noises 49

More Heresies from Iyan Igma For in them all my hope is found. 50

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sand Art With My Son The sand dunes in the sunset hues Are discolored and interspersed123 By wild oat grasses and bushes Who've come to quench a salty thirst 5 And sun tan in the ocean breeze, Called by the same force as I To gaze off a green forever Where the Sargasso124 meets the sky. And in the sliver of horizon, 10 Which proves to man the earth is round, Is seen the truth man won't accept: It's only now that life is found. So what am I doing right now To make use of my only one125? 15 I'm standing on these sand dunes Creating unique sand art with my son.126 The flows are marking silica127 Where I teach him to write his name. He's too young to know better, 20 And I am dispossessed of shame. The sea gulls stare at our shadows Stretching out like tentacles behind. The crabs welcome the distraction128, And Mother Nature does not mind. 25 And when he's old and full of years 123 Interspersed: scattered with 124 Sargasso: the Sargasso Sea is a relatively calm body of water in the middle of the North Atlantic Ocean. The Gulf Current, et al, encircle it. It is known as a place of St. Elmo's fire and merpeople. 125 Only one: only moment, since this is the only second that counts 126 Son: for full disclosure, I do not have a son, as of this writing 127 Silica: the principal component of sand 128 Distraction: causing the seagulls to leave temporarily so that the crabs might find refuge, a hiding place. 51

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And his beard's gray, and I am gone, He'll think of making sand art here And will fill young and not alone. 52

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Nephew on Mother's Day I have never had a nephew129, Though I seemed an uncle to you. But kids are unconditional130, And there's no hint of guile131 in you. 5 Why else would I be at dinner, Unless I were your family? Since I am quite a bit older, I'm not your cousin, no sirree. You played with me as if you had 10 Known me for both of your two years; Maybe you recognized me from Ere132 this life of diapers and tears. But maybe what you recognized Most was my ancient longing to 15 Have children, and knew I would feel Better if I would play with you. 129 Never. . . nephew: at the time of its writing in May 2008. However in July my first nephew was born. 130 Kids. . . unconditional: children have an unconditional love, able to love and accept anyone, no matter what the person's past. They have no expectations (at first) except to receive love in turn. 131 Guile: deception 132 Ere: before 53

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Memories of You Hello again, another year's gone, But my love for you has remained true. Though time, winds, and rain can etch out stone, They can't fade my memories of you. 5 The adventures we shared when we were young, The follies133 of our innocent days, All of the meaningless words we once sung, Maturing together our own ways, The problems that loomed above like clouds 10 Which we faced calling them funny shapes, Our friendship's warmth found amidst cold crowds, The relief of our narrow escapes134, Departure's cruel sting burning our eyes With all the salt from the ocean's deep 15 As we were dispersed like a dream flies Quickly from the mind wakened from sleep, And all of the sacred times we've known Have given my life deeper meaning. As years vanish more friends come along, 20 But on your shoulders I'm still leaning. Though there may one day be a sad price Paid in tears should one day our paths part, You've taught me it's worth the sacrifice, For friendship never dies in the heart. 25 I may be far away from home now, But you have remained a part of me. My unfailing good luck charm, my Tao135, Is the worth of your friendship to me. 133 Follies: mistakes 134 Narrow escapes: the times we just barely managed to get out of a lot of trouble 135 Tao: ultimate meaning of the universe and existence 54

More Heresies from Iyan Igma In the thoughts that strengthen me each day, 30 Gladdening my heart when I despair, Your friendship will remain young always Since to time and space love's unaware. How I hope we can have the chance to Share more memories in coming weeks. 35 But if this wish is not to come true, Then know what my heart sincerely seeks: May you be blessed the entire year through, Prospered, protected, and full of cheer. Know that I dearly love and miss you. 40 Merry Christmas and Happy New Year. 55

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Next Planet I've learned from my tragic mistakes, As any good Deity136 should, I'll sleep well, not testing patience; I'm surprised how much it137 withstood. 5 As I create my next planet, Beauty will flourish all around, And nature will be undisturbed, The animals all sane and sound. No pollution will mar the sky, 10 So the stars can shine clearly through; No poisons or radiation Shall harm the beasts and soil anew. No species will become extinct, Nor shall landfills occlude138 the view. 15 Trash won't make enormous islands; All will worship me with hearts true. I created one world for man Who was too ungrateful to care. So, this one won't be corrupted, 20 Since man won't be found anywhere. 136 Deity: God 137 It: His Patience 138 Occlude: block; mar 56

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Nepotism Snowy Temples My hair is changing colors now In the early onset of fall. See a few leaves on yonder bough139 Don't have any pigment140 at all. 5 They're scattered here or there, so small That a naked eye never perceives Without a close study withal That autumn's kiss has graced the leaves. But just you wait, in no time flat 10 The discoloration will grow. It will bring such certainty that Everyone will be bound to know. But a few strands don't bother me With their teasing of winter's snow; 15 I could use a few more, truly, To garner141 more respect, you know. Everyone disdains142 my age, Though I seldom disdain their brain; They think I am a carte blanche143 page 20 Unmarked by fear, hurt, love, and pain. Indeed, I could use a few more To no longer be thought a boy; Snowy temples144 and salt galore 139 Bough: limb 140 Pigment: color 141 garner: gain; earn 142 disdains: looks down on 143 carte blanche: completely clean and empty 144 snowy temples: white hair around my temples 57

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Would be my wisdom's grand decoy. 58

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Hair Brown grass windswept to the side Wherein the saving heat can hide Scarcely hiding the sunbaked earth. I've been cutting it since my birth. 59

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Life's Unbathed Simplicity I grew up in other eras That had ended centuries past, In the days of jealous Heras And castles that were stoned, not glassed145. 5 All the honor I've ever had Came from King Arthur and his knights. Without my books, the world was bad— It's advertised by neon lights. Contemporary music aged 10 For a decade before I heard it146; And most of the new books I read Weren't so eloquently147 worded. I grew up chasing Robin Hood That I could be a Merry Man148. 15 I knew why Ivanhoe149 would brood. Oh, how I loved Maid Marian150! And life's unbathed simplicity151 Known and loved from such older times Has made me useless completely, 20 In this world full of many crimes. 145 castles. . . glassed: castles often did not have window panes 146 Contemporary. . . it: I started exploring bands like Nirvana and the Smashing Pumpkins nearly ten years after the rest of my generation. 147 eloquently: using very pretty language 148 Merry Man: Robin Hood's band were the Merry Men. 149 Ivanhoe: a knight of AngloSaxon heritage who was disowned by his father 150 Maid Marian: Robin Hood's gal 151 Life's unbathed simplicity: in those ages, they didn't see much need for bathing and such luxuries as we now embrace 60

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Fit Gift What's fit for the birthday of the one Who gave her own life to give me mine; Who labored that I might see the world And enjoy the kiss of the sunshine; 5 Who was my very first teacher, Teaching me love through tender care, By feeding me and changing diapers, Putting me to sleep rubbing my hair; Who strained her back to pick me up; 10 Who tickled my feet and rib cage; Who gave me butterfly kisses; Who wrote on my mind's blank page The impressions of ethics and morals And the lessons none else could teach; 15 Who fostered my language and learning, And taught me my goals were in reach; Who cared for me more than herself, And encouraged me to be the best; Who was my emotional pillar; 20 Whose genes gave me strength and zest; Who loved me when unlovable, And was my friend continuously; Whose greatest possible happiness Was to find me fully happy; 25 Who tended me when I was sick And healed my wounds with her kiss; Who worked hard to provide shelter, Clothing, food, and the whole list Of basic needs; Who took the time 30 To scare monsters and demons away; Who answered my questions faithfully And taught me how to pray; 61

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Who'll never give up on me, Despite my worst attitude? 35 Is there a gift that I can give To express a lifetime of gratitude? Shall I buy her a WalMart gift card? Will a trinket or bauble152 suffice? How about cheap perfume located 40 Near thoughtless gift sets of Old Spice? Maybe she'd like some plastic flowers Or a cheap cubic zirconia ring? Even if I spent a million dollars, I'd miss the most important thing: 45 She doesn't care what gifts I buy, Though the thought will make her smile, Instead she only wants to know My life is heading somewhere worthwhile. She wants to know that I'm progressing, 50 Building selfconfidence and esteem, For the greatest gift to give a mother Is knowing her child's reached his dream. 152 Bauble: a generally worthless souvenir or knickknack 62

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mother's Voice What will I do when I desire To hear Mom's voice but she's not here, Having left me truly alone In this uncompassionate sphere, 5 When no longer shall her kisses Alleviate153 my afflictions, Nor her words encourage me through Reality's superstitions? I shall curse preoccupations, 10 Though I shall receive more disdain For letting myself forget her! How disloyal has been my brain! To think I didn't have the time Due to work and senseless choices. 15 Her gentle tones lost, heard no more Spite a plethora154 of voices. 153 Alleviate: improve; make better 154 Plethora: a myriad; a lot of; a multitude 63

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Honor in Ages Past O Honor, I knew thee155 ages past And trusted in thy156 great constancy And let thee influence all my acts. But whatever has happened to me? 5 How could I forget thy great friendship, Since it made a real man out of me, Someone others and I could respect For integrity157 and loyalty? How is it that I could run thee through158 10 In a cursed moment of thoughtless rage? Thou159 hast gone on to join chivalry160, And I'm stuck in this accurséd age. 155 Thee: you 156 Thy: your 157 Integrity: honor, completeness 158 Run thee through: expression meaning to kill with a sword 159 Thou: you 160 Chivalry: the ancient code of honor of the knights 64

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Too GodAwful Bad I didn't turn out too godawful bad, But you don't get calibre161 from nothing. A lot of quality moments I've had With my mom while young; that's why I'm something. 5 And here's the biggest mystery of all That won't enter mainstream mentality, Since it makes them guilty and does appall162: The quantity of time is quality. In addition to the time that is spent, 10 Quality means correcting their blunders. I improved when spankings I underwent, So, a little strapping163 could work wonders. 161 calibre: quality 162 appall: horrify 163 strapping: spanking; disciplining 65

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Reprimand Sarcastic Pride My teacher took me aside After class in eleventh grade To reprimand164 sarcastic pride For the foolish comments I made. 5 She told me that I would do well To be a little more sincere, Or something more than school I'd fail, Since I'd never learn to endear165 Others and would lose my few friends. 10 My mouth'd get me in trouble, too, Before my life reached its sad ends. It got me married. It was true. 164 Reprimand: scold; chasten; get on to 165 Endear: convince others to like one; befriend; garner sympathy and support 66

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mindless Work I like to do such mindless work As even the brain dead could do, For far away my mind can lurk166, Stalking a thought process or two. 5 Truly it gives my mind a chance To work on the issues and toils167 That constantly in my lobes168 dance— Virgins that will be mental spoils169. I've waited on some of them long, 10 I'd placed them on the back burner; I woo170 them in my mindless song; Mindless work makes me a learner. 166 Lurk: haunt 167 Toils: problems 168 lobes: lobes of the brain 169 Virgins. . . spoils: solutions will be found for the problems of old 170 Woo: court; entice 67

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Giroscopio It tosses and turns upside down, Then spins itself right on around. My mind is a gyroscope unseen, A perpetual motion machine, 5 Perfected, but without renown171. 171 Renown: fame 68

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A.S. Is this why I'm comorbid172? Asperger's Syndrome173? God forbid! But then where would I be if I Didn't have to learn not to cry 5 And how to cope by my own self Like a photosensitive dark elf Exposed to the light of Mercury And Venus's heat, or a sickly Orchid to Uranus's cold 10 Without a ray of sun to behold? Could this be why I feel so, well, Foreign in neurotypical hell 174 Where chitchat is the social grail And my confidence is too frail 15 To show my works? And is this why, Though ofttimes I would rather die, I have to force myself to hear, Feigning my care and cheer Despite how much it bothers me? 20 Is this why I can't disagree, And so become a pushover, Though loyal. And moreover, Is this why my mind's eye can't paint Visual images that quaint 25 People receive so easily, And why I fidget endlessly? Is this the cause I hate to dance Because I have an awkward stance? Would this explain why friends are rare, 30 And relationships go nowhere, Lasting long enough to wither Like a lotus in the winter? Is this why I grow obsessed to 172 Comorbid: the tendency to make sure depression always comes with a particularly nasty friend like anxiety, that way it does not get lonely 173 Asperger's Syndrome: a high functional level of autism characterized by stymied social growth and interaction, fixations, ultrasensativity, and brilliance. 174 Neurotypical hell: the normal world with all of its normal people doing all their normal things that do not jive will with an Aspie. 69

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The point I forget to eat food 35 And sleepwhich I can rarely do, And was picked on my school life through, And why I'm indiff'rent to touch, And scarcely say how I feel much? 70

More Heresies from Iyan Igma De Facto Despot I lead only by accident And circumstances uncontrolled. After all, I'm too arrogant And unfeeling to maintain hold 5 On power through legitimate175 Means, and therefore I never try. But somehow I'm chance's inmate176, And to serve I'm forced to comply177. No one would willingly choose me, 10 But it seems they're as stuck as I. We'll make it through this hopefully, But I wonder, “How, when, and why?” 175 legitimate: correct; proper 176 chance's inmate: (mis)fortune's prisoner 177 comply: obey 71

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sobre la Amistad I call them friends, but what are they? Just mere mortals who also bleed As much as any other Bob Who can't fulfill my darkest need. 5 I cannot tell them who I am, For when I but try to explain, Their eyes glaze over in boredom; Such lack of feeling makes it vain. And so I use the word lightly 10 To describe what I never had More than once or twicetrue friendship, Which improves me and makes me glad. 72

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Los Estandartes Tuyos "Friendship is a delicate beast That you must tend with utmost care, Because, if it ever escapes, You'll wonder if 'twere ever there." 5 You told me this, though much too late, After I'd let false friendship grow. There was ne'er reason to warn me, As it's something I well should know. Time passed like strangers lost in mist, 10 And my little faults were revealed. Though I'd been selfsacrificial, Our relationship I had killed. How? I fin'ly withheld the blade I'd long used in sacrifices 15 Of precious, intangible178 things, Being sure the past suffices179 To build a strong rapport180 with you. But you forgot all I'd given The selfsame moment, 20 And our shallow bond was riven181. That is to say when I perform In a manner which pleases you And live up to all your standards We can be friends; if not it's through. 178 Intangible: things like emotions and desires which cannot be physically touched 179 Suffices: is enough 180 Rapport: trusting relationship 181 Riven: torn apart 73

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Of Use I'd have no friends without PCs182, Since no one'd have a need of me. I'm only called if something breaks, Since I doctor digital aches. 5 When I'm broken, who can I call? My former friends me don't recall Till new needs give rise to abuse, And I can fin'ly be of use. 182 PCs: computers 74

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Another Week Another week has gone by. I See fate so shy and wonder why Though I may ply183 my hand and try To make life comply and not sigh 5 Itself awry184, the days decry185 That vain are my doings. I'm sure, Had I a mind pure, I'd deny Letting my days idly186 go by. 183 Ply: wield 184 Awry: twisted and off course 185 decry: revile; criticize 186 Idly: uselessly; lazily 75

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I Defy Buddha Some people find happiness Because they cannot see That what they think's the best they can get Is nothing but mediocrity. 5 But should I embrace the misery And stop desiring to excel? Or can I defy Buddha And escape ambition's hell? 76

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Vingtsix Today is just another day Marking that I'm another year Further from reaching dreams and goals, Being overtaken by fear. 5 More than eight thousand hours187 passed, And little progress has been made In all aspects except for love. This stops now, for I shall be staid188. My gyrations189 won't dig deeper 10 Holes than their dirt I can replace. Though next year's o'er before it's come190 Like a paycheck spent in one place, This is when I shall seize the year And improve all of my fortunes 15 By effort, sacrifice, and skill, Just as my esteem importunes191. 187 More. . . passed: There are 87608766 hours in a year, depending on who's counting 188 Staid: dignified 189 Gyrations: spinning, uncertain movements 190 Next. . . come: at least that's how it seems 191 Importunes: pleads 77

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Rare Perfection Among Men For four hundred and thirtysix Reasons there are not to love me Mentally, emotionally, Spiritually, and physically, 5 And that is all, I must confess, Give or take nine thousand ten. I am only...you know the rest, A rare perfection among men. None else is so complicated, 10 So loving them's vain and easy; Only patient, dedicated Gluttons192 for pain could dare love me. 192 Gluttons: those with high thresholds for pain, vice, or food 78

More Heresies from Iyan Igma SWMLFTL You read the classified wrong; I'm looking for a true lover. I don't want someone to change diapers Or tuck me in under the covers. 5 I don't want someone to be so Overprotective she smothers. I appreciate your offers, But, if I had my druthers193, I'd let you all know I've stopped 10 Taking applications for mothers. I was already born with one, And she's the only one I need. So save yourself some trouble: Quit your whining, fussing, and screed194. 193 Druthers: own way 194 Screed: shrill sounds fussy women make 79

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Egonym I gave my ego195 its own name So it can write as it might please, Reminding it to be aware That it's no reflection on me. 5 I let my ego make a world As tortured as it could create, Since it can suffer as it wants, But it can't make me an ingrate196. My ego will never be me; 10 Its company's an enigma197. I ignore it as best I can, Which just saddens Iyan Igma198. 195 ego: the mistaken identity we give ourselves 196 ingrate: ungrateful person 197 enigma: mystery 198 Iyan Igma: the name of my ego 80

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Flummoxed Compass I'm a compass stationed in a world With everything working fine. I pointed North without variance199 And kept everything in line. 5 But in a moment I've been flummoxed200, For the poles have disappeared, And all the courses I'd set out Can no longer be steered, And now I'm spinning 'round and around, 10 Not knowing whither201 I should go, Wishing to be still and certain, But dead guides can't let me know. 199 Variance: wavering 200 Flummoxed: poleaxed; confused 201 Whither: where 81

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Gran Fracaso The world has tired of hearing woes202; I'm tired of failing when I've tried. I'm more of a failure than those Who fail to commit suicide. 5 At least they try to do something With their lives, but what can I claim? My maimed203 soul tells me I'm nothing; Long sleeves can't hide my marks of shame204. They205 might achieve recovery— 10 They just need to have more selfworth. Alone I make my quavery206, Being a condemned soul since birth. 202 Woes: problems; sad tales 203 maimed: scarred and mutilated 204 Long. . . shame: people who slit their wrists often later wear longsleeved shirts; there are no long shirts that the soul can wear. Nor is there a need, for no one else know that they are there besides the individual, who can see them clearly. 205 They: those who fail to commit suicide 206 quavery: complaint 82

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lamaphite Of course, I will go and do it,207 But only after I complain. Acting in any other way Would just seem totally insane. 5 Remember I'm only mortal, And that's all I'm going to be. So recall that when I murmur, It's just the Lamaphite208 in me. 207 I. . . it: Nephi responded “I will go and I will do...” to what his brothers complained about. (1 Nephi 3:7) 208 Lamaphite: a play on the names of two brothers who were exactly the opposite in attitude. Laman would grumble whenever he was asked to do anything, and generally he never did what was asked of him. Nephi would do whatever he asked immediately. Their descendants were called the Lamanites and the Nephites. I am one who will go and do, though I'll grumble about it most of the time. 83

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Me Volviste Puercoespinos You've made a porcupine of me Because I have such thick skin That the quills and darts you stick In me are never set free again. 5 So I walk around with bristles That keep others from growing close, And all the pain I keep bottled in Torments me even whilst I repose209. 209 Repose: sleep 84

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Small Jaunts Childhood trips were oft painful things, Even those small jaunts210 to the store. Listening as a sibling sings Made you vow to go nevermore. 5 The pain, the pain, but not from song, But from bruised arms and wounded prides When a punch buggy211 drove along Causing large bruises on our hides212 Should it be that we were not first 10 To see it and strike, and even then There were times you were reimbursed213. Would this misery never end? Were we hit again, we would cry; No boy should be seen doing such. 15 That, in truth, is the reason why We asked, "Are we there yet?" so much. It had naught to do with the way The ability to drive morphs214 Your mind. What seemed to take all day 20 To reach, now but five minutes dwarfs. Lo, herein lays perception's key: Five minutes of what you control Are hours of captivity When you're a prisoner in soul. 210 jaunts: excursions; trips 211 punch buggy: a Volkswagen Beetle, so creatively named because seeing it entitled one to punch other passengers without mercy... 212 hides: skin 213 reimbursed: paid back 214 morphs: changes; alters 85

More Heresies from Iyan Igma strangers as strange as me my neighbors' kids are home alone the sweet one's 5 the angel's 3 i scolded them for opening the door to strangers as strange as me 5 and as i walked across the street to my dilapidated215 abode a tiny thought entered my mind which incessantly216 does goad217 the scum of the earth worst parents 10 who beat their kids and scream can still wind up with the best kids while of kids i may only dream so maybe if i weren't such a nice guy and merited no selfdignity 15 i might have great offspring218 and therein lays the irony219 215 Dilapidated: rundown 216 Incessantly: constantly 217 Goad: annoy; molest; irritate 218 Offspring: children 219 Irony: the substance of my life; paradox; how sarcasm is conveyed, often by God 86

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I watched as you died An aged child, I watched you as you died, Slowly at first for you yet believed At first in diet and then in faith, Albeit your hopes were quite deceived. 5 You staunchly refused to have chemo, Since radiation sickened you so. The healers all came and laid on hands Covering your head with olive oil. You thought there was much reason to live, 10 But still your health continued to spoil. And then you died, your innermost light, Your source of will, the strength of your fight. And afterwards little time was left, And you were deteriorating, 15 Spewing acid words to maim my faith. Your spirit was debilitating220. Your muscle reduced to nothingness, Your stoicism221 into tenderness. You whittled a wooden pry bar pick 20 To open your nearly lockjawed222 mouth For liquid drops to tease the hunger. Your ravaged being headed south. The bastion223 of manhood I once knew, Wasting, lucidity224 failing you 25 Nor pranks nor jokes would ever more play 220 Debilitating: weakening 221 Stoicism: emotionless appearance; outward show of strength and indifference 222 Lockjawed: lockjaw was a disease that prevented a person from opening their mouths 223 Bastion: fortress; stronghold 224 Lucidity: mental clarity 87

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The mage who could make the skies rain gum226. 225 A frail filament227 nigh to burn out We gave our last regards one by one In a small window of remembrance 30 While morphine and pain were no cumbrance228, And you died as she held your shriveled hand, Never making it past fortytwo. And since there was nothing we could give To mitigate229 pain or restore you, 35 Your death was a gift on Christmas Day; You died forgiven in every way. 225 Mage: magician; wizard 226 Skies rain gum: a “magic” trick he would play every once in a while 227 Filament: the thin strand of Tungsten inside an incandescent lamp which glows when electricity is applied to it. 228 Cumbrance: hindrance; impediment 229 Mitigate: ease 88

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Realism The First to Go Innocence is your first friend When you bump into this world, Getting quite the concussion230. It finds you fetal and curled 5 And whispers sick lullabies To make you trust everyone. And suff'ring from amnesia, Confidence is easily won. Life and friends start to betray, 10 And everything is just show. Abandoned, abused you find Innocence was the first to go. 230 Concussion: a shock or jolt that often results in a head injury which can impair thinking and motor functions 89

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Puesto del Sol del Paraíso It's hard to live within the now When the burden of future weighs On me, since inevitably This way comes tragedy the blase231. 5 And so it seems that I am caught Between two black holes vying to Tear me apart: Idealism And what Realism claims true. Tormented, immobilized, I 10 Listen to "Waterloo Sunset" Wishing there were a paradise And gazing'd let me attain it. 231 Blase: unconcerned because it all seems commonplace 90

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Enmy Prithee, what's the point in living, When there's nothing to believe in? All the bastions232 of confidence Abuse us of our innocence. 5 Oh man so frail233, and yet what mind We waste by making reason blind! We pray to God to answer prayers, Thinking that something up there cares. All the men in whom we place trust 10 Will fade to dust as iron rusts. Science with its fact and fiction, And ever useless tradition, And all the things that are on earth That we've held certain since birth 15 Are empty. The real perfidy's234 I can't dream to believe in me. 232 Bastions: fortresses; strongholds 233 Frail: delicate; fragile; weak 234 Perfidy: tragic betrayal 91

More Heresies from Iyan Igma This World of Mimes I pass through this world full of mimes235 Who haven't aught236 to say to me. I have no patience for their signs, Which are gossip, assuredly. 5 With thoughts as empty as their words, They try to grab my attention. They're like crabs pulling down the one Fleeing the tank by ascension237. They are living inside boxes 10 Which only exist mentally. Angrily they watch me pass by Wishing to make a mime of me. 235 Mimes: those who pantomime their actions, never speaking. Stereotypically they paint their faces white and are stuck inside their own selfimposed boxes. 236 Aught: anything 237 Crabs...ascension: if one crab tries to escape a tank, the others will pull it back down 92

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Modestia How could I have respect for you, If you've no respect for yourself? You make yourself a mere trinket Like any other on a shelf. 5 You dress like you're a piece of meat, Saying you're free to rouse238 hunger. You cover less than diapers did, Running 'round when you were younger. So you've become like all the rest 10 Who have forsaken modesty, Being blinded by fashion trends, Debasing239 yourself, though you can't see. 238 Rouse: stir up; excite 239 Debase: degrade; lower; lessen 93

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Codependent Happiness I make myself miserable By being nothing more than me, And so I have to reach out to Others that I might be happy. 5 But depending on others to Sate joy's needs is surely folly240, For everyone must one day fail, And then how shall I be jolly? There are times when I'll be alone, 10 But must this mean that I'll be sad? What aspect of my selfesteem Renders241 me such a helpless lad? When shall I end codependence242 On others to find happiness, 15 By finding joy within myself To pave the way to love's success? 240 Folly: a mistake; an error 241 Renders: makes 242 Codependence: having to help others who become dependent on you in order to feel happy 94

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Drenched, Hungry, Unemployed As I was walking through a storm, A young man passed my way. The water poured all over his form, So I gave my umbrella way. 5 A different time and a different place, When I was just about to munch, I saw hunger on someone's face, And so I gave away my lunch. I knew that she needed a job, 10 So I quickly gave her my own. Unemployed without gratitude From her, I found myself alone. Money, cars, and everything gone, And time squandered so foolishly. 15 Now I'm the one who has nothing, But no one wants to care for me. 95

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Like Camping, But Colder Silence. There's no fire No comrades with whom to chat No woman to snuggle to I don't even own a hat 5 The power's off yet again I don't get paid till next week Cold water to cleanse in hurriedly Poor pitiful physique 96

More Heresies from Iyan Igma To Mitigate the Rub Have you ever looked into eyes That say I'm disappointed in you And told yourself quite honestly, 'That goes for the both of us,' too? 5 My life is wasted opportunities; I expected so much more of me, But I've let talent putrefy243 for the Appeasement of ficklety244. What right do they have to hope in me, 10 For I'm human and bound to fail? I'll not be their surrogate245 dreams. I live for me; I live in hell. So why does something within long to try To mitigate246 the rub and make them smile? 15 It must be an appeal to my pride; Have I been manipulated the whole while? Why should their eyes rend247 my conscience248 And their words eradicate249 what peace I've been able to make with myself. 20 Their eyes sheer250 the wolf of fleece. Maybe that is why we have friends, To discomfit251 us and remind us of who We should've been were life not lies 243 Putrefy: rot; waste away 244 Ficklety: woman 245 Surrogate: one whose own life or dreams are used as a substitute for another; a proxy 246 Mitigate: lessen; appease 247 Rend: tear 248 Conscience: that pesky little nagging voice that keeps us from completely enjoying our misdeeds 249 Eradicate: destroy 250 Sheer: cut; shave 251 Discomfit: upset 97

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And our hopes materialized on cue. 98

More Heresies from Iyan Igma You'll Be a Man Just straighten up your shoulders And hold your head up high; Make yourself smile When you want to cry. 5 Make sure they only see laughter; Don't make comments bitter and wry. Straightly you'll become a man, If you don't break down as you try. Your problems will pass byandby, 10 And, if not, one day you'll die. 99

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Honor Graduate Congratulations, you have more To be proud of than you now know, For you have managed to excel Despite the negligence galore 5 Of the school system that, although It claims to not want you to fail, Has tried to force you to be dumb, Thereby failing your potential, And spite the pressures to conform. 10 But you managed not to succumb To being inconsequential, Which is society's true norm. For like those who walk in the night With eyes adjusted to the dark 15 Are pained whenever light should shine, If one should become more than trite,252 While making the distinction stark, The rest will clutch their eyes and whine. So, bravo that you've come this far 20 Thanks to parents and inner strength, Notwithstanding the limited Resources that schools gave. You are Poised to succeed, and will at length, Should you e'er remain committed. 252 Trite: ordinary 100

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Life's JackintheBox The music plays its notes so slow, And the handle turns the surprise. The air's stillness is apropos253, But not excitement in your eyes. 5 Something clicks as you turn a note; Your stomach sours and sickens. You cringe, watching the lid explode Like suicide bomber chickens. The jackinthebox taunts us now; 10 We push his scabby head back in. Someone winds him the first time loud; They can't help but do it again. But sometimes some, after their shocks, Forget to push the puppet in; 15 They're scared by their jackinthebox, For that is life, world with an end. 253 apropos: appropriate 101

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Perseverance Thank goodness that there is mercy, Since there's no reincarnation254. It could be as sweet as Circe255 Or eternal condemnation. 5 I could only stand one mortal Life, and even then I despise256 it. I suffer waiting the portal257 In quite a hysterical258 fit. I am just life's helpless victim, 10 Hoping that I can make it through; Indeed, I feel trapped like Idunn259, And, despite my wishes, I'm blue. Thereby is shown that to endure To the end's not just to get through 15 The hard times and bitter manure, The quicksand and the stagnant slough260, By which we haply term our life. We'll do these things just by living. Instead 'tis to keep faith through strife261, 20 Dead after a life of giving. 254 Reincarnation: to continue a seemingly endless loop of existence, being reborn into another animal or human form depending on your previous life 255 Circe: the Greek goddess who...entertained Odysseus for several years. 256 Despise: hate; loathe; or remove the spies 257 Portal: doorway, entryway (to death) 258 hysterical: wild, uncontrollable, spastic, and irrationally anxious 259 Idunn: a Norse goddess who was trapped by a giant courtesy of Loki 260 slough: creek 261 strife: problems 102

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Intelligence's Curse At times I've seen intelligence As the veritable262 curse it is When wasted on the bleakest minds Who despise263 how their brains so whiz. 5 Why should they hate to be themselves? Because there are few who like them, Since at times they lack social skills And they're out of reach on the limb. That is to say, sans saying aught264 10 Or bragging of how smart they are, Their peers can easily sense it And feel as if they were a Tsar265. They're ostracized266 for being more Than another run of the mill 15 Person. When younger it's harder, Due to the pains taunts make one feel. The taunts stem from other's envy, Since they feel intimidated. They can't see that their despisers 20 In time will become deflated. For with age comes experience, And opportunities will bloom. The lonely smart can wield genius, And their fiercest taunters a broom. 25 This is a world where power rules When we leave the schoolyard behind. 262 Veritable: true 263 Despise: hate 264 Aught: anything 265 Tsar: haughty and often cruel Russian emperor 266 Ostracized: left out; alienated 103

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Knowledge is the sceptre267 of kings, And kings are those who use their minds. And so we see the latter end 30 Of the existence of the smart Is far superior, mending Adroitly268 the pains of its start. Long hence I was the very sort, Helpless, spite my mental powers, 35 To see that out of tons of dung Can grow such amazing flowers. 267 Sceptre: staff signifying power 268 Adroitly: expertly; with great skill 104

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Another One of Those Mornings Have you ever had another One of those mornings when God laughs And lets a million goads269 bother Us, enjoying our sweet mishaps? 5 Despite all the care you take, To the world's bull you're painted red. You didn't toss or turn or shake, But were stationary270 in bed And woke up in the same old place 10 As your happier yesterday, But now you feel a tragic grace. What is going on here today? You tell yourself that something great Is bound to happen pretty soon, 15 Hoping your mantra271 will change fate, Your day, crossed stars, and a bad moon. 269 Goads: annoyingly problematic circumstances 270 Stationary: still, in one place 271 Mantra: a spiritual expression often used to induce a higher form of consciousness. Here it is that after all of these problems, something good is bound to happen. 105

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Paltry Reflections Paltry reflections of myself Are displayed in mocking windows That are as busy as a delf272. They brim with translucent273 shadows. 5 I walk along and feel depressed With every new store that I pass; The happy faceless274 have oppressed Me—they live safe within the glass. They sport the goods I can't possess 10 And make food odors enticing. I'd enter in, but I assess That the poor can't dream of icing, And it's bad enough that I'm here Tormenting myself helplessly. 15 I'm as close to having what's dear To me now, as ever I'll be. I realize here where I'm stopping While hunger my soul is carving: Life is going window shopping 20 When you are dead broke and starving. 272 delf: dig site; quarry 273 translucent: being able to be see through them, but not completely transparent. 274 Happy faceless: most people in what I write are faceless and nameless, mainly because most people have yet to figure out a smidgen of who they are, thinking that luxuries and lucre and lasciviousness are all that matter. 106

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Altruism Died with Christ Altruism275 died with the Christ, But was never resurrected. Egoism's276 been the zeitgeist277 And driving force of mankind since. 5 Fish hooks line each subtle offer, Waiting to tear into our gills; When we're the ones to help proffer,278 There's something in it for ourselves. Good deeds may come because we feel 10 We must do them; that's what we're taught. We'd scarcely admit that the real Reason's to boast how good we are. So what are my motivations? How is it helping you helps me? 15 Is this real service I render, Or vain279 ego flattery? 275 Altruism: unselfish giving or serving with no regard to what one will receive in exchange 276 Egoism: selfishness 277 Zeitgeist: spirit of the times; the attitude 278 Proffer: offer 279 Vain: useless; petty 107

More Heresies from Iyan Igma In Secrecy No matter where it is you go, And the secrecy you maintain, And who you think would never know, And how much you trust in your brain, 5 There's always someone watching you, Seeing the things you thought you did Free of the askance280 looking view In the soul's conspiracy hid. And as they spy they start to smile 10 And think of whom else they might tell The perverted281 version to, while They282 conjure283 up false sights as well. Even innocuous284 actions Face gross285 misinterpretations 15 By those who see mere fractions With the worst imaginations. 280 askance: curiously suspicious 281 perverted: changed; corrupted 282 They: the people they're telling the gossip to 283 conjure: confabulate; create 284 innocuous: harmless 285 gross: while it can mean nasty, it here means the most extreme 108

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Despotism Lhasa The Olympics began early286; See how the torch is passed around. The barbecue is now burning, And dead bodies are on the ground. 5 Give them287 back the Dalai Lama And their rightful sovereignty288. You289 still would have a billion with No chance of ever being free. See how the shot put through their skulls 10 Has rendered them disqualified. But your violence only arms them; It can't squash such a dream or pride. You only arouse suspicion Blocking Internet and TV; 15 Don't you see, you're adding firewood To flames of foreign sympathies. 286 Olympics...early: with the Tibetan protests and massacre 287 them: the Tibetans 288 sovereignty: the ability to govern yourself 289 you: China 109

More Heresies from Iyan Igma There's a Conservative Outside My Window There's a Conservative outside my window Who wants to take my rights away And make sure I have no privacy And increase the taxes I pay290. 5 He wants me to live the morals That he pretends he's got. He tries to brainwash me And make me something I'm not. He just wants me to be a slave, 10 Someone who isn't allowed to think. But you wouldn't know it From the friendly way he winks. He only cares about money, But he doesn't care about me, 15 Or if I have good health care, And a good, affordable degree. He wants me to go off to war, Creating false enemies. He doesn't want to help others' lives; 20 He wants to help big companies. He doesn't care about our world, Or anything beautiful within it. The only thing he cares about Is how much he has this minute. 25 He doesn't care if I lose a home Or if my family has no job, Since he won't regulate industry. As you can tell, he's a real slob. Unlike the monsters under my bed, 30 I can't just scare him away. I can only be rid of him if 290 Increase...pay: Conservatives raise taxes on lower and middle class while lowering them for the rich. 110

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I choose to vote Liberal today. 111

More Heresies from Iyan Igma TheoTyranny Be gentle with us “Gentiles.”291 Let us choose our own path And deal with our own consequences And suffer through the aftermath. 5 Don't take pity upon our souls And force us to be saved From sin by not having the option. That's no "Christian" way to behave. Don't think because you're brainwashed 10 To do your leaders' bidding That that makes you right and better. I wish you were kidding And realized that our eyes are open To the reality you choose to ignore: 15 You're the delusional292 who need help. Does no one use cyanide anymore293? The world would be a better place Without you and your theotyranny294. There has to be separation 'twixt church 20 And state to have democracy. For if you give the churches power, Ecclesiastical295 abuses ensue296, Oppressing all who believe differently, And we'll become another Iran297, too. 291 Gentiles: a derogatory term used by Hebrews, Christians, and Mormons. It means “the nations” and refers to those that aren't members of their sects 292 Delusional: crazy ones 293 Does. . . anymore: referring to extremist cults who used cyanide to precipitate mass suicide; if there weren't a possible legal action involved with me remarking in a tongueincheek manner that the world would be a better place if more religious fanatics did so, then I might include that here. . . 294 Theotyranny: the despotic rule of a people by religious nuts 295 Ecclesiastical: religious 296 Ensue: will happen 112

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Loony Duped Simpletons Don't bother me; I have no mind. I do what I'm told to do. I could never think for myself, Or I'd be miserable as you. 5 Surely you must gnash298 your teeth And burn in internal hell For using the faculties299 God gave. You poor soul. I'm feeling well. I love to be deluded300 10 Into trusting an “inspired” voice, For my zealots301 couldn't be fallible302. To be their thrall303 makes me rejoice. 297 Another Iran: another theocratic state in which human rights, especially those of women, are suppressed—all in the name of religion, mind you 298 Gnash: grind or strike together forcefully 299 Faculties: abilities, especially mental 300 Deluded: deceived into believing fantasies and lies 301 Zealots: fanatics; a military unit in the game Starcraft 302 Fallible: able to make mistakes 303 Thrall: slave 113

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Dear John Oh, God, there is no place for me; I'll have naught304 to do with you, If worshipping per man's decrees Means I can't be to myself true. 5 I have a brain, you understand, After all, you gave it to me, And discern305 'twixt306 right and wrong And what's overzealous fanatacy307. I cannot be happy or feel smug 10 With the barbarity308 you condone309. I have to guard my morals, So it's best I were alone. Please don't try to contact me; Rein in your bitches and hounds 15 That bark and bray and snap at me, Thinking to chase me back into the pound. I never thought we'd separate, Especially under such conditions. I loved you, but I'm moving on. 20 I don't need your superstitions. 304 Naught: nothing 305 Discern: distinguish 306 'twixt: between; one letter off from a tasty, preservativefilled candy bar 307 Overzealous fanatacy: the lunacy inherent in those who turn beliefs into cults 308 Barbarity: horrendous acts, such as the Inquisition, the Crusades, oppressing human rights, and many other such atrocities attributed falsely to God 309 Condone: excuse; allow 114

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Progress, They Call It They have this crazy thing, progress They call it, progress to destroy The wisdom of ancient forests And to fill in the wetlands' joy, 5 To build prefab subdivisions Sold by prospectors overpriced, To let billboards occlude310 visions Of awe easily sacrificed, To extend more mad parking lots 10 And the shopping center's control, Making us commercialized bots. And as nature loses its soul For businesses that will soon fail Where nature's thrived millennia. 15 I note progress's distinct smell; Let's just say it's not zinnia311. 310 occlude: clutter, block, hide 311 zinnia: a type of flower 115

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A.B.S. So glad the day that you were born, Your parents now secretly mourn The legacy you left behind Because you passively decline 5 To be grouped because of your skin With the older class of your kin312. Woe, that you were born in this land, Peacefully taken by the hand To eat the fruit your parents sowed, 10 Bleeding and sweating as they hoed So you'd not have to struggle so. Once, this hope313 made their bosoms glow And work despite the mounting pain, Sorrows heat, and frustration's rain. 15 You forget the price of their gift, Letting yourself go far adrift, Telling your culture to be hung, Forgetting your true mother tongue Due to pop culture's easy lies 20 Strengthened each time your heart denies The inborn gift squandered314 away With broken, mumbled things you say Because you have to search your brain Whenever you want to explain 25 Anything to your true culture. Pride's an early feasting vulture That doesn't wait until you're dead Before it goes straight for your head. You think you're better since you speak 30 A different language and look sleek. But your parents know who they are And know what has brought them thus far. You try to avoid social shame By taking on a cool nickname 35 And trying not to be revealed 312 Kin: relatives; family 313 This hope: that you would be born in a land of opportunity where you'd not have to struggle like they did 314 Squandered: wasted 116

More Heresies from Iyan Igma As the foreigner your heart killed, Giving instead a greater curse That will take decades to feel worse Till you appreciate your parentage 40 And then realize you've lost your heritage, Which is this salad bowl's315 disease— America's hypocrisies, The land of opportunity Where parents' hearts feel misery. 45 In childhood you felt like a thrall316 To interpret for one and all, But it gave you a sense of might And made you feel like you were bright. And now you think how smart you've grown, 50 But lack the most vital bits known. Though bloody, your heart is fallow317 You American Born Shallow. 315 This salad bowl: America 316 Thrall: slave 317 Fallow: barren 117

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Idealism Let Wasted Years Be Regrets, well, I've had many, But 'tis best to let wasted years be, As reliving them would make The present and future misery. 5 "What can I do now to change my course? How can I be a happier me?" Are the questions I should ask myself To evade318 future regret and misery. The past's been wrought; it brought me here, 10 And now it's up to me to see That since this is the only moment It's the best possible one for me319. 318 Evade: avoid; get around 319 Best....me: albeit, I'm no Dr. Pangloss 118

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The State Within Let them320 do as they may, The world will spin any way, And if they should condemn us and them, It's still not the souls of men321. 5 So in the darkest captivity, And in the ruse322 of democracy, There comes a point when I must say, Let Caesar reign in Caesar's day323. As for Iyan, he will enjoy life, 10 Taking the moment as a wife, With an eye placed on how I feel, For this one second alone is real, And if I find love in dark and cold, Or secret sunlight I can hold, 15 It matters not the state I'm in, What matters is the state within324. 320 Them: the corrupt politicians 321 Condemn. . . men: no matter how bad they make it for us physically, they can't destroy our souls—only we can do that. 322 Ruse: joke 323 Caesar reign. . . day: see Matthew 22:21 324 State within: one's mental and spiritual state 119

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Integrity These glasses, so much a part of Who I was, lay smashed in pieces Like the identity I gave myself Per normal mental diseases 5 By living in the constructs of Society's meaninglessness, And now the glasses and myself Are naught325 but rent in twain326 rubbish327, And no one can identify328 with 10 This blinded man who now can see It takes more than glasses to make a man, And just a confused society To hold him back from becoming The full measure of what he should be 15 By reaching in his soul to find The natal329 spark of divinity. It's there, as it has always been, Since it is all that will ever be. With my glasses and ego330 broken now 20 I'm finally beginning to start to see... 325 Naught: nothing 326 Rent in twain: torn in half 327 Rubbish: garbage 328 Identify: understand; empathize 329 Natal: inborn 330 Ego: who you think you are, though you are not 120

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Layers of SelfMate Importance I glimpsed it then, though I would not, But it was all too plain to see That our high school social circles Wouldn't last through eternity. 5 Everything we thought important Upon which we based selfesteem Faded away as we moved on, Those castes331 and classes just a dream. We evolved into a new layer, 10 Somehow free from the one before, But thought the new one tantamount332 And deluded333 ourselves once more. Little towns and school social groups Will be eclipsed334 by escalades335 15 That always have superiors, Though it's all just a masquerade336. Should you learn past obsession with Infinitesimal337 prominence 338 Is futile339, since you never climb 20 The ladder of social pretense340, 331 Castes: social classes or orders 332 Tantamount: allimportant 333 Deluded: beguiled; deceived 334 Eclipsed: become obscured and made irrelevant 335 Escalades: rungs on a ladder 336 Masquerade: a costume party where we all pretend to be someone or something that we're not, generally more important than we are 337 Infinitesimal: microscopic; very small and insignificant 338 Prominence: fame or social rank 339 Futile: useless; vain 340 Social pretense: social order is just an illusion we allow ourselves to believe 121

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 341 Your ego becomes desperate, Since it has a need to fulfill The illusions of sanity By social order and group will,. 25 You might become manumitted342 From the lies that control your mind And live as an outsider, but Even then you might still be blind Because the ego will adapt, 30 And its chains are silky and strong. Even should you escape somehow, You'll enslave yourself before long. 341 Ego: the “man behind the curtain” in your mind that makes you act as if you were someone you are really not, often by an appeal to selfishness 342 Manumitted: freed from slavery 122

More Heresies from Iyan Igma SoulSightsee I let too many yesterdays Accumulate too many years Not realizing it mattered not Should I be targeted with sneers. 5 What others think's unimportant, Unless I believe their labels, For then I'd be a physicist Who spent all day mucking stables343. That is, I, just like everyone, 10 Have unlimited potential, Until I give the least credence344 To being inconsequential. More than a decade was interred345 Ere346 I found I could be happy 15 If I accepted me for me With my idiosyncrasies347. But still I didn't comprehend How easy 'tis to slip away. Vigilant, I must beware the 20 Selfdeprecating things I say, For I'm who limits my power By believing negatively. So many wonders lay within, And we should all go soulsightsee. 343 What others. . . stables: if we believe what others think about us, then we'll fall so far shy of our true potential 344 Credence: belief 345 Interred: buried 346 Ere: before 347 Idiosyncrasies: quirky little habits 123

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Belief It's not the belief that matters, just belief. No matter the system, dogma348, or creed349 The adherents350 cling to veracity351 Not due to truth but to an inner need. 5 This is proper, for with the natal352 spark Is the certainty that beyond its realm353 Something incomprehensible354 awaits. To have no faith is to give fear the helm355. So poly's356, mono's357, and ancestrics358 10 Worship spirit and being deifics359 With the same fervor360 astrologists give Stars and fact's sought by the scientifics. Though different, these systems are religions Whose power comes not from their correctness 15 But from the beliefs of their believers Who cling to the controvertible361 mess With every last fiber of their being Making miracles out of delusions, 348 Dogma: tenet; religious precept 349 Creed: definite belief 350 Adherents: believers 351 Veracity: truthfulness 352 Natal: birth 353 Realm: power; control 354 Incomprehensible: beyond our understanding 355 Helm: “the boatsteering thingy” to quote Muppet Treasure Island 356 Poly's: polytheists; those like Hindus who worship more than one god 357 Mono's: monotheists; those like Muslims, Jews, and Christians who worship one god 358 Ancestrics: those who practice Shintoism and some forms of shamanism and worship their ancestors, among others 359 Deifics: gods 360 Fervor: zeal; ardor; passionate devotion 361 Controvertible: able to be challenged; arguable; unqualified 124

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ignoring truth for what they want to see, 20 Staving off362 reason's threats via preclusions,363 And all to guard the traditional myths And thereby defend their identity364 Found in the power of belief itself. This potency365 blesses humanity 25 And guides each individual's own trek Through what would be a cold mortality. The "in what's" extremely irrelevant366, Whereas belief is true vitality367. 362 Staving off: fending off; refusing to believe 363 Preclusions: prepared responses for anticipated controversy 364 Identity: a large portion of a person's identity is connected to what they choose to or not to believe. 365 Potency: power 366 Irrelevant: unimportant 367 Vitality: the essence and power of life 125

More Heresies from Iyan Igma That I AM And soon this too shall pass away, Though it actually never was, And I let myself get frustrated By the illusion of reality because 5 I could not be still and know That I AM, just as is God, And my body and all that passes here Mean no more than the sod And water from which this form's made 10 To disguise myself with ego, And nothing really matters when Eternity I come to reknow, Which can happen here if I let Delusions and pride slip away 15 And find the truth that calms The soul when peace becomes its way. 126

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Life's Labours Ills I once "worked" the whole day through And came home exhausted and sore And dreaded the dawn's return to work, Knowing the hours would be a bore. 5 I once grew sick of working there; My mind was a whip to force my feet. My wrists were bound in iron shackles; I kept going on in defeat. I once worked as a prisoner 10 To money, needs, pleasure, and bills; And my work lost its calibre368, And labours were my life's ills. And then I found the antidote: A happy, focused attitude. 15 Work was a freedom and blessing Which brought me joy and gratitude. 368 Calibre: quality 127

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Normalcy's Untrue For every tit there is a tat; To be depressed brings happiness. One must be sad, then after that One may appreciate gladness. 5 You have to lose it all to find Your discombobulated369 you. Just the crazy find their sane mind, Since they see normalcy's untrue. You love after you lose your heart, 10 When another soul gives you theirs. Life's dominoes fall from birth's start, But God picks them up and makes stairs. Whate'er's destroyed can be rebuilt Grander and more magnificent. 15 What good's a sword with no hilt? Interest enriches those who've lent. 369 Discombobulated: mixed up, disjointed, swirled, and dismembered 128

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Commonality There's a hero in the common man We often overlook, for few can See past a pair of mustardstained hands. We can't see his potential up close 5 When focusing on his oily nose And dirty, tattered, disheveled370 clothes, But if we cut him a little slack And ignored his blatant371 lack of tact372 We would see far more than a stooped back. 10 For we would see true divinity; He's just the same as you and me Despite our blind labels' heresy373. 370 Disheveled: wrinkled 371 Blatant: unabashed; unapologetic 372 Tact: diplomatic way of speaking so as not to offend others 373 Blind. . . heresy: the woeful sin of giving everyone labels and pronouncing our opinion on them, despite our duty and limited perception 129

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Deathbed Confession The end cares not what we have done Nor the tears we have caused to shed, But only what we have become Through life's mistakes until we're dead. 5 That's why a deathbed confession Hurts the one who procrastinates374; They've lost sundry375 chances to serve If they embrace the path too late. But still the end will welcome them 10 With a sly grin because it knows The end is just the beginning For a new path our actions chose. 374 Procrastinates: postpones largely because of an innate sense of laziness 375 Sundry: many; countless 130

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Salutary Anarchy Rules are made to be ignored; They're only broken if you're caught. Love according to your heart, And don't worry about aught 376 5 That others think and say, Since they your life won't live. They won't have to have regret When you're ancient and pensive377 About the squandered378 choices 10 Made so carelessly without Considering how minutia379 Can turn your life from inside out. So live, ignore the rules that bind, Be true to you, and be happy. 15 Then, you'll be a good example Of salutary380 anarchy381. 376 Aught: anything 377 Pensive: deeply thinking 378 Squandered: wasted 379 Minutia: incredibly tiny details 380 Salutary: healthy; beneficial 381 Anarchy: disregard for the rules of man and government 131

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Meaningless Sex Why would I want meaningless sex Such as any stranger could give, An exchange of empty passion Just to give lust a chance to live, 5 When intercourse is the highest Expression of intimacy And a manner to augment love? Why cave to superfluity382 And tarnish383 the most sacred gift 10 To offer in love and respect? I would then be little more than An instinctive beast or insect. 382 Superfluity: shallowness 383 Tarnish: sully; corrode; stain 132

More Heresies from Iyan Igma /* Love.c While love may be a private thing— An affair you make you smile And make your dreams take wing And make happiness a fertile Nile, 5 Nevertheless, it is free to all In the sense of liberty, (True love costs something to install: Sacrifice, patience, and humility.) So all who would distribute love may, 10 But do it wisely, carefully, Holding naught back, not making a play, Being rewarded celestially. */ #include <patience.h> #include <forgiveness.h> #include <devotion.h> #include <communication.h> #include <praise.h> #include <affection.h> #include <respect.h> #include <laughter.h> #include <unity.h> #include <sacrifice.h> static void love() { if alive(TRUE) { spoil() { compliment_each_day(); do_little_acts_of_service(); if (happy){ relish_the_moment();} else if (sad){ hug();} else if (tired){ massage_and_snuggle();} 133

More Heresies from Iyan Igma else if (angry){ apologize_and_give_flowers();} else if (offensive){ forgive_immediately();} else if (hurt){ be_compassionate();} } } else miss_dreadfully_each_passing_second(); } 134

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Optimism Wintry Days In Hell I'll suffer with you tomorrow, And we can gnash our teeth and yell384. Nay, talk ye not of your sorrow, For it's rare that I feel this well. 5 Keep your burning and your brimstone385, And maybe next week I'll join you. But for now the tormentor's gone, And a cold breeze is slipping through. I think I'll take advantage of 10 Providence386 to wet my whistle387. Maybe I'll even find a love Who's not gnawed down to the gristle. Don't think I'll sit on my fanny, The victim of my own fear's spell, 15 For there are only so many Of these rare, wintry days in hell. 384 gnash. . . yell: the primary diversion in the Christian concept of hell; what I do in my sleep 385 Brimstone: volcanic sulfur 386 Providence: a divine blessing 387 wet my whistle: the rich man cried for Lazarus to give him to drink. see Luke 16:24 135

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Each Crazy Woman God in His infinite388 might Formed the earth and gave it night, Gave it the sun to rule the day, The moon to reign when it's away, 5 Stars to twinkle and inspire, Beasts complete with primal389 desire, Land to stretch ourselves upon, Rivers flowing till they're gone Into the sea which consumes all, 10 Plants to be the food chain's thrall390, And a million unknown details With the Providence391 that entails392. He made man and was not tired, And then made the helpmeet393 desired. 15 Then, poor God needed a break; It seems He too can make a mistake, For now He sees there is no rest From a woman's whining and behests394. There's only so much God and man 20 Can take from each crazy woman. 388 Infinite: without end 389 Primal: instinctual 390 Thrall: servant; slave 391 Providence: the hand of God in the little details, which prepares the way for us 392 Entails: comes as a consequence 393 Helpmeet: equal partner 394 Behests: requests; commands 136

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Amputee You might wonder what is wrong with me, Why my lamps of romance appear blown Why I am awkward and out of touch; Eve took off with my romantic bone. 5 It's tragic, since I received no say, And out of all twohundred and six395, The one to make my love life flourish Happens to be the very one He picks396. So don't blame me for my shortcomings, 10 Romance has been surgic'ly removed. Now I fail, though I would cherish you, Exalting your grace as it behooves397. 395 Two...six: there are 206 bones in the human body; unless you're special 396 He picks: God chooses to remove 397 Behooves: befits; should be 137

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Exus Some people need to come with a Warning label to indicate How truly crazy they are ere398 We date them and find out too late! 5 How many hours of panic And mind games could be prevented If e'en the most basic insights On stability were hinted! Then, should we dare to continue, 10 We would know what snares laid in store, And not be blinded by romance And idealism anymore. 398 Ere: before 138

More Heresies from Iyan Igma While You May Enjoy the rain while you may Before arthritis and joints conspire To pressure you into misery And set your weary limbs on fire. 5 Bathe your face in heaven's dew And dance amidst the angelic spittle While you are young and vital yet And your bones have not turned brittle. Splash in puddles and play in mud 10 Ere399 propriety robs this fun from you, And you become a boring grownup That disdains400 joy and says, "Pooh, pooh." Flesh out your childhood with memories That you may have wide smiles when old 15 Of dancing through the seasons When drizzles made the air grow cold. 399 Ere: before 400 Disdains: scorns; condemns; looks down upon 139

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Going Off to Dream I am going off to dream; Leave a message for my mind. Many worries roil and teem401, But I'm leaving them behind. 5 I can't say how long or where I'll go, nor where I'll sojourn402. I'll be untamed as the prayer The heart speaks but doesn't learn. If I don't return soon, I've 10 Died, gone to euphoria403, Fin'ly learned to be alive, And become an aria404. 401 Roil and teem: pretty much what water does when it is boiling 402 Sojourn: stay 403 Euphoria: a state of extreme happiness or hedonistic joy 404 Aria: light, peaceful classical music 140

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Who You Are 405 Te fuiste en pos de las mariposas, Pero yo me fui en pos de ti. Paraste a comerse unas frambuesas, Pero era del amor que yo comí. 5 Y el sabor y la belleza Que me atraen de ti son. Pues, aunque me encanta la naturaleza, Me has atrapado el corazón. Siempre serás a quien adoro 10 Porque tu sonrisa vale más que oro, Y aun cuando se mueren los flores Y se terminen todos amores, Mis sentimientos no vayan a cambiar Sólo a causa de who you are. 15 Y esto es mi promesa Dada de una noble corazón: Te daré todo lo que deseas. Sí, honraré cada dulce son Que tu suave voz hace vivir 20 Con la energía del mediodía Que causa mi alma a sentir Una gloriosa, bella alegría. Me fui en pos de una angelita Que me concedió el cielo 25 Cuando esta mujer tan querida Me concedió un sagrado beso. Mi vida terminó al instante, Y renací amarosamente Habiendo logrado lo mas importante— 30 A quien adoro eternamente. 405 This is in Spanish, see the translation section in the Author's Notes 141

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Worth Your Weight in Chocolate You're worth your weight in chocolate (And double that in cacao) Squared to infinity cubed For each second starting now 5 Off into eternity, How long I long406 you'll be mine, That's roughly the potency Of your love that I enshrine407. You flood me with chemicals 10 Like chocolate408, and are sweet, too, With just enough bitterness That I fully savour you. 406 Long: desire; want; yearn; pine 407 Enshrine: worship 408 Flood...chemicals: large amounts of chocolate release chemicals similar to those produced in the brain during intercourse 142

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Lover's API Excuse me, what's your API409? How shall I interact with you? What methods and structures should I use To make you do what I want you to do? 5 Tell me what your guidelines are. Are you well documented? What approach should I take that Your faults won't be segmented410? Must I use a special language 10 To harness your functionality? Have you an open and honest source? Are you changing constantly? 409 API: Application Programming Interface, a set of standards and instructions produced programmers can make an application perform tasks as they desire 410 Faults...segmented: Fault Segmentation is a fatal error often relating in Kernel Panics, application crashes, or the notorious BSODs (Blue Screen of Death) under Windows 143

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Weight Loss People go through so much trouble To avoid easy solutions, Turning themselves into rubble411, Victims of their persecutions. 5 Why do they worry with diets And worthless pills and vomiting (Meanwhile neglecting exercise,) When starving or food poisoning Are so much simpler weight loss routes, 10 Indeed, starvation is the oldest. Don't eat twice tasted Brussels sprouts,412 But make your diet the boldest. 411 rubble: broken remains of better things 412 Twice. . . sprouts: don't be Bulimic, ergo tasting your food coming and going 144

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Comfy Placenta The warm water sloshes slightly As I adjust in my cramped place, Unwilling to leave the security, Since I don't know what I shall face. 5 But something tells me I must go Beyond my comfy413 placenta,414 Since I control not even this; My domain is an irredenta415. The water pours forth, forcing me 10 Into a new birth violently. The “womb” and “tub” both end in "b" And let me live complacently416. 413 Comfy: [sic] comfortable 414 Placenta: the fluidfilled sac that babies spend the first 6 to 9 months in, which is later used to make women's makeup 415 Irredenta: a place that should belong to one person or power, but belongs to another 416 Complacently: happily 145

More Heresies from Iyan Igma On Demolishing Alarms You just can't beat an alarm clock, Save a hammer or stick's nearby. But that just hurts the hip pocket417, Where George and Benjamin418 wonder why 5 We would do such a foolish thing, Since time must be kept and noted? But then, there are no alarms Once you are dead and bloated. If we could just rise with the dawn 10 And sleep in the setting sun's night, We'd have no need for any alarms. A pox419 on incandescent lights420! Alarm clocks just can't be beaten, Although many a time I've tried! 15 But I'd prefer less to wake to church bells, Since I'd probably commit suicide (Joined by the rest of the town, Disturbed by having sound sleep's matters Perturbed by priests banging pans and pots 20 Upon their steep steeple ladders, Thinking they make sweet music, Though not even three year olds so clatter. ) Would to God my only alarm In sleep should be a full bladder! 417 Hip pocket: your wallet 418 George and Benjamin: George Washington and Benjamin Franklin, the faces on one and one hundred dollar bills, respectively. 419 A pox: plague or sickness. An expression meaning “Curse ... [whatever[“ 420 Incandescent lights: a source of great pollution which have caused our biological clocks to be skewed—regular light bulbs 146

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Bairn's Vast Energy Mothers rejoice we're not full grown When we call their small wombs our home; Trimesters421 and delivery'd Be more substantial misery. 5 But they do not see 'neath the skin That all their future gals and men Are spirits long before mature Who somehow manage to endure Being stuffed inside cheeky dwarves422— 10 Relieved when their small body morphs423 And gives them some more room to stretch So they have less cause to kvetch424. The spirit, being energy, The soul's source of vitality425, 15 Finds that its power's amplified When in a wee426 form it abides. Thus, kids have endless energy, Giving us nostalgic427 envy. 421 Trimesters: a pregnancy is divided into three period, each three months long, which a mother tries to get through 422 Cheeky dwarves: kids can be quite a handful, especially once they start talking 423 Morphs: changes 424 Kvetch: complain 425 Vitality: lifeforce 426 Wee: small 427 Nostalgic: pertaining to bittersweet memories of the past 147

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Hermits Hermits can be such simple friends, Low maintenance, and such godsends. Don't visit or call them on the phone, But simply leave them all alone. 5 Then, your friendship will have no end. 148

More Heresies from Iyan Igma ¡Aguas! Don't mind these scratches on my wrists; These grooves don't witness my intent. I swear I'm not suicidal, Nor have I ever been hellbent 5 To destroy myself or others; I've just been building computers. The metal edges can be quite rough, Oft presenting need for sutures428. But I don't mind, for they're like me— 10 Unpolished, so all should beware When handling me or circuit boards To use utmost caution and care. 428 Sutures: stitches 149

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lunar Cycle Love I'm trying to fill in the hole In my heart that shouldn't have been, Since your love should be brimming o'er The cardiac abyss's rim. 5 I should have waited till the moon Was full and ripe to fall in love So there'd be more'n enough to fill The gaping hole429 I stand above. 429 Moon. . . hole: if you dig a hole when the moon's full, you'll have more dirt than you need to fill the hole back in 150

More Heresies from Iyan Igma More Worthless Tin As gray strands infiltrate my hair And creases start to mark my skin And each year zips by much faster And I see my aged kith and kin, 5 I wonder like Ponce de Leon430 When his futile search he engaged, "Is there some kind of kind treatment For the malady431 of old age?" It sounds like a really nasty 10 Infirmity432 to suffer from. Each year thousands die from old age In the comfort of their own home. The golden years are filled up with More worthless tin than they admit; 15 I'm quite surprised the CDC 433 Warns not of this epidemic. 430 Ponce de Leon: the Conquistador who explored Florida looking for the Fountain of Youth only to return discouraged that Disney World had not been built yet. 431 Malady: affliction; disease 432 Infirmity: illness; problem 433 CDC: Centers for Disease Control, an American agency whose main purpose is to prevent epidemics and contain outbreaks 151

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pollinated Cars All around pollinated cars Skitter 'bout like mechanized bees, And my shoes are yellow coated Just like my shirt and dungarees. 5 It's as if I had walked a mile In the Arizona desert434, And I realize my admired bees Well know how my sinuses hurt, In fact suff'ring worse frustration 10 With insectile435 sinusitis436 Due to having a yellow and Condemnable dermatitis437. And to think we eat their mucous From when they suffer colds and flu, 15 Although we call it sweet honey, And what's worse is we like it, too! 434 Walked. . . desert: actually, you only have to step outside to be turned yellowbrown by dust in Arizona. Trust me. 435 Insectile: a bug's 436 Sinusitis: an infection of the sinuses that often results from dust or pollen entering them. The result is pain. Lots and lots of pain. 437 Dermatitis: a skin condition 152

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Incest's Stigma Incest is an atrocity438 In which no one should be involved, Especially since the puzzle Of exactly why has been solved. 5 Genes are not the foremost factor, Though it's true much harm can be done (Just look at any Southern state.) This risk's nothing compared to one: A brother and sister once wed 10 Cannot both go back running home Since divorce is at all time highs, As parents might have to disown439 One of their children, but which side? Russian roulette's more merciful. 15 E'en divorce between first cousins Would make reunions terrible. When marriage still held sanctity440 Before divorce was an issue, Adam and Noah's kids practiced 20 Incest, else we wouldn't have you. 438 Atrocity: horrible crime, like listening to country music or genocide 439 Disown: to announce disapproval and/or lack of love 440 Sanctity: holiness; respect 153

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Esquilo Na Vida Pasada I'm sure I should have been a squirrel Since we have a soft place for nuts. I can scarcely hoard441 them away Fast enough, because this land gluts 5 Itself with them. But they've no use For me, since I cannot gnaw on Them, since they're no real sustenance,442 And people would think my mind's gone. In a prior life I was a squirrel, 10 If not, explain this tendency. Being human now's punishment, For I'm doomed to collect crazies. 441 Hoard: store greedily 442 Sustenance: food 154

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Neelie Kroes Ah, Neelie Kroes, if you were Just some forty mere years younger And thought not "to love is to err" But "to love is to sate hunger,'443 5 And could possibly tolerate444 One as American as I, Hopelessly you'd infatuate445 My heart, and heaven would be nigh446. How you make the evil empire447 10 Pay through the nose has stole448 my heart. You'd be my heroine and fire— The sexiest women are smart449. 443 thought. . . hunger: I don't know her personal stance on love, it is merely a wish that she would think that it's okay to fall in love 444 tolerate: put up with 445 infatuate: to make fat with love, or should that say, “to swell with love?” 446 nigh: close by 447 evil empire: a certain closed source company that starts with an M and rhymes with icrosoft. 448 Stole: [sic] 449 sexiest. . . smart: It's true; there's nothing worse than a dumb woman, because no matter how beautiful she is, as soon as she opens her mouth, she ruins everything. (Unless you are a woman, then the opposite would hold true. [Unless you are dumb, in which case, you're still trying to figure out what dumb means, but can't help but think that it's a definite turn on.]) 155

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Juvenile Lobotomy He is exploring carefully, Knowing he must act to be blest450; Giving his own lobotomy451, He searches with vigor and zest. 5 He doesn't heed their vain452 protests Or learn from their bad examples453. His cilia's454 sweetly caressed; He savours his freshest samples. With what gusto and zeal he mines, 10 Looking for his golden treasures! I rejoice at finding such signs455 Life's lived best for simple pleasures. 450 act. . . blest: the adage is, “Faith precedes the miracle.” Just as when the Jordan River was crossed (on dry ground,) the priests had to take the first step into water. 451 lobotomy: when you tickle your brain and consequently have brain damage 452 vain: useless 453 their bad examples: they're setting bad examples by NOT picking their noses 454 Cilia: nasal hair 455 signs: signs that 156

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Like the Dickens When I was coming home today, I stopped to see the children play. They dressed up kittens Who ran like the dickens 5 Once they finally got away. 157

More Heresies from Iyan Igma If Her Dentures Weren't New My Granny likes to bite my nose; She says it tastes just like a rose. I'm sure she would chew If her dentures weren't new. 5 She fears what happens if it blows! 158

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Horse You can't make a horse drink water Despite all the cursing you do. Whipping and hobbling won't help aught456, But you can make him into glue. 456 Aught: at all 159

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Aaron Is So Stupid Aaron is so stupid He makes me pick my nose He makes my sister crosseyed He likes to kiss the hose 5 He dances in the lightning Wearing a tin foil hat He doesn't put on deodorant He wipes his arms with fat He likes to lick his elbow 10 When he is climbing trees And spit on little children Hanging upside down by his knees 160

More Heresies from Iyan Igma To Quote Bobby Expletives457 but show ignorance, No matter how great your disdain458. Show your linguistic incompetence, And you show how small is your brain. 5 'Tis finer far to belittle459 And see them wrack their mind in pain To just understand a little Of your comment. They'll go insane. How much better to crush esteem 10 And never once raise your cool voice! You'll find their pain's the sweetest dream, Since anger's no match for remorse460. "It's a poor man that only can Spell or say a word in one way."461 15 Fools can only insult a man With just a handful of clichés462. 457 Expletives: curse words 458 disdain: contempt; anger 459 belittle: disparage; demean; mock 460 remorse: sorrow 461 It's. . . way: to quote Bobby 462 clichés: overused words 161

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Rapist He gave me a penny for my thoughts, Though I paid him well for the session Just to stretch out on his leather couch Where I make the strangest confessions. 5 He prowled through my childhood memories To find fixations463 or obsessions, Finding none, he used electric shocks. Then, he tried hypnotic regressions. But none of my problems drifted off 10 Like dead skins cells from any phalange464. I can tell my soul to any friend, So paying to have one seems quite strange. He can change my bills but not myself, For only I can make myself change. 463 Fixations: points in our development where we have stagnated and thus have become mentally incomplete 464 Phalange: finger 162

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Brute Hedonism Ah, stomachs, give me cud465 to chew After eating wild herbs all day. Bless the trough466 and salt lick That the farmer has sent this way. 5 The days are pretty; when they're not I have a warm and cozy stall. A cow's life's brute hedonism467— Rest, food, and no worries at all. 465 Cud: partially digested food 466 Trough: the water container cows drink from 467 Hedonism: to live for pleasure 163

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Every Soothing Iniquity With sin and darkness as my bedfellows I rested troublefree and calm, And every soothing iniquity Was my soul's own healing balm. 5 With Satan as my comrade, I had such faithful company. My heart was ne'er sorrowed nor sad, And I faced life courageously. But when I tried to lie in faith 10 Amidst such Christian company, My face grew long and my heart wan468, And there was naught469 to comfort me. 468 Wan: pale (and weak) 469 Naught: nothing 164

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Your Sweetest Taboo Their prevailing accusations Were of temptations I ne'er knew. I never entertained the thought, For such evils I did eschew470. 5 But long and hard they accused me, Believing their railings471 were true, And after a while, I gave in To embrace your sweetest taboo472. And now I only wonder how 10 I e'er lived and loved without you? Their accusations are fulfilled; Now there's nothing I'd rather do. 470 Eschew: avoid; forbid myself 471 Railings: fervent accusations 472 Taboo: an unacceptable or forbidden thing 165

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Flings Before So often I have loved only To come to473 or come to harm When tragic'ly I chance to see My “one true love” on another's arm. 5 But I never doubt how I feel, For I know each time “love” must be real, But what have been all these flings before, Since I met you in the store? You're without morals and modesty. 10 My “love” for you all can see. Surely you'd never break my heart, Since you've had something else from the start. Ah, to love as a teen or puppy, To be a stupid, naïve guppy, 15 And think such “true loves” are real, When hormones474 cloud how you feel! 473 Come to: wake up, especially after losing consciousness from fainting, etc. 474 Hormones: funny chemicals that make teenagers (and adults) do the craziest things and experience the most inane feelings 166

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Romanticism Garden Variety Guy My life is unrequited475 love; I've learned to suppress476 what I feel, Since it would be quite unheard of For God to grant me love that's real. 5 He's made me so complicated, But made no woman just as strange, And so affection's frustrated, And I don't expect it will change. Misery has become my life 10 When just a pillow's a soul mate. Is there for me no perfect wife Who can completely stimulate? No woman could me comprehend. So e'en before its beginning, 15 Love has always come to an end, Though my heart continues spinning. No garden variety guy Am I, though there's none the wiser That I count happiness a lie, 20 Since it is just fertilizer477. I need some tender loving care That two skillful hands can render With water, pruning, sun, and air. But reality will hinder478 25 This possibility, since I 475 Unrequited: unanswered, lonely, onesided, not mutual 476 Suppress: hide; block out; ignore 477 Fertilizer: originally fertilizer was manure 478 Hinder: get in the way; impede; block 167

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Can only hope in fantasy, And so, until the day I die I'll be unfulfilled and lonely. 168

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Burning Beauty Across the Sky O Love, you fickle479 meteor Burning beauty across the sky, Tempting my heart with amazement, Though you know you'll soon die! 5 I wish upon you to stay, But in an instant you're gone. I see the remnants of your trail; The night and I, we are alone. I'm the one who's consumed, 10 Though you have ceased to be. Why wish upon another when It won't bring you back to me? 479 Fickle: not constant; ever changing; temporary; fleeting; feminine 169

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Sweetest Salve I feel almost like your stalker; I'm obsessed because I love you. But there is one key difference, I know that I can never have you, 5 Because I'm not worthy of you. I sit imagining your voice, Your foibles480—the final details— That God had crafted there by choice, And I cry, knowing you'd have dragged 10 Me by my collar to heaven. But I have naught481 to offer you, And there's naught that I have given To merit you. What's faithfulness And cherishing eternally, 15 When compared to my horribly Corroded mess spiritually? And so, I'm hopelessly in love With you for aye482, though you'll ne'er know, Because I can never express 20 My true emotions for fear. So, If the past years have been a clue, I'll languish483, battling depression That would have me do foolish things With its powerful suggestion. 25 Though I'll have not your heart, may it Have all that I'd want you to have. May it be spoiled in love alway, 480 foibles: weaknesses; frailties 481 naught: nothing 482 for aye: for ever 483 languish: waste away 170

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And that would be the sweetest salve484 For me, since that alone'd atone485 30 For the suffering that I feel Without you, but always with you, And beside you each time you kneel. 484 salve: an ointment used for healing purposes 485 atone: make up for 171

More Heresies from Iyan Igma El Zancudo y Tú The mosquito lands on my arm, And I am stuck inside a trance, Watching it pump away my blood With quite the indifferent486 glance. 5 It just barely stings where it bites, Sparing most axons and dendrites487. My hair follicles488 are barely Disturbed by her small legs and wings. Mesmerized489, I watch her swell up, 10 Feasting upon my useless things. Why should I bother to slap it? How would its death benefit me? At least my essence490 can do aught Of worth and make some pest happy. 15 It's just my nature to donate, And the whole world is my donee491. I am ground to dust and hated; There'll be more in eternity. Why can't you just sting a little? 20 Why can't you even let me drown? Do you have to suffocate me? Must I have a nervous breakdown? Is this the way you're satisfied That you've done your job as a wife? 25 Must I be a complete failure For you to be happy in life? 486 Indifferent: unfeeling; uncaring 487 Axons and dendrites: portions of nerves, used here to represent the pain receptors 488 Follicles: a small sac in the skin where hair roots are anchored down 489 Mesmerized: entranced; hypnotized 490 Essence: blood; lifeforce 491 Donee: one who receives donated money 172

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Why can't you make up your mind and Leave me for him/leave me alone? Must I be manipulated, 30 Your false love's sacrificial pawn492? 492 Pawn: the least significant chess piece 173

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Helenic I've hidden the growing tension Well for years beneath the façade493, Seeming as still as mountain lakes Which reflect the patience of God, 5 Thereby making you all believe That my fire within was dormant. But recently cracks have been seen, And tremors have become clamant494. With the way that it builds and builds, 10 I'm sure to go Mt. St. Helen's495. Then, you'll fin'ly know my sorrow, When brimstone's grave graveolence496 And molten ire497 rain upon you. When the destructive force within 15 Is shown tomorrow or later, I'll be a crater of a man. 493 Façade: fake appearance 494 Clamant: loud; quite noticeable 495 Go Mt. St. Helen's: erupt with massive force 496 Graveolence: stench 497 Ire: wrath; anger 174

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Paradise Riven We needed no heater When our marriage was young, For love was our warming fire, And the air was sweeter 5 When it filled either lung. Why did we let it expire498? They say that love is blind, And truly I ne'er saw Your many frailties499. Instead, 10 All that my eyes could find Was sweetness and pure awe. Then, why should our love be dead? I could almost eat off of love, And it had the sweetest savour. 15 Love was such a glorious feast! Fallen like fruit from high above, It has the most rancid500 flavour; You sup like a vulturous beast. To love was to be in heaven, 20 And I worshipped you on your dais501. I was an Adam who ne'er fell. But now paradise is riven502, And I have been exiled to lies. Only Adam knows of my Hell! 498 Expire: perish; die 499 Frailties: weaknesses 500 Rancid: rotten; spoiled 501 Dais: a throne, pedestal, or elevated place of power 502 Riven: split in two; destroyed 175

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Scorching Epiphanies In the falling brimstone embers Of the Sodom503 that is my heart, My mind vividly remembers How naïve504 I was at the start. 5 Memory sears505 more intensely Than flesh and bone could ever stand, For it sees me kneeling densely506 At an altar taking your hand. Mem'ry replays the tragedy 10 Neither Shakespeare nor Sophocles507 Would durst have e'er written. Wryly, I count scorching epiphanies508 That tell me where I went astray509, And straight into my destruction. 15 My ideals all have melted away, Destroyed by false love's seduction. My reputation and my friends Were not so fortunate as Lot510. I claw at my eyes with my hands, 20 Wishing I and my mind were not. 503 Sodom: a city that God destroyed with brimstone because of its complete wickedness. See Genesis 504 Naïve: innocent 505 Sears: burns 506 Densely: stupidly 507 Shakespeare. . . Sophocles: great playwrights famous for English and Greek tragedies, respectively. 508 Epiphanies: moments of awareness when we shout “Eureka!” in our bathtubs. 509 Went astray: erred; fell into sin 510 Fortunate as Lot: Lot and his two daughters were the only ones to escape Sodom. 176

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Paedomisia My little world condemned me When I wrestled for my divorce, And never understood me, As if I were speaking Norse511. 5 They thought the worst of me, Since divorce is strictly taboo. Surely it must be for adultery, Not for a mistake I would undo. They were so disappointed in me, 10 For it's a crime that I should smile And regain some selfrespect since Marriage had made me a paedophile In the sense I was babysitting An immature and naïve lass. 15 But my conscience bested me, And iniquitous512 days have passed. We thought on two diff'rent planes513; Her maturity was prepubescent514. I learned, sadly, age doesn't reflect 20 When womanhood is evanescent515. So those who never knew that I had been utterly deceived By her and pressured into wedding Young due to the lies I believed 25 Have no right to judge me, Though those are the ones who will. Most Mormons make poor friends, 511 Norse: an old Scandinavian tongue 512 Iniquitous: sinning 513 Planes: levels 514 Prepubescent: childish 515 Evanescent: able to disappear like a small puff of smoke 177

More Heresies from Iyan Igma While the “Gentiles516” love me still. 516 Gentiles: nonMormons 178

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Materialism in Perspective I have truly lost everything Attempting to try to please you. And after all that I gave up, Ironically I still lost you. 5 What were all these possessions lost, When I ne'er had anything else? They were only impurities To be consumed where my life smelts517. They were nothing, since I ne'er had 10 The love and honesty I sought. They just point at how life would be If I had flowed with it, not fought. They're things that cannot satisfy, Like any want money fulfills. 16 To lack love makes life a sickness, And things are placebo518 pills. 517 Smelts: smelting is the process of heating impurities out of iron ore 518 Placebo: sugar or empty pills given to patients to induce a psychological effect of feeling better 179

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Love's Martyr I starve, though food's in the pantry And there's victuals519 in the fridge. But everything that's edible520 Is as sustaining as a midge521. 5 I have a need food can't fulfill, Despite how much chocolate I'd eat. I see myself wasting away Like morale522 when armies retreat. There's no one that could give me love 10 Or who'd be content to barter523. I'd gladly give my heart away If I could just be love's martyr. 519 Victuals: food 520 Edible: able to be eaten without killing you, which, by definition, excludes the cooking of several people I know 521 Midge: minuscule flies that have the audacity to bite larger creatures. Jerks. 522 Morale: spirits or enthusiasm 523 Barter: trade without using money 180

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Since Your Decision Was Resolute You've planted your row, go hoe it, And may weeds and thorns crowd your way And tangle around your stupid calves And bite deep into your flesh each day. 5 May the sun scorch your skin to a crisp And give you wrinkles and squinty eyes. May rashes cover your arms and chest And perpetually524 sweaty thighs. May mosquitoes and gnats afflict your ears, 10 Fly up your nose, and matte your eyes. May you ever smell just like the manure Which attracts your tormenting flies. May the rain stop pouring on your fields But nourish your neighbors around. 15 May the tongue stick to your palate525 And naught526 to drink be found. May grasshoppers devour your harvest Ere527 you have picked the first fruit. May your pesticides give you cancer, 20 Since your decision was resolute. May you always think back on scorning me And look what was then laid in store. May you wither away like your crops And be miserable ever more. 524 Perpetually: forever; always 525 Palate: not a misspelling of palace. Instead, it is the top of the mouth, which might find itself inconvenienced at times when substances such as peanut butter cause the tongue to become seemingly glued to it. 526 Naught: nothing 527 Ere: before 181

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Gorgon Tears I won't give in to your tears this time; Their acid rolls slickly off my hide Because you have turned my heart into stone, Thereby petrifying528 it with pride. 5 I look past your damp, distraught visage 529 And see the fiend that you are beneath. Your tears and moans cannot freeze my feet Nor stay this sword that's drawn from its sheath. 'Twill pierce your multiserpented breast 10 Harb'ring the venomous love you give; Then, I'll seek out a sincere damsel And forget about your horrors blive530. 528 Petrifying: turning into stone 529 Visage: face 530 Blive: quickly 182

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Poetic Justice You made me cry all of these years, But now it's your turn to cry. My spirit is resurrected, Now that your broken one can die. 5 You made the biggest fool of me, But now 'tis you who play the dunce. I shall move on free like the wind, And you can languish531 on for months. 531 Languish: suffer 183

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Make Canis Majoris Dim Just wait until I shine again, Then you can't bear to see The hypergiant532 your black hole Tried to snuff533 stealthily. 5 I never saw how dark you were When you were drawing near, Until I saw that light could not Escape your foul void's sphere. Shine as I might, it was no use; 10 You're sucking life from me. That's how I gauged534 your dark matter, Which not e'en you can see. Oh, bless the vector535 that saved me From the clutches of death. 15 I'll make Canis Majoris536 dim, Illuming537 heaven's breath. I'll prove you're insignificant: 'Twas you who needed me. I can create heat and brilliance, 20 But you can only feed. 532 Hypergiant: the largest (and brightest) class of stars 533 Snuff: extinguish or kill, but in this case not with tobaccobased snuff 534 Gauged: measured 535 Vector: an outside force or influence 536 Canis Majoris: the largest known hypergiant, though you better go ahead and watch it now, since it won't be around forever. 537 Illuming: illuminating 184

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Unfettered and Unbound You ask yourself how could this be? How could I love her more than you? What could I want but your beauty? And what about your sweetness, too? 5 But you will never see how empty This thing that you call love has been. You were just suffocating me. You are childish chaos; she's zen538. You will never be so mature— 10 And that's where real beauty is found. My love for her will e'er endure Being unfettered and unbound. Never have been forged stronger bonds Than those of true love's liberty. 15 Trust is magical, but no wands Can create such security. I love her from eternity— From my soul's innermost, true core. She's everything you'll never be, 20 And a few million wonders more. 538 Zen: a calm and higher state of peace 185

More Heresies from Iyan Igma better to suicide oh muse539, guide my pen honestly let me write of love i'll ne'er have who is content to not have me so i'll suffer on her behalf 5 trying to find her where she hides fearing love's realization dame, hiding but hurts your chances of love, ensuring stagnation should some poor fool like me love you 10 'twould be better to suicide rather than tire of your antics 540 you're obstinate, consumed in pride oh, give me a well of patience and its twin endless abyss of 15 emotional security to defend my much battered love 539 Muse: source of inspiration 540 Antics: silly ways 186

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Not My Nothingness The greatest show of irony That God continually displays Is shown through how He tortures me With passion all my lonely days. 5 He knows the heart I have desires Requited541 love with intellect And the maturity of sires— But He always tells me, "Not yet." And so I see the visions pass 10 But millimeters from my grasp; They fade, searing my heart. Alas! I know 'tis vain, but say, "Perhaps. Perhaps this time she'll recognize My love and not my nothingness 15 And might see my heart in my eyes And give my soul a sweet caress. Perhaps, when I expose my soul, She won't leave any more deep wounds, But take my life in her control, 20 Able to read my spirit's runes. Perhaps she won't be frightened or Apathetic542 to my passions Like ghosts543 I've tried to grasp before. Perhaps, after my strange fashion, 25 I might fin'ly come to know bliss, And my soul can be put at ease." But I can never believe this, Not even about you, for He's 541 Requited: returned; mutual 542 Apathetic: indifferent; uncaring; unfeeling 543 Ghosts: intangible women that crushes have been had on 187

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Told me the worst thing I've heard of 30 That rends544 my mangled soul in half: You're just the friend I love— The heaven I can never have. And though I know that we can't be, I can't help but offer my heart— 35 You're the greatest blessing to me, And I have loved you from the start. I'll take all the pain and torment And scarring that you'll give to me, Hoping omniscience545 I can foil546. 40 I shall love you eternally. What life would I have without you? I'll ne'er entertain love again. To your memory I'll be true— Ever wracked by your parting pain. 544 Rends: tears 545 Omniscience: the state of knowing everything. It gets pretty dull at times. Trust me. 546 Foil: beat; disappoint 188

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Muito Obrigado If that's all I ever am to you, Someone to make you feel happy and young, Trust me, it's worth each millisecond— You make me feel alive and unstrung. 5 And if I was just a good friend to Lean on and lift you out of this mess; Thank you, you touched my compassionate Heart and have snatched me out of distress. If I was destined to be no one, 10 Well, I know now that can never be, Because in your simple words and care, You truly made someone out of me. 189

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Grieve Not the Harvests Past I've gone off to sow my wild oats And seen them flourish into trees, And seeds that I thought were blighted547 Mock me without disease. 5 While the germ548 in certainty Of fruit I had planted long hence Withered and died giving me naught But the wryness549 of hardearned sense. But look the trees in pleasure sown 10 And with sensual nurture grown Pray, "Prithee, why tarried you so long, Like cyclones long absent Hong Kong550? Your green thumb could have been employed And in boundless growth been overjoyed. 15 Your planter's pure morality Almost cost you my vitality551." The past's not gone; it never was, And the future will never be. Right now's the only time to live: 20 Time's the best joke played on humanity. So I'll grieve not the harvests past When wild oats weren't germinated. Your taste proves you delectable, And at last my palate552 will be sated. 547 Blighted: cursed and diseased 548 Germ: seed 549 Wryness: bitterness 550 Cyclones. . .Kong: from what I'm told, major ones hit rarely 551 Vitality: life force; energy 552 Palate: taste, or rather, the tastes that one craves 190

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Bathsheba O Bathsheba553, How I loved thee! Your pleasures bathing in my view Could do little but engross554 me And make me long555 to be with you. 5 I bade556 you grant me audience557 As a shepherd boy would a queen, And while spirits slept in silence We made a memorable scene. Though my covenants558 are broken, 10 Our moment is sacred to me. And let this serve as a token Of our future matrimony: No matter the toil and heartache That will befall us as we live, 15 I love you, and that's what it takes, E'en should Solomon you not give. 553 Bathsheba: the wife of Uriah who bathed on her rooftop where King David would see her. After David and Bathsheba committed adultery, he later had her husband killed and married her. They lost several children, but ultimately had Solomon. 554 Engross: entertain; capture the attention 555 Long: want; desire 556 Bade: despite popular opinion, bade does not mean “bad” in the past tense. Instead, it means “requested, supplicated, implored, or asked for.” 557 Grant. . . audience: to be allowed to talk to a sovereign. 558 Covenants: sacred promises between God and man 191

More Heresies from Iyan Igma By Your Pleasured Smile For this treasured moment you are mine. I can tell by your pleasured smile And how happy cheeks glow and shine. Will you still love me after a while? 5 When you wake up in the fair morning, Will the world be bathed in beauty? Will this smile still be adorning The visage559 that's worth more than booty560? Right now I can pose561 any question, 10 And I'll hear the correct reply Escape the lips of perfection, Such words sweeter than a lullaby! How sweet it is when we're truly one, Enveloped562 in a wave of love, 15 And you're radiant as the sun And heaven's come to earth from above. 559 Visage: face 560 Booty: spoils and loot 561 Pose: ask 562 Enveloped: wrapped up in; surrounded by 192

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Wenugichasum Wenugichasum, my lush squaw563, You are so beautiful to me With your straight hair dark and down And smooth skin so coppery. 5 Wenugichasum, your joy's clear. No scowl mars your face; you're not smug. You're the light of my wigwam564; Spring thaws you when we kiss and hug. Wenugichasum, you blessing 10 Who the Great Spirit has sent to me, You sustain me more than the three Sisters565; you make a brave566 of me. 563 Squaw: female Native American 564 Wigwam: type of housing 565 Three Sisters: the staple of Iroquois life—corn, beans, and squash 566 Brave: warrior; man 193

More Heresies from Iyan Igma naked always if you could stay naked always and be wrapped tightly around me and let our sacred union reveal your covert567 geniality568 5 that you might say the right things without uttering any words and make a song more rousing569 than a chorus of morning birds or even just lie still in sleep 10 shunning the mask of lies you gird570 because you fear openness and think sincerity's absurd571 your skin a damp cloth to my fever your eyes a beacon's saving light 15 your breast and mind rendered pure and your company sheer delight then i would be lacking nothing having an angel in an embrace enraptured by the sweetness 20 wild as druids572 on your face, for you would stay as pleasant as springtime's perfect days, but eventually you clothe yourself with cloth and demeanor's malaise573 567 Covert: hidden; secret 568 Geniality: good, gentle, and sympathetic temperament 569 Rousing: stirring 570 Gird: put on; wear 571 Absurd: foolish 572 Druids: preChristian Celtic pagans that had strong ties to nature. Their most famous relic is Stonehenge 573 Malaise: illness 194

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Feeble With Strong Rapport You really should've been my ex— Then, we'd ne'er have separated, For love is more than work and sex And things, which are overrated. 5 You could have spared me all the grief Of each day's weary frustration, Because your friendship's my relief; It thrives on communication. What else could be of more import, 10 Since beauty, health, and strength will fade? Though feeble, we'd have strong rapport574; To age with you I'm not afraid. 574 Rapport: a relationship or bond 195

More Heresies from Iyan Igma El Vicio de Amor I don't smoke or drink or bite my nails, Huff 575fumes, or sniff paint or glue. I'm not a glutton576 for junk food or snails577, Nor do I sleep soundly the whole day through. 5 I avoid drugs as if they are a plague, And I don't even gamble with my life. I don't call in sick for fauxague578; My words don't bludgeon579 or cut like a knife. I'm known for my valor580 and sincerity, 10 For being selfless and full of virtue. I'm not full of lust or venality581. In fact, my only vice is loving you. For everyone honestly seems to think (As if they honestly thought I cared) 15 That you have caused my brain to shrink, And I'm intoxicated, crazed, and impaired. 575 Huff: how inhalants are abused 576 Glutton: one who delights in overabundant consumption 577 Snails: escargot; here representing gourmet food 578 Fauxague: fake illnesses 579 Bludgeon: bash or club 580 Valor: courage 581 Venality: the ability to be bribed 196

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Just Ordinary Sers Why are we so high profile; We're just ordinary sers582? Yet every mother and their body Is fascinated by our affairs. 5 They meddle583 with their noses brown And let their protests fill the air, Somehow thinking we must please them, Trying to poison us with care. Are they truly so unhappy 10 That they could never bear to see Two people love devotedly? What jealous immorality! I'll heed them not like stimuli584 That want to overwhelm my brain. 15 I don't impose585 on them standards, Though I find their mores586 insane. For there's only one that I should please, Besides myself, and that is you. It's funny I can be happy 20 When I make you rejoice, it's true. So let their idle prattle587 Sail away without gravity. The more they try to separate, The closer I will hold to thee. 582 Sers: beings (Spanish) 583 Meddle: a word here used to described how bothersome people get involved in other people's business when they should really tend to their own sad lives 584 Stimuli: the events and changes all around that our senses detect constantly 585 Impose: force 586 Mores: social morals 587 Prattle: flapping of the tongue; worthless, babbling nonsense 197

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And For Dulcinea let me find out for myself if she's bad for me please don't interfere again even should misery 5 await me like an angry mob dragging me to the guillotine588 just be a grandmother quilting at the gruesome scene who wants a little of my blood 10 to speckle her as my head falls589. i can't listen to your advice, for love awaits and duty calls. like a hero I must rush in my sword flashing with derringdo; 15 maybe I'll be victorious just bid me luck and sad adieu590. Sancho Panza591, you can't save me, and there is no panacea592 to prevent me fighting windmills593 20 for love and for Dulcinea594. 588 guillotine: a very effective means of fixing government corruption developed in France. This machine consists of a large, suspended blade that chops off a person's head once dropped. Not for children under three or safe to fall into the wrong hands. 589 wants...falls: it was good luck for the beheaded's blood to land upon you 590 Adieu: goodbye 591 Sancho Panza: Don Quixote's sidekick who tried to keep the senile old man out of harm, though he failed miserably 592 Panacea: cureall miracle drug, though opium once came close 593 Fighting windmills: Don Quixote fought windmills thinking that they were giants. Needless to say, he lost 594 Dulcinea: Don Quixote's fair maiden, who, if I remember correctly, was a wench 198

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Blinks a little distance and a short time are blinks of an eternal eyelid and the current anguish of parting will immediately be hid 5 this is the sacrifice we must make, a test to see how long we'll last, the future is full of more of them waiting for the present one to pass. if you wait on me, then until then, 10 and we shall our love renew, but if you're gone when i get back home, then i wish the best for you. there are billions more in this world, but don't think i'll find another. 15 a soul is born to just one mum and the heart has but one true lover. though i go that we might grow, i have already begun to miss the sweetness of love we cherish, 20 the soul's hyperbolic595 bliss. 595 Hyperbolic: exaggerated 199

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Our Paths Tend to Diverge If I should venture off this way To pursue my dreams and career And keep in contact the whole while, Will love's fire still be kindling596 here? 5 Every path that I can pursue To ensure that our souls can merge Seems destined to terminate597 us. Why do our paths tend to diverge598? Love, how can I follow my heart, 10 When doing so leads me away? I don't wish to sound insecure, But distance oft makes love decay. 596 Kindling: burning 597 Terminate: end 598 Diverge: split up; spread apart 200

More Heresies from Iyan Igma To Coax Me from the Bush Though you said you would let me fly Like a bird whose clipped wings have healed To taste the clouds and feel the wind And let my chirping be fulfilled, 5 I've found the truth is far removed Like a mirage599 I cannot reach, And all my fluttering's useless And my chirps have become a screech. You smile to see my spirit die, 10 Holding me fast with your gloved hand. You lied to coax600 me from the bush, And I'm your captive, as you planned. 599 Mirage: an illusion seen in the desert when one is dehydrated and suffering from exposure to the sun; having chased a mirage before, I do not personally recommend it. 600 Coax: persuade 201

More Heresies from Iyan Igma When No One Can See The lamps are out and your knock comes, You stand with coat obscuring601 face. I open the door; you glance 'round, Hoping you weren't seen in this place. 5 You tell me with the lights down low That you love me with all your heart, But leave me before the dawn comes So that none would think you a tart602. You pass me by in the public, 10 Not even bothering to smile. I know should I give affection, That you would be moved603 with denial. Later your knock would come again, And you'd apologize to me, 15 Trying to explain how it is You love me when no one can see. 601 Obscuring: blocking out 602 Tart: a woman with loose scruples who might just be as sweet as the eponymous pastry; harlot 603 Moved: vocal and fervent; adamant; vehement 202

More Heresies from Iyan Igma What Easy Lies What easy lies do you tell me now, While emotion is clouding my mind And any words that you would profess Seem as from an oracle604 divine? 5 And how much of you can I believe While love's naïve idealism blinds When you profess your undying love As our bodies now lie intertwined? Will you leave me when the night is through, 10 Having found what you had sought and more, Content to have used me willingly Since you're the one person I adore? 604 Oracle: mouthpiece or messenger of a god 203

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ficklety Oh, how fickle605 is a woman Who never knows what she desires! The love she gives in some moments In other times makes her a liar. 5 She thinks with changing emotions, But then wonders why I'm leery606 Of opening myself to her, Since she can't see that I'm weary607 Of playing what she has made games, 10 Not treating love seriously. And the irony of it all Is she thinks the fickle608 one is me. 605 Fickle: unconstant; changing; feminine 606 Leery: cautious; afraid 607 Weary: tired 608 Fickle: immature; changing; inconstant; undecided 204

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Meaningless Butterfly Atop Maybe, if I were a sunflower With a worthless little bee Or a meaningless butterfly atop, You might finally care for me. 5 Maybe, if I were a tulip Or a Lotus's lush blossom, You might finally look at me And quit playing 'possum609. Maybe, if I were a daisy 10 Or a prolific610 knockout rose, You'd see an everlasting Soul's love under your nose. 609 Playing 'possum: pretending to be asleep 610 Prolific: very productive 205

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Dead Joy Your eyes are as profound as lies And just as hard to maintain. Something within me surely dies; We can never be the same. 5 Irresistible as mayo611, You're as healthy for me, too, In the realms of Galileo 612 A star now burns thanks to you, For you took all the light from me 10 (Loving you was my worst gaffe613) When you coldly killed the only Child that I was like to have. Now you expect me to forgive Murder done without consent 15 To half of me that now should live, Being fully innocent? What's worse, you expect my love still, Though you know how much I've longed To have what you thoughtlessly killed; 20 Your heart has never belonged To me, and neither will the child. Go, leave me before I destroy You, for my emotions run wild, Seeking vengeance for dead joy. 611 Mayo: mayonnaise, not May. Boy does it taste great. 100 calories, 100 from fat! 612 Realms of Galileo: heavens; stars 613 Gaffe: mistake 206

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Self Mutilation Oh, that there were a hole profound614 Enough to hide all of my sins, Guilt, and pain of this unnat'ral Murder615 that I've done to my skin, 5 Where I lie dying, having slain Myself by hurting you with the Casual, seeping sarcasm That comes from somewhere inside me, The poison of my weak moments, 10 For you are tender, and I'm brash616 And unfeeling, save when my soul's Rent617 in twain618 by such massive force, Causing tears to well up from the Great deeps where they've hidden for fear 15 Of discovery. There's so much That I've shared only with you, dear, And yet I feel that now you'll share No more with me, and it's my fault. Would that I could cut out my tongue 20 And lock it in a granite vault! What could I miss as much as you? You have been my firm foundation. I've found it true that hurting you's Only gross selfmutilation. 614 Profound: deep 615 Unnat'ral murder: to kill oneself or a family member 616 Brash: hasty; given to moments of emotion that cause future regret 617 Rent: split; divided 618 In twain: in two (parts) 207

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Lack Thereof You were my only chance of happiness, And I destroyed you in one moment's tick. My body's full of anguish619 and coldness Because my damned spirit's sick. 5 I will never be able to forgive Myself for the horror that has occurred, Slaying the very love that made me live With such a weapon as a simple word. I wonder how I shall continue on 10 With my soul festering620 and without love, Since, for my stupidity you are gone, And my soul's abyss621 feels the lack thereof? 619 Anguish: intense pain 620 Festering: wounded and developing pus and gangrene and other pleasant things. 621 Abyss: dark and endless pit 208

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Useless Reciprocation All the love you give me's useless, Though I can't expect you to see That what you feel can't bring me joy. Instead it causes misery. 5 All of your reciprocation Is wasted on a useless me, For all I crave's to give my dead love Like a bier622 drifting out to sea. I'm accustomed to watch it sail 10 Undisturbed, receiving cloture 623 And joy in the dirgeesque624 farewells Bade625 from my heart's void626 enclosure627. But you have made the deceased live, Not seeing it as a zombie. 15 I'm clueless what to do next when Someone so thrusts their love on me. Just take my love and run away, For I'm completely unprepared To receive, for I loathe628 myself 20 And am romantic'ly impaired. 622 Bier: a rack on which a corpse is lain 623 Cloture: a sense of relief and completeness 624 Dirgeesque: like a funeral song 625 Bade: offered 626 Void: empty 627 Enclosure: space; sealed chamber 628 Loathe: dislike 209

More Heresies from Iyan Igma As Nebuchadnezzar O, that I were just an ass629 Eating the wild grass in the fields And that all my tragic flaws and Weaknesses to you weren't revealed! 5 To be as Nebuchadnezzar630 Without sense and senseless love, too! But I am a star crossed lover, Wishing to die ere631 losing you. I'd lief632 take leave of my senses 10 And survive by my raw instinct, Than feel our love's bonds be severed; Your love and life to me are linked. I'd rather spend those seven years And another seventytwo,633 15 Rather than being rational, Perpetually missing you. 629 Ass: donkey 630 Nebuchadnezzar: Babylonian king who was smitten with insanity and lived in the fields for seven years eating grass, believing he was a donkey. 631 Ere: before 632 Lief: gladly 633 Seventytwo: the lifetime of man, purportedly 210

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Cardiologist I thought you a cardiologist, Trusting your opinion from the start, Letting you cut in two my sternum634 And cut my vital rib cage apart. 5 You clamped my veins and my arteries To give a bypass because they're blocked. You cut out my heart for a transplant, Saying the old one was sick and pocked. You left me something rotten instead 10 Which has brought me to a tragic end. You took my heart full of love for you, And then just wanted to be my friend. 634 Sternum: the bone connecting the rib cage, which protects the chest 211

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Of the Passion That Once Was Ours How do you think we could be friends After such moments as we've shared? That would be a torture that the Inquisition635 would not have dared 5 To employ, for it has mercy. Imagine us meeting as friends Talking calmly while depriving Your body's lush touch from my hands. And you would laugh while I would think 10 Of the moans you made bathed in sweat, And try as I might to pretend, Fiery eyes won't let me forget. Me? Content? While you're behind glass And I'm behind electric bars, 15 A cell made of my emotions, Of the passion that once was ours? 635 Inquisition: a bright spot in the history of Spain when, if you had the good fortune to be a Jew, Muslim, or non conformist to the Roman Catholic Church, you were tortured and killed 212

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Having Whet Curiosity You tried to free me long ago, Though you're the one who wanted free Of our young relationship's ties, Having whet curiosity. 5 So why is it I persevered Struggling tooth and nail to maintain What mattered more than all to me, When I knew it would be in vain? I should have been content to cry 10 And spend those weary nights alone, Instead of brooking far more hurt, Progressing more to find you gone. 213

More Heresies from Iyan Igma From Pearl to Powder You should have had some selfcontrol, Since I cannot help how I feel. You should have never received my love, If you can't give me love that's real. 5 You should have saved what selfrespect Has survived in my heart's cloister636, And not crushed that pearl to powder, Since giving it pained the oyster. You shouldn't have made me feel like 10 Some old insignificant toy. You should've let me stay a man, And not made me a frightened boy. Now all I see is misery, Once tempted by your false love's joy. 636 Cloister: chambers; room 214

More Heresies from Iyan Igma One Precious Songbird And now it is complete because Losing you, I have lost it all. At terminal velocity Jagged rocks have broken my fall. 5 My mind I lost long before when I entrusted to you my heart With full faith and fidelity. Would637 I knew better from the start! But you have gone to sample more; 10 Was my love just not good enough? Or do you want to see me cry? Does hurting me make you feel tough? Or maybe, well, I dread to think That you want me to be jealous, 15 Delighting in my reactions, Curious if my love's zealous. All the while ne'er understanding That for me to feel jealousy I'd need the selfworth lacked since birth. 20 I've just waited for you to see All along that I am nothing. I can't blame you for moving on, For it makes perfect sense to me To find out that you're haply gone. 25 So, in lieu638 of the jealousy, I only feel hurt and betrayal Because of the soul I gave you And vigorous promises made. You've no idea what you desire; 30 When you find out, I'll be alone. 637 Would: I wish 638 In lieu: instead 215

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My heart an empty, rusted cage Whose one precious songbird has flown. Please don't play with my emotions, Since I've been honest and sincere; 35 Please grant me this one pity, if E'er my friendship and love were dear. 216

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pity Other Men I told you at the onset While we considered love's fancy639, Which oft makes Russian Roulette 640 Seem safe since it's not as chancy, 5 That “we could craft a story More fulfilling than any dream, Tasting what pleasures entice, Not imagining how they'd seem. We could be intimate friends, 10 Sharing passion throughout our days, But if we were not to be, We could respect our parting ways. But above all, ere641 Eros 642 Even nocks his arrow and aims, 15 Understand me when I say That I will not brook643 any games.” You assented644 eagerly, But your honour's shown through since then. Why do hurt me, starve me, 20 And make me pity other men? 639 Fancy: dream 640 Russian Roulette: a “game” which originated in Siberia due to cabin fever. It is played by putting one bullet in a revolver, spinning it, and then putting the gun to one's head and firing. If you live, you win. 641 Ere: before 642 Eros: also known as Cupid, the Greek god of love. Because he was severely mocked as a child by the other gods for being given such a girlie name, he takes vengeance on the world by shooting people and making them fall in lust. 643 Brook: tolerate 644 Assented: agreed 217

More Heresies from Iyan Igma In Intimate Moments Why did you whisper foolish things When pressed tightly to me in bed? That you loved me as I loved you, And the perfect kids we'd have bred, 5 And how it was we'd make it through The thorns of our rose garden path, Of a glorious life with you, Of all the happiness we'd have? Was all of that feigned emotion 10 And lies that sounded good right then In precious, intimate moments With my heart beating on your skin? Were you just trying to deceive My gullible trust which longs for 15 All of these proffered fruits, having Never wanted anything more? After all, you never tell me Those things unless in passion's throes, When I'm vuln'rable and open 20 And my drugged mind no logic knows. Perhaps because I fantasize That perhaps at last I've found The love I've looked for all my life Who makes my happiness abound, 25 I try to ignore all my doubts, Since I love you passionately, And tend to think that those were just Your inner feelings being free For once, but I will never know 30 Now, since we will never more be, And all that I want has become An impossible fantasy 218

More Heresies from Iyan Igma That once seemed as close to my grasp As your warm body in my arms 35 And the feelings of our love past, Which are now just remembered charms. 219

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Never Told I thought I knew you like a fact; Your flesh seemed real enough, at least. But you were imaginary, Although you wound worse than a beast. 5 You told me all that I inquired; I mistook your words for the truth And feel betrayed by grownup lies, Though it hurts worse now than in youth. You imagined you that loved me; 10 My mind was anxious to believe. How sacred the words and deeds shared... They're mortified645 to see you leave. And so now I sit and wonder How much else you never told me, 15 Using my gullibility646 To find joy momentarily. 645 Mortified: horrified 646 Gullibility: innocent tendency to believe whatever one is told 220

More Heresies from Iyan Igma As the Thornbirds To think that I have loved as The thornbirds on the vine647, Pure and sweet and passionate And utterly sublime, 5 Beyond the wildest senses Which I could never comprehend. But such intensity comes at a price, And my song is at an end. The thorn in my chest, I can't breathe; 10 So here I now die alone, My soul having such a love Beyond what could have been known. And I would take three thorns In my chest to feel again 15 The sweet intensity that filled me Since my tragic love began. 647 Thornbirds. . . vine: per the Gaelic story, certain birds impale themselves on thorns and sing their sweetest song as they perish 221

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Obelisk at Babel How innocuous648 we thought it When so long ago we did start To build our love a monument With brick and mortar of the heart. 5 The hotter that burned our passion, The faster the obelisk649 soared; Seemed Mercury650 the bricks fashioned While Hephaestus's651 furnace roared. And soon we overtook Babel652, 10 And, oh, how mighty was our fall! Lo, now we are dispersed rabble With no comprehension at all. How sweet was our soul's communion; A light and beauty that did lend 15 Happiness to oblivion653. Love's language lost, blown on the wind. 648 Innocuous: seemingly harmless 649 Obelisk: an ancient tower or monument much like the Washington Monument 650 Mercury: the messenger god renowned for his speed 651 Hephaestus: the blacksmith of the Hellenistic gods 652 Babel: the tower of Babel built to let men reach heaven 653 Oblivion: the realm of the forgotten, archaic, eclipsed, and destroyed 222

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Five and Twenty A. E. Housman warned me654 But could not prepare me for you. How could I heed the sagacious655, When you're too good to be true? 5 Here now I'm five and twenty, Having once been twentytwo, Despaired from giving my heart in vain656, And hopelessly smitten with you. And now my heart is bleeding, 10 And this fantasy can't be true. I don't think my age would matter, Thirtyfive or sixtytwo, My heart would be laid open Hoping for mercy from you. 15 I've no “pounds and crowns and guineas,“ Only love can I give to you. How could you be satisfied Just to be cherished a lifetime through? I wish I had more to offer, 20 Like I wish to remain with you. You're marvelous and irresistible, The most amazing woman I e'er knew! And though I know it's hopeless, I know that I'm in love with you. 25 Hear now my sighs aplenty, But take me in your arms anew. 654 A. E. . . . me: in Shropshire Lad XIII a young man age 22 laments that he didn't listen to a wise man about falling in love. The opening lines are: “When I was oneandtwenty I heard a wise man say, 'Give crowns and pounds and guineas But not your heart away;” 655 Sagacious: wise 656 In vain: futilely, uselessly 223

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I can hurt and bleed tomorrow, But for now let me treasure you. . . I've loved these wondrous weeks— 30 A spring flower that early grew Ere657 the last frost of the season658. Eternally I will miss you. How can I e'er love again Without recalling loving you? 35 And so it will ne'er be bittersweet But sour to live without you. How shall I feel completed Having lost heart and soul to you? 657 Ere: before 658 Last. . . season: generally by April it has started warming up and flowers bloom in Georgia, however around Easter there's always one last good frost that kills them 224

More Heresies from Iyan Igma This Skeleton Who Wears My Clothes Please take care of this skeleton Who has my choice but wear my clothes. His soul's gone, yet he runs about Like the chicken who never knows 5 His head has long since been chopped off But goes bleeding all over the place. If his mandibles659 are jiggling, Pretend there's a smile on his face. Eventually these bones will fall, 10 But until then try to abide660 The sight of one who, like his love, Has died, but's blinded by his pride. 659 Mandibles: jaws 660 Abide: put up with 225

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Eviscerated Lobes So many fresh wounds and so deep Have eviscerated661 my heart, Since everything that's dear to me I've seen destroyed or depart. 5 Each lobe has its separation— My God, religion, her, and you. My venal friends and arteries Of faith have been ripped right out, too. My body's filling full of blood, 10 And I'm miserable and afraid. Would to God He loved me, and that I could be healed with a bandaid! Would to God I'd left you alone, Then I would not be half as dead. 15 I gave up everything for you, But you've given me up instead. 661 Eviscerated: torn apart; disemboweled; take the guts out in a less than surgical way 226

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lo Merezco 662 ¿Hay nada que puedo hacer Para sanar el herido? Aunque te hace padecer, Me vuelve más afligido. 5 Me lleno de agonía; Es claro que lo merezco. Sin tí jamás tendré vida; No sé como no perezco. 662 This is in Spanish. See the translation at the end of this book, which is conveniently located in the section entitled “Translations.” 227

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Maldita Juventud Why must my age become my snare? Is it impossible to care About me because of my youth? Why is your heart blind to the truth 5 That my soul's without beginning? Is loving me such great sinning? I'm a generation behind; Can't you perceive that in my mind? Can't you see my maturity 10 And how much my youth frustrates me? I don't want a younger woman, Since this age is not what I am. Would I want something so hollow, When their minds and hearts are fallow663? 15 I'm stuck in someone else's form, Nonetheless, youth is not my norm. My age and body are my foes664, Though they're naught665 more than silly clothes That I've had no choice but to don666— 20 They're handicaps I look upon. Many others (though not in love) Have scorned me simply because of Digits667 unequal to my mind. How is it that when I should find 25 My soul's own kith and kin at last, You can like me but can't get past My youth? Ironic vanity! Others would love such flattery668. All the while I thought you perceived 30 That my looks couldn't be believed. 663 Fallow: barren; empty; desolate 664 Foes: enemies 665 Naught: nothing 666 Don: put on; wear 667 Digits: numbers, not fingers, although you can use your fingers to count 668 Others. . . flattery: being loved by a younger man 228

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Natural Causes I'm glad I died of natural causes And didn't have to commit suicide. So, why do I feel so empty? Why is there no one at my side? 5 My spirit died ages ago, And I've been just a zombie form. My heart has stopped, and my mind rots. Life is the devouring worm. Life has long since killed my spirit, 10 And my body will go on anon When, knife in my heart and bloodless, Eyes and body are still and wan669. What causes are more natural, Since we all kill ourselves somehow, 15 And casualties of love like me Have long since been dead anyhow? 669 Wan: pale 229

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lake of Love's Brimstone I already know I'm worthless, Do you have to rub it in? Sé que soy el gran fracaso670, And I wish I had never been. 5 Damn the mams671 that gave me suck, And damn the womb that gave me life. Damn all my useless intellect, And bless this liberating knife! Damn my frailties and emotions, 10 And damn the truth that's worse than fear: You could never bear to love me, But somehow you could hold me near. Bless the bosom, lips, and thighs of The heartless woman I loved true. 15 Although you're guilty of my death, I could ne'er make myself damn you. Ye blesséd Sons of Perdition672 Cast to hell from heaven above, Rejoice ye know not the lake of 20 Fire and brimstone673 of mortal love! 670 Sé. .. fracaso: I know that I'm a colossal failure 671 mams: breasts 672 Sons of Perdition: angels cast out of Heaven with Lucifer 673 Lake. . . brimstone: what the suffering of hell is supposed to be akin to 230

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Dysphemism On Loves True Essence love is just mutual stupidity that we dupe ourselves into because some childishness pervades us still, as is evidenced through 5 our need to believe in legends and myths that cannot save and make us act so foolishly since that's how lover's behave that's all it is a mental ruse 10 another lie that's hard to maintain because unlike the heartless truth, love and lies require us to lie again 231

More Heresies from Iyan Igma This Rag I clutch this rag close to my heart, For the memories it imparts674 Are what make life dear to me, While filling it with misery. 5 This rag is all I've left of you; You're both covered in mildew. Mold covers you, it, my soul. Death I cannot decontrol.675 The grime and squalor676 here 10 To my view scarcely appear, Since no reality's as severe As consuming loneliness austere677. Home is where the heart isleft, And I'm homeless and bereft.678 15 I wander through the blind streets And not a human do I meet, For demons wear egoic masks679. Sympathy's too much to give or ask. Snowflake's plagues fall everywhere, 20 But a little piece of threadbare Wool680 gives off more lasting heat Than the cardboard o'er my feet And the newspaper on the bench And me. Fate is a heartless wench 681 25 That takes what it wants and leaves, Clueless of the ones who grieve. 674 Imparts: shares; gives 675 Decontrol: change the effects or power of 676 Squalor: indigent filth 677 Austere: bitter, firm, stern, and merciless 678 Bereft: grieving 679 Demons. . . masks: people are so cold and selfish that they've ceased to be people 680 Little. . . wool: the rag 681 Wench: a woman of illrepute 232

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Without you all my treasure's gone. Why work? Why live? No God. Alone. 233

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Lady of Cofitachequi Mountains and rivers have I crossed, But gold only once did I see. How passing fair the vision of The Lady of Cofitachequi682! 5 She gave me her own strand of pearls; I wish she'd given me her heart, With the affection of her limbs And the comfort that they'd impart. I knew I could never win her, 10 So I tried to force her to go So she could be my chieftainess, But she escaped this Hidalgo683. Her cunning stays with me in dream, I see her carried by her men. 15 Each time I see a native's face, I can but think of her again. Battles roiled in blood have raged on; Though wounded I could never die, Not because I am a sun god684, 20 But because of my love whereby I have been healed of all my wounds, Since I'm determined to return To her in Cofitachequi, Though she might have me killed or burned685. 25 There's a fever that's taken me, Which history will not retell 682 Lady of Cofitachequi: When de Soto was traveling through the Georgia/South Carolina area, he was met by a female chieftain who gave him a string of pearls. She had him taken to her village, where they were treated as guests, at least until he kidnapped her and her entourage. 683 Hidalgo: Spanish rank or lesser nobility 684 Sun god: de Soto was mistaken for a sun god by some Native Americans, which is why he and his men were not killed immediately 685 She might...burned: you never know with a woman; they can be really emotional, testy, and unpredictable 234

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Since it's the ague686 of the heartsick. To be a Conquistador's687 hell. Moscoso688, say you've buried me 30 In the river while it's still night689. I'm dead to the expedition; When I find her, I'll be all right. I need not follow my carnage690 Since its course winds about too much 35 And would delay far too greatly The reception of her sweet touch. I must only follow the sun Until at last my heart is home. Not even death can stop me now. 40 Take command, Moscoso; I'm gone. 686 Ague: fever; sickness 687 Conquistador: a Spanish explorer and conqueror responsible for the obliteration and slavery of the native peoples of North and South America 688 Moscoso: de Soto's second in command who wasted little time in getting the rest of the expedition out of the South 689 Bury...night: de Soto was buried at night so the natives wouldn't find out he was dead and then kill the rest of his men 690 Carnage: trail of blood and death 235

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Relic of His Love His scent had faded from the shirt Like the perfect trust kids place in Parents and the beauty of dawn Consumed by harsh, sunlit din691. 5 I've692 lost the relic693 of his love, The musk that let's me dream he's here. So I go to his apartment, Hoping wildly his voice to hear. I go onto his bed to lie; 10 His smell hasn't begun to ebb694. I hold his pillow tight and think Of my love tangled in life's web. Maybe when he returns and rests, Some lingering traces of me 15 Will make him think of weeks alone Without my zealous695 company. Perhaps a little whiff will make Him crave not the flesh but the heart And soul which love him so, like his 20 Musk teases me when we're apart. 691 Din: raucous noise 692 I've: this poem is written from a girl's perspective, not mine 693 Relic: artifact; sacred object; trace 694 Ebb: fade away 695 Zealous: fervent; passionate 236

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sailor Boy Sailor boy, you've come back to port After journeying far away. Why is it you won't look at me? Is there nothing you'd like to say? 5 Why haven't you taken me in Your arms or made a bride of me? I guess it's true that sailor boys Have no heart save696 for ship and sea. Are there no stories you would tell 10 Of bounding mains697 and foreign shores, Of hurricanes ventured bravely, How mates snore and the captain bores? Why haven't you shared more with me? I've loved you since I was four. 15 I wish you'd stand and hold me, but You don't have land legs anymore. You'll take your final voyage soon And be taken away from me By the dame that wooed and killed you, 20 Buried with your mistress—the sea. 696 Save: except 697 Bounding mains: wavetossed seas 237

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Ring's Vow When last we were naked together, I wished that you might stay In my ravenous arms forever. But duty called, and you were away. 5 I never got to hold you and Enjoy the exuberant kiss That only lovers understand When they are wearied by bliss. The moment is gone, as are you, 10 And now there's none to warm my bed, To cuddle with the whole night through. O, that I'd been a nun instead! For these emotions will linger, Although they cannot be fulfilled, 15 Like the ring's vow on my finger, Since we were engaged, and you're killed. Oh, had we not been so hasty To give our maidenheads698 away, And had love not been so tasty, 20 I'd not be tortured today! For there are bonds, my dead young man, That will chain down the living's soul. You became part of who I am, And without you I can't be whole. 25 Sure, I could lie with other men, But I can never lie with you. I would remember us again. But in death I can lie with you. 698 Maidenheads: virginity 238

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Apple Scented Death What strange visions my dreams present me! The sins committed at her behests 699 Should fill me with fear and mortal700 guilt, Though my friar701 would say I was possessed. 5 She awakens me in this lucid dream702, Though it just might be reality, Completely in rapturous703 control As if 'twere normal to straddle me. Such fragrance her hair and body have, 10 Flowing and soft to intimate touch, Usurp704 me. Her blackened figure shows. My vitality ebbs with each clutch She takes and drifts to euphoria705. Though virile706, I pander707 to her wants. 15 Each night she returns and drains me more, But I love her lips and iv'ry taunts. She fills me with passions I find wild, Causing flames to race and fire to beat708. I feel her, the unfinished sculpture 20 Whose backside's void709, though her front side's sweet. 699 Behests: commands, insistence 700 Mortal: mortal sins are the most serious type, and they largely unforgivable, depending on who you ask 701 Friar: priest 702 Lucid dream: a dream in which you know that you are awake 703 Rapturous: blissful, hedonistic 704 Usurp: take possession of 705 Euphoria: an extremely pleasurable and happy state, somewhere close to Hawaii 706 Virile: strong and manly 707 Pander: satisfy 708 Flames. . . beat: referring to his blood and heart 709 Unfinished. . . void: a succubus is rumoured to be an incomplete illusion of a woman, not bothering to tidy up the image of her back and buttocks. I'll let you know for sure the next time I encounter one. 239

More Heresies from Iyan Igma What else could this beauty want from me? I'll give her energy and quick breath. Her eyes glow as she leans in quite pleased As I welcome applescented death710. 710 Death: after a succubus visits several times draining the host of energy, he might just die. 240

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Across the Thatch Please reach ye here within my breast; Thrust your hand 'neath ribs and membranes711, And find the beat within my chest Attached to arteries and veins. 5 You must feel how it pines712 for you; Take it in one unholy snatch. Look here, it beats constant and true, And my blood spurts across the thatch713. I pledged to give my heart to you; 10 Please, squeeze it now with all your might Till cardiac muscle seeps through Your fist's crevices714 with delight. See now, it is like warm play dough; It's stopped bleeding, beating, feeling. 15 You've lost interest in me, ergo715 My sight and blood are congealing716. 711 Membranes: the mucouslike, thin coverings on vital organs 712 Pines: longs after 713 Thatch: straw used for flooring or roofing, etc. 714 Seeps. . . crevices: squeeze so hard that the muscle oozes out between the cracks between one's fingers 715 Ergo: therefore 716 Congealing: thickening 241

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Metallic Girl I woke up in bed feeling stared at, Alone beneath silky covers, Gazing at the gun at my head. "We were the sweetest of lovers, 5 But don't protest right now, please, At this thing which I must now do. It's hard enough should you not speak; I should not say a word to you. I'm not allowed to feel, 10 Since I am employed to kill. But you have made my life so sweet And made me believe love was real. I never had such fun before As the thrill that you've given me. 15 But what is fun to my gun when You have angered the Family? I don't know what it is that you Have done, except for delude me With visions of a gentler life 20 Wherein I'd live passionately. And maybe this is all it was, Which in itself is not a crime. But for metal men717 like me 'tis— I should never have wasted time 25 Making myself vulnerable To a mortal that too soon'd die. I know this must be hard for you, But look here at how much I cry. I'm sure they only gave me this 30 Assignment to try out my zeal. But loyalties are first to them; 717 Metal men: hitmen 242

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Now you know that they always will Be. Thank you so much for the times And selfrespect you've given me. 35 I'll show you some of the same now By doing my job decently." She put the gun next to my head; I scrambled her features to note. Her face was dry and composed. There's 40 Not even a lump in her throat. 243

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Vibrant Life When the world was young and free And I was full of vibrant life, I looked around and said to me, "Self, who shall you take for a wife?" 5 I looked 'round. There's the coursing doe, The sow, and the heifer that moos. All mother nature's glory, though, Paled in comparison to you. I said to me, "Self, she's the one. 10 My heart's set, and it won't be moved." And now I'm cursed it was not stone But a fickle718 woman I loved. I gave you flowers by the score719; You smiled and told me they were nice. 15 You treated me just as before. I know now your heart's solid ice. I pined away for you each day And serenaded by the moon. I wrote you sonnets. Naught could sway 20 Your heart, so I cried a monsoon. Not even tears could endear me, So I took my life in your grove. You treated my corpse carelessly, But you ever disdained my love. 25 My body could not be interred720 In the churchyard's most sacred ground. But why is it that it's not stirred And a few leaves are all it's found 718 Fickle: inconstant 719 Score: twenty 720 Interred: buried 244

More Heresies from Iyan Igma For covering both sight and smell? 30 My spirit lingers in love with you, For such sorrow's not fit for hell, And seeing me makes Satan blue. You have no heart spite those that give You theirs, believing in your lie. 35 See, they too cannot bear to live, And your heartlessness makes them die. We, your harem721 of ghosts of men, Ever grow in number and thrive. Had you but cried at our deaths, then 40 Straightway we'd have been made alive. 721 Harem: in all other instances, a group of female consorts, that is, concubines 245

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Yonder Hollows of Eden Near yonder hollows of Eden By the banks of the rivers four722, A hopeless man lies ableedin' In his own life's pool on the floor. 5 God, angels, nor man can save him, Since it is more than they can do To witness him groan grave723 and grim From where his sister ran him through. She plunged the knife through his rib cage 10 And gave it a hideous twist And was a gleeful sangrephage724, Licking spurts of blood from her wrist. There have died many knights errant725, But ne'er so heartbroken and blue. 15 Adam and Eve are our parents, I'm the lad, and the sister's you. 722 Rivers four: four rivers were said to have come out of Eden (see Genesis 2:114) 723 Grave: seriously 724 Sangrephage: blood devourer 725 Knights errant: valiant knights who traveled through Europe on quests, who most likely had committed plenty of errors and mistakes, too 246

More Heresies from Iyan Igma When I Loved You None wanted you when I loved you, For they said that you were too mean, An eagle that feasted on flesh And could not be bothered to preen726. 5 Though I discerned your inner jewel, They saw only the rough of you. I cut you with my expertise And your own luster727 consumed you. I made you see that you're wondrous, 10 The meteor, not the crater, Your otherworldly charm. You're an Infidel728 to your creator, For now that I have made fine art, The art says that it was not made. 15 You owe so much to my tender love You immediately betrayed. 726 Preen: clean off the bits of previous meals that are stuck to the feathers 727 Luster: brilliance; shine 728 Infidel: unfaithful or disloyal person 247

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The One with Whom I Now Lay I noticed when we met today The tragic, nostalgic729, longing way You looked at the one with whom I now lay730. She'd never give in to your whim, 5 Since she knows that your affection's slim, While I dote on her and make her heart brim731. Years hence she gave her heart to you, And the softness of her body, too. But you neglected her till she withdrew. 10 Your heart was bleeding in your eyes, Seeing how her sun blazes the skies When cherished as befits a wondrous prize. So, have the moon you left her for And brood732 on treasures that vaults can't store, 15 For she'll lie blithe733 with me forevermore. 729 Nostalgic: full of bittersweet memories 730 Lay: [sic] 731 Brim: full 732 Brood: think bitterly about 733 Blithe: happy 248

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Their Anniversary His greasy belly says the words That he was too manly to say. Besides, it would have been a lie If he had said them anyway. 5 She thinks of her trashy novels She reads knowing that love's not real, That sex is a disappointment, And sight would prove that he's there still. Today's their anniversary, 10 And neither one's happy inside. Thirty years together for kids, Bills, reputation, money, pride. 249

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pessimism Ao Morrer My harrows734, blades, and plows are rusting In the fields, exposed to the weather Where I left them. My heart went lusting For a new labour, as it's ever 5 Done, and I forgot about them there Just like the new project I'd begun, For I laboured some while it was fair But hid from the rain and blazing sun. I left my fields uncultivated, 10 A million things undone, maybe more. It's clear to see my life's frustrated, Being too prone to give up and bore. 734 Harrows: farm implement that can be considered as a row of blades used to rip into the ground. 250

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Transient Gleam There are clouds that cover my sunset, Keeping beauty far beyond my sight's reach, Evoking dusky mem'ries that won't forget Similar happenings in youth's love at the beach. 5 Pastel smears should tint the clouds, But like fire, they're nowhere to be seen. Some lucky spectator somewhere lauds The sun's last transient, intense gleam. But here I mourn in my life's ends— 10 The sunset promising dawn never more— With brilliant miracles like grandkids dim, Since cataracts cloud the view from shore. 251

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Omens with a Simple Touch The ivy on the window sill Tried to warn me that you were to leave. But it mourns not for you, For it is growing while I grieve. 5 I wonder how this simple plant Could be green with apathy735, Indifferent that I have lost The dearest person there was to me? I think it's trying to tell me 10 That life goes on, and I must grow, Till another ivy touches the sill, And I go where the soul's wind shall blow. I wonder if there's life for me, Since you've withered brown and away. 15 Living in your afterdeath, There's so much I long to hear you say! I wonder at what this plant knows, That such omens736 with a simple touch Were portentous737 enough to show 20 How my calm life could change so much. 735 Apathy: indifference; lack of care 736 Omens: signs that indicate good or bad luck, often found in nature or astrology 737 Portentous: able to foretell the future 252

More Heresies from Iyan Igma On the Bed Where We Loved Lying in the bed where we loved, Where respect and appreciation were grown, And our friendship was improved Is the greatest torture ever known. 5 How many decades did we spend Illclad and holding each other tight Before there came this lonely end? I miss you so much tonight. If only I could hold you close, 10 Your head on my chest, hand in hair, And hear you slumber in repose738, Then I could heal my heart's great tear! You became so much a part of me; I learned to depend and trust in you. 15 Waking up, you were still and musky, While passionate the whole night through. I watch the ghosts of lovers past739 Enjoy what has been taken from me. I tell them, wishing that it could last, 20 To enjoy such vibrant intimacy. Wrinkled skin that once was soft Whispers740 across my heartbroken skin, And no matter whatever the cost, I'd long to tell you "I love you," again. 25 You died today, though months before741. Your side742 is as cold as it was then 738 Repose: sleep 739 Ghosts. . . past: memories of the past 740 Wrinkled. . . whispers: the memory of the lover's touch is still almost perceptible 741 Today. . . before: the death, though months old, seems fresh each morning. It indicates how fresh and traumatic the wound is. 742 Side: side of the bed, since most people have a traditional side of the bed which they claim as their own 253

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The morning when you woke no more And my misery did begin. Without you, I feel so hollow; 30 You taught me to live and be a man, And I pray that quickly I can follow, No longer knowing who I am. To relive our years is my wish, And I'd love you even more than before, 35 Now I know how much I miss your kiss, Your company, your words, and so much more. Each night I die without you, And I awake each morn in hell, The only thought that gets me through 40 Is that I might follow you soon, as well. 254

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lonely Tree "Lonely tree, you've a life to live Full of droughts and rain and sunshine, Winds to strengthen you blowing through Your leaves with a whisper or whine. 5 You'll have to give your seeds away To the wind that they may flourish Far away from your shade and roots That light and water might nourish Them; you'll hope they'll all grow upright, 10 For like leaves, they're never to stay. Don't mourn the loss of chlorophyll743; You're not the tint744, and leave it may. Your life is constant, cyclic loss, But as you shed, don't shed a tear. 15 There is no shame in being bare, And your leaves will come back next year. Just know I'm watching over you, And new blossoms will sprout in spring. Your limbs will be full of treasure 20 That's living, and you'll hear birds sing. If you're afflicted with disease, You can heal yourself completely. But one day your spirit will pass; And you fall quite concretely." 25 Those were the words I told the tree When it was a young, splendid green. Now this sapling towers o'er me 743 Chlorophyll: the green pigment in leaves that is used to turn sunlight into energy 744 Tint: colour 255

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And I'm stooped , frail746, and on Feldene.747 745 It seems the tree is telling me 30 A similar message today, For as it watches over me I feel I almost hear it say, 'Lonely man, you have lived your life Full of despair and joy and love. 35 Crises748 have come to strengthen you, And with faith you've risen above. Your children had to leave your home To appreciate you and live Free of the suffocation 40 And overprotection you'd give. I'm sure they turned out fine, But like hair they were never yours. Don't fret749 that gray has bleached your hair You're not pigment; it won't endure. 45 Life is naught750 more than change and less, But as you bald, weep not, my friend. There's no shame in being hairless, For soon your new life will begin. Just know I'm watching over you; 50 Your grandchildren will visit soon, And you'll hug your living treasures And rejoice when they laugh and intune751. Disease is just a part of life, 745 Stooped: bent over 746 Frail: fragile 747 Feldene: an antiinflammatory drug often given to those who suffer from arthritis 748 Crises: problems 749 Fret: worry 750 Naught: nothing 751 Intune: sing 256

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And you can heal while God allows. 55 But soon your flesh will become dirt, Just the same as the farmer plows. And I will be here to recall The youth who long hence752 planted me. I'll watch your kids and grandkids pass, 60 And I will still be this old tree.' 752 Long hence: long ago 257

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Miracle Too Soon Gone Your family will never heal, Though you would surely want them to. They live sad day by painful day, Never resting in peace with you. 5 Your suffering's come to an end, But you've passed the baton to them; You're a miracle too soon gone, An obviously missing gem. The bonds and roles that you fulfilled 10 Have left profound and gaping holes In a family so tightly knit That 'twas a tapestry of souls. No parent should e'er have to bear The tragedy of letting go 15 Of their greatest creation, For in death a child should follow The ones who gave their all for him And lose part of themselves indeed, Since you slipped away so young, and 20 They couldn't give you what you need. They think that they have lost you, since Your spirit long hence has moved on; They're still trying to cope with pain That's graven into their heart's stone. 25 But you are here close and unseen, A guardian angel to them, Trying to console and strengthen Till you're reunited again. The irony is that the eyes 30 That we trust more than faith are blind To the unexplained love we feel 258

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 753 Subtly subdue the distressed mind When loved ones liberated from Life's pain tell us that all is well. 35 But their passing makes us empty. They rest in peace; we rest in Hell. 753 Subdue: calm 259

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I Walk These Lonely Hills I walk these lonely hills for you Like a ship adrift at sea, Wishing you'd come to take the helm And rescue myself from me. 5 Bonaparte on Saint Helena754 Knew not of my captivity, Reclusive, exiled from power, Parted from you, ma sweet cherie755. The leaves have grown, the trees have, too; 10 My anxiety ever grows Like blossoms trapped under snow drifts With tears freezing as they transpose756. Chirping birds call for you in spring, And we both wait out your reply 15 So intent we barely notice That the strong young have learned to fly. I see the sun seeking by day, And the moon mourns with me each night. Often the spirits of the dead 20 Watch me with pity at twilight. Years ago now we were to meet To elope from this dense wildwood. I wait. Love and hope never die; If they were true they never could. 25 That night the storms blew around thick Like a mine collapsing on me. Surely the storm kept you away. Why haven't you yet come for me? 754 Bonaparte...Helena: Napoleon was exiled to this remote island for the last bit of his life 755 Ma...cherie: ma cherie is French for my sweet (girl/lady) 756 Transpose: the official sounding word for a crying or sweating plant. 260

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The wildwood is still undisturbed 30 Like the love that I have for you, Though many moons have seen me wait Unphased by the cold, heat, and dew. I'll wait for you, until I die, And then should you come, love'd heal me, 35 Unlike the bones of some poor man Whose love visits him faithfully On the selfsame day that we should Have had our anniversary. Her finger's bare. She kneels. She cries. 40 Would you cry those same tears for me? She found him years after I did; He lies defunct757 in the ravine758. He must have taken a fauxpas759 And stepped right into the unseen. 45 The more she comes, the more fancy Starts to run away with my mind. For though she's old and weary now, She looks more like you all the time. 757 Defunct: dead 758 Ravine: gully; gulch; small canyon 759 Fauxpas: misstep 261

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sop of Saving Bread Here, have the last morsel of bread. You can gnaw on my corpse after. And when you do, try not to think Of the one who gave you laughter. 5 Don't think of the hugs and kisses, And whatever you do, don't cry. My love is unconditional; For you, my child, I gladly die. You must live; you have much to learn 10 And fantastic sights to witness. You'll make it through. Soon rain must come, And earth will be healed of sickness, Of the cold but snowless winter And the drought that thawed in spring's lieu760. 15 Of the crops that failed all year long, While our animals perished, too. My life's full, though not my belly; My gaunt761 body's ready for rest. It's peaceful, slipping to heaven 20 As my heart stills in my chest. But you must live to understand The true happiness of the grown, And thus understand my last acts By having children of your own. 25 Don't weep; I will watch over you, And I'll comfort you in your dreams. You'll never be alone here, child, Even if that is how it seems." 760 Lieu: stead, place 761 Gaunt: thin, emaciated 262

More Heresies from Iyan Igma At Yuletide I sit inside my own grave. It's dark and damp because My tears fall like snowflakes for The pain of what isn't but was. 5 Festivities ring out below me, And shoppers dream of silver bells, And children dream of presents, Except the ne'erdowells Like me who have destroyed life 10 Choice by choice by friend by friend And have no family to welcome home Or visit at the year's dark end. Salty rain occludes762 my vision As "Little Drummer Boy" 15 Turns into a "White Christmas," Followed by "Hark," "Silent," "Joy." But listen as I might I hear No joy, silent or otherwise. All the traditions and songs 20 Of youth have been but lies. My family doesn't want me, And I've no money to see them. The only things they'd talk about Are men and why I'm so slim. 25 "You need to eat more, honey, The wind could blow you away.” “Are you seeing anyone new now? Old maids have no wedding day." I'm not anorexic763. Why should I eat? 30 I don't have enough will to live; 762 Occludes: blurs; distorts; hides; darkens 763 Anorexic: a person who starves oneself due to an eating disorder 263

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I only nibble enough to survive. But I'd laugh out something glib 764 To pretend I hadn't felt the barb. And let's not talk about men; 35 They all take advantage of me. I don't want their765 sympathy again. They766 mock me with their kids That act so proper and prim. My brother has a perfect her; 40 My sister has an upstanding him. They just want to discomfit767 me, But I'll never let it show. Their happiness makes me distraught, So I seek out any beau768. 45 There's no sex this Christmas; I couldn't bear another tryst769. Each time I get hurt worse; It only hurts once to slit your wrist. Then, there's no more pain, 50 No more heartache and loneliness. Hell can't be worse than now In my socioemotional abyss770. In fact, it could only be better, For I'll end my body's pain. 55 I won't have to live tomorrow; From fret and worry I'll abstain. 764 Glib: superfluous and seemingly happy 765 Their: her family's 766 They: the family 767 Discomfit: upset 768 Beau: fellow; chap; man 769 Tryst: a relationship that's over before it began 770 Abyss: pit 264

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I'll need not make more decisions; I'll never be hurt by another friend, Mocked by family, ignored by God, 60 Or betray my gifts to heartless men. Not even my mother loves me; There's no point in going on. She should know my pain and call, But love is muted on the phone. 65 Let's have a drink to me tonight, Perpetually771 on the naughty list. Should I choose now the jugular772 Or slit useless, petite wrists? The bathtub. It will drain the blood, 70 So it's easier to be rid of me. That's all anyone's ever wanted, Though I was too hopeless to see. I brandish773 the knife curiously— It's the present that will unwrap me. 75 To think we die by such simple means, When living is a vast complexity! I can scarcely see my skin For the salt that stings my eyes. 'Have some resolve774 you stupid girl; 80 Hack away, and silence your cries. It won't do to whimper775 for For there is nothing for you here. Why won't you act? The knife's so Close! Don't be paralyzed by fear. 771 Perpetually: always 772 Jugular: a large vein in the neck that results in a quick death should one slit it 773 Brandish: wield; hold and wave 774 Resolve: strength; determination; gumption 775 Whimper: make a small, hurt noise 265

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 85 Do you really want to continue Being mocked, abused, and ignored? Each day kills you mercilessly, Never wiping your blood from its sword. How many reminders do you need? 90 No one loves you; Mom will not call. This isn't like all the times before, When you thought, but that was all. Christmas time calls for red and green; Your blood and envy paint it true. 95 Now go ahead, you foolish girl, I have no more use for you!' Long slits deep go up my arm; Pain cries to my head to cease776. My plasma warms the water; 100 The casket will grant me peace. There are no tears to mourn me here, Only gushing tears in my flesh. It reminds me, oddly, of infantile days, Of my mother's soothing caress. 105 How long have I been here now? The water's grown chill; so have I. I wish I could hear my mother's voice Once more before I shortly die. It's a struggle now, but I somehow 110 Manage to drag myself from the tub. My naked, bleeding body crawls across The Linoleum floor I used to scrub. There's no vitality777 left in me; I collapse from hands and knees. 115 I cannot make myself go, Despite my curses and pleas. 776 Cease: stop 777 Vitality: life force 266

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 'Goodbye, mom,' I think softly, Since whispers are now beyond me. I hope somehow she can hear me, 120 Know I love her, and be glad I'm free. I lie here face down as I ebb778, Drawn like the low tide by the moon. Something prickles at my memory, And I'm trying to place the tune. 125 "I'll be home for Christmas?" Wryly779 I think that I'll be gone. What is that faint ringing noise? Is it the last time I'll hear the phone? I wonder who it could be? 130 Just leave a message; I won't reply, For I'm drifting off to ether780, And my spirit the stars will pass by. "Honey, this is your mother calling," Those words by tinny noise relayed 135 Have given me a spark of energy; Maybe death can be delayed. I inch ahead with bloodstain smears. "It's Christmas Eve. I worry about you. Call me when you get this message. 140 Merry Christmas. I love and miss you." Her words died out as did my strength, Finding me 'neath the Christmas Tree. Its lights are dark just like my joy. My veins and stockings are empty. 145 A yuletide wreath of blood surrounds me; 778 Ebb: fade away 779 Wryly: bitterly 780 Ether: a spiritual substance and plane 267

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sight's dim; I hear music for the last time. "So have yourself a Merry Little Christmas," And drink to me and "auld lang syne781." 781 Auld lang syne: Friends and happiness in days long since past. 268

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Merry Philia Vuln'rable within my warm lap, I often wonder why I must Employ this elaborate scheme To maintain such soon betrayed trust 5 And tease my heinous782 appetites While giving others just like me A brief glimpse of what my flesh craves. But impostors won't be merry As I will be on Christmas Eve. 10 Prithee, why must I build these toys The world over just to sample The tender flesh of girls and boys, To dupe them not to make a sound When I come and feel their stockings? 15 And should they mention what happens, They would be the brunt of mockings, Though I was more than a bad dream Or be put on my naughty list, And not receive more gifts next year. 20 But then, the gift of innocence Ravaged is worth the elbow grease, Chimney ash, and letting them tug On my beard while I scout out this Year's crop to violate and drug 25 And plan for those of coming years, Letting my own dark selfishness Rub off onto them, albeit After my acts so mischievous, They'll need something to cling on to 30 For the emotional scarring, Knowing I can always get in, 782 Heinous: monstrous; horrid; unspeakable 269

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Spite locked doors and windowbarring. The flood of letters overwhelms, So we scarcely read them; we guess. 35 If most kids don't get what they want, That's fine. They should have wanted less. They can just play with the boxes; The only kids who must receive What they requested are the ones 40 Who make me want them to believe Since they have something that I want. You can't get something for nothing. Someone somewhere must pay a price, Although to me it seems trifling. 45 It's ironic how parents think That a misguided "fairy tale" Will do no harm, but they never Understood idolatry well, But preach me, not what should be taught. 50 Though that's not to say that I am Not real. I exist, but there is No Santa, just a sick old man. 270

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Licit to Live The mobs are coming steadily, Not trying to hide their approach, Though secretly they're sore afraid, Spite the torchlight which does encroach783. 5 They come to kill the monster Who lives atop this old hill, A threat to society Only because he can feel. How dare I think outside the box? 10 They've always killed my kind; It is just not licit784 to live Should someone dare to use the mind. As they come to kill me, I smile since they can't see 15 The only truth that's ever been: The only monsters are men. 783 Encroach: intrude 784 Licit: legal; permissable 271

More Heresies from Iyan Igma True Thanksgiving Dear Father, we thank thee for Allowing us to come to this land Of promise full of resources To despoil785 on every hand. 5 We are grateful that thou hast Brought us into contact with the Savages here who could save us And ne'er see our savagery. We are grateful to be able 10 To learn how to raise maize 786 And hunt game, that there Will be plenty of room to graze Our herds in once we cut down All of these ancient, tow'ring trees. 15 We are grateful we could strengthen Our power during deceptive peace. We thank thee that we could Trick them into giving away Their land for beads and beer— 20 They never owned land anyway. We thank thee that we could show These pagan animists787 how much Better Christianity is by Abusing and betraying trust, 25 By taking their lives away from them; Raping their women; and causing that Their children, elderly, and pregnant Should perish in winter marches or combat. 785 Despoil: use up and waste 786 Maize: corn 787 Animists: those who believe that everything has a spirit 272

More Heresies from Iyan Igma We are grateful Thou gavest them gold 30 So we'd have reason to seize their homes And force them to move many times Into the worst habitats ever known. We are grateful for these our friends Who Thou gavest us to fulfill 35 Our greed and lust to enslave other Human beings and ultimately kill Merely for the sheer sake of power. Thou hast been so good to us. We have been blest more than any 40 Land; that's why in God we trust. Surely Thou approvest of our actions; We know Thou wouldst do the same. We thank Thee that we're fat and inept788, Bred to fail, be mediocre and inane789. 45 We're grateful to have a government That forgets its civic duty To care for its citizens because It prefers corporate booty. 790 We're grateful to be lulled away 50 Into the peaceful serenity That sets us up to fail because Of our blind complacency.791 788 Inept: stupid; useless 789 Inane: foolish; empty 790 Booty: treasure 791 Complacency: the empty happiness that keeps us from thinking and doing 273

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lover's Leap “Hurry, I hear their racket now, Pursuing us while they should sleep. Our parents split by a feud so strong That it's a promise that they must keep. 5 Don't mind your shoe; I'll carry you, For we are almost to the ridge. You can see their torch lights blaze below; They've already passed the borough792 bridge. Look, at last, it's come within view; 10 The trees have thinned out, so has the air. Soon enough we'll be like the stars— Of this world we'll be unaware. We'll never worry about the love Our parents' pride would not permit. 15 Do you see the world stretched out beneath? I would have loved to have given you it. Place your cold hand upon my chest, And please accept this as my vow: That though my heart is not beating, 20 I will love you as much as now. I will cherish the light in your laughter And the angel's song in your eyes. I'll remember you ever after. We'll continue our love in the skies. 25 They must be growing close now, For I see flickers of your dear face, Although the moon is shrouded793 And refuses to look on this place. Let's have a kiss to remember 30 The secret of youth's love we did keep.” 792 Borough: small town 793 Shrouded: covered in black, as is fitting for a funeral 274

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The wind lifts us from the precipice794 As our parents reach lover's leap. 794 Precipice: edge of the cliff 275

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Holocaustic Future You tell me across the barbed wire Where you're corralled, tortured, and starved, Working yourself to death by fire When at last pain will be forcarved795, 5 That it was well I kept vigil796 And listened to the signs and spoke Just like I were a radical, Though you thought I was blowing smoke. You say 'tis well that I foresaw 10 The atrocities797 that would come And tried to warn you each and all, Despite your being dumb798 and numb. But I say, in my own corral, What good was it? What did it change? 15 We still wound up in this locale799 Looking like a withered phalange800. We're victims of what I warned of, And vindication's801 empty now; It's as vibrant as is my love— 20 Some of the ashes on my brow802. I was right, but this horrid state Adds grievances to having been Ignored and derided too late To hope for the future again. 795 Forcarved: ended 796 Vigil: watch 797 Atrocities: the horrific crimes that men commit 798 Dumb: mute 799 Locale: place 800 Phalange: finger bone 801 Vindication: “I told you so;” being proven right 802 Vibrant. . . brow: his love was burned and the ashes from her dead body may well be on his forehead, joining the ashes of many other dead bodies 276

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 25 Our liberties had disappeared; The complacent ears of lulled souls Thought perception ranting. I feared The death that now us both controls. 277

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Last of the Free Roam Tigers The last of the free roam tigers Chases his prey, stalking silently. They run around on two legs And play haphazardly. 5 They won't make much of a meal, But they're better than the refuse Of the dumpsters lining the city Where nature once roamed loose. It's hard to hunt in brick and glass jungles; 10 Savannah803 grasses barely hide. He's a puny thing to look upon, But he still hasn't lost his pride. His brothers lost their lives to man, Since poachers don't care a bit 15 About endangered species lists; They just care about profits. But then, all men are poachers, They've poached his home away. Their cities span the world entire, 20 Forcing nature out of their way. The smell of sweat and fresh meat Is too much for him to resist; He pounces, kids scream, a rifle sounds, And free roam tigers cease to exist. 25 The world won't miss them; movies, Video games; and wildlife reruns on TV, Are more than enough entertainment To make them forget tigers blissfully. His head will go on a hunters wall; 30 Maybe it will be sold on eBay. 803 Savannah: the grasslands of subSaharan Africa 278

More Heresies from Iyan Igma His death is worth far more to man Than his life would be anyway. 279

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Prodigal Sin Welcome home, my wayward804 son! Has the day finally come at last? How many lifetimes have come and gone? All the while I've yet to break my fast. 5 I've prayed for you vigilantly While listening to others weep About the ones who've gone astray, But eventually they go to sleep. They cannot know my heartache, 10 For worlds without end have stretched forth Since you left for pride's sake, Failing to usurp805 the thrones of the North. Milton806 thought 'twas you who cried, Who suffered through sheer agony, 15 But really something within me died, Since you could no longer be with me. What joy, now you have returned Of your own free will and accord More penitent807 because you've learned 20 There is always mercy with the Lord. How I always wanted to extend Pardon, but it was always futile808 before Since your pride wouldn't let you mend, But kept your angered conscience sore. 25 Heaven's open moreso than Troy809, Come and give me a warm embrace. 804 Wayward: having gone far astray and fallen into the paths of sin and pleasure 805 Usurp: gain power over 806 Milton: John Milton wrote Paradise Lost 807 Penitent: humble 808 Futile: useless 809 Troy: Ilium; the ancient city of Anatolia that the Greeks besieged in the Odyssey. 280

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I could die now and be full of joy At having seen my lost son's face. I've hoped for this day perpetually; 30 You'll never know a parent's love. I don't mind the wounds you give me; I've held you once more; that is enough. I knew I only had to wait for you To get it through your stubborn head 35 The great betrayal you could do While making God happy to be dead. 281

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Vigilante Justice Just another quiet morning, He kissed his wife and kids goodbye And hurried out with endless thoughts Not knowing he soon would die. 5 Grease would not be his undoing, Nor years of lacking exercise. Stress would not be the cause of death, Though there was plenty in his eyes When I held the gun to his head 10 And told him to repent or die. He did so, blubbering the while, But I knew it was just a lie. I know your thoughts, oh little man, And I know just what you will do. 15 I know that words you vow right now Quite often will never come true. I've felt your deeds' consequences; You pierced my side and beat my back810. I'll not be a passive Saviour; 20 It's fin'ly time for me to act... 810 Felt...back: every bit of pain, heartache, death and suffering that we''ll experience has already been suffered by the Saviour. In a sense you might say that we are responsible for his death, especially those that 282

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lack of Perception Can't you see the hugs I give Chill an Italian kiss; That the handshakes I extend Only give your consent; 5 That the gun to your head's but A token of friendship; The explosion's warm laughter Among boist'rous comrades; Your brains, bone, and blood splattered 10 Are only a portion Of what you have done to me, My pride, and honor; and My smiles are acknowledgment Of betrayal revenged? 283

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Alimentar Os Tuburőes "Daddy's feeding the fish, my dear. Don't you see how well they play with him. Look; they're nibbling on his left ear And the remains of his calves and shins. 5 There's still a sparkle in his eyes, So you know he's enjoying the fun. See how they pounce upon his thighs? Now fish have gills and lungs. He's doing such a marvelous show, 10 But it's a shame there's not more meat On him to feed the sharks below. He was an abusive deadbeat. Wave Daddy goodbye; blow a kiss. Try not to remember his screams. 15 The best parts of him you won't miss, For they'll be with you in your dreams." 284

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Safely Sepultado "My love is safely sepultado811; You must take no thought for her." 'And with her are the morals That once held for me such allure812.' 5 "Let's have no talk of her this day, God rest her soul" 'in Hell below. He helped me escape from her, Though it's a secret that none know.' "Let the feast continue on, friend, 10 Mourn later, take her plate away" 'She was far too imperious813.' "Let's eat, drink, and be glad today." 811 Sepultado: buried 812 Allure: attraction 813 Imperious: commanding and controlling 285

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Coopersmith The coopersmith814 sat glib815 and free With his secrets all sealed up tight, And no one would have thought that he Could have done what he did that night. 5 He tapped the barrels on the rack, Thinking of their contents wasting. The priest was never coming back Like the Saxons after Hastings816. Despite the years, steel bands were tight 10 Like the lips of their dark maker. He was the portrait of a saint, But nothing could save the baker. Why had they argued? Who recalls? The casket coffin mattered more 15 Than all those angry words and deeds He'd gone to shrive about before. The priest should not have fretted817, But dark secrets cannot be shared, Even with those who vow silence. 20 It's good more barrels were prepared. 814 Coopersmith: barrel maker 815 Glib: smug and happy 816 Saxons after Hastings: in 1066 the AngloSaxons lost the battle of Hastings to William the Conqueror, forever losing their kingdom and power 817 Fretted: worried 286

More Heresies from Iyan Igma To Look Past Your Psychopathy You disappointed me; I tried To look past your psychopathy818 To find an inner freak to love. But your heart and mind are empty. 5 All the malicious819 acts you've done Are a poor testament820 to me. I never sensed depth in your work; You were acting—it's plain to see. I forgave you—my love's true. 10 My heart glowed when you took pleasure In dismembering your victims That you kept bound at your leisure. I always hoped for something more, But you could never follow through. 15 Your gore821 rose as you watched me eat; It was something you couldn't do. At first it seemed we were perfect; Then, horror segued822 to discord823. Why would you try to pain me so 20 With your disdaining vocal cords? We're nothing now; your broken heart Will be quite the delicacy. Now I know I'll have the last word, Because your tongue is inside me. 818 Psychopathy: demented and psychotic behavior 819 Malicious: evil; cruel 820 Testament: witness 821 Gore: bile; urge to vomit 822 Segued: continued on; led to 823 Discord: arguments and problems 287

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Midnight Reprieve I'm riding off forgiven and free, Since the President has pardoned me. I was spontaneously reborn Pure as the snows of Matterhorn824 5 In the instant he said to me, “Although you have been found guilty Of crimes heinous825 and ungodly, You've inspired this Presidency. Consider this final waiver826 10 Just a little friendly favour. Clearly you've rehabilitated827. Go free; you're emancipated828.” Due to his authorized blether829 My conscience is as clear ether830; 15 Evil's been driven from my flesh. But now I'm yearning for some fresh Villainy and debauchery831, And I'm certain he will join me. 824 Matterhorn: the tallest mountain in the Alps 825 Heinous: unspeakable 826 Waiver: official intervention to bend the rules 827 Rehabilitated: mended one's ways and become a better person 828 Emancipated: free 829 Blether: senseless talk 830 Ether: a spiritual plane or matter; an early anesthesia 831 Debauchery: carnal corruption and immorality 288

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Guilt “You know, we've been here many times, But circumstances differed then. Oh, sure, I was still the warden, But you were yet one of my men. 5 You'd think someone who saw the way Electricity fried the brain And wracked832 convicts' steaming bodies Would have avoided such a pain. I'm puzzled why you murdered her; 10 Most of us used to envy you." "I didn't kill my wife, Warden!" "I wish I could believe that's true. Affix the diodes833 and wet them. There is a lesson that he must learn 15 For two minutes eighteen seconds Below the threshold where he'd burn834. Is everything set? Good. Please leave. I want to say goodbye in peace.” “What do you have to say to me? 20 Do you think you're some kind of priest? I've already had my Last Rites; I had nothing then to confess.” “I have no doubt you're innocent.” “Then, why would you let this progress?” 25 “Because it's better you than me. I was the one who took her life. She wanted to end our affair And finally be an honest wife. 832 Wracked: tormented 833 Diodes: electrical connectors 834 Two. . . burn: those who were electrocuted had the jolts run through their bodies for 2 minutes, 18 seconds. The power was turned up “slowly” to keep them from catching on fire. 289

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But I could never let that be, 30 So I took your gun from your desk. I'd sent you to run an errand To frame you for my deeds grotesque. I used my key to sneak inside. Her iron warmed o'er the fire835. 35 She'd brought clothes in off of the line, And I couldn't help but admire The flesh that I knew all too well. I called her name. She turned. I shot. She made a thump when she crumpled. 40 I grabbed the iron. It was hot, So I tossed it in the laundry, And threw your gun into the flames. I chuckled, knowing the victim'd Be the very one the court blames.” 45 “It was you? But you were my friend. I'll have your head for this, you beast!” “Such brave words, when you're soon to die... I didn't like it in the least To see you chained, persecuted, 50 And abused by those you guarded; To hear your name slandered through town; To frame the wellregarded. But maybe I did, and that's why I shall give you my sympathies. 55 While you urinate, vomit blood, And jerk, take my apologies.” “I'm innocent! This should be you! You're the demon that they're after!” “Plenty of innocent men die 60 This way, why should one more matter? 835 Iron. . . fire: oldfashioned irons were heated on woodburning stoves and fires. 290

More Heresies from Iyan Igma “Guards! Ignore his screams. Flip the switch. The devil, too, is a baker. He's trying to say I'm guilty. Let's send this liar to his maker.” 291

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Distant Fields of Heather “Away in distant fields of heather Across the sea, sat my old home. It's been burned by foreign men Who are now ashes, dust, and bone. 5 They made me lose my senses as They did the most hideous sin; For her I killed them all cruelly; I would kill them ten times again! In those distant fields of heather, 10 I lived in love and peace with all. My wife and I were still young then, And I had my dear baby Saul. While I was off labouring away, My loves found fiery, violent ends 15 At the hands of hellish demons Who were disguised as Englishmen. I returned home and was nothing; Fire'd destroyed what mattered in life— Not my things but my precious boy 20 And my violated, pure wife. Over the fields I tracked the dogs, Vowing that every neck I'd break. I only had to follow the Carnage836 and ash left in their wake. 25 What sort of scum who wears red coats Murder wee837 ones and then do worse To women and the elderly? In such thoughts my mind I immersed. Sentries would disappear on guard, 30 Found with necks broken and throats slit. 836 Carnage: the mangled mess of bloodied corpses left behind 837 Wee: tiny; little 292

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Those who lived and died by the sword Then began to sleep upon it. I heard them whisper about ghosts, Though it was I who haunted them. 35 Some sentries abandoned their posts For fear, but then they were ne'er men. Fires were started while they slept. The stench of burning human flesh Made me think of my loves who wept, 40 Who I could never more caress. How many in the company838 Were guilty I never did know. They all looked equally evil: Men without honour, hearts hollow. 45 They left Ireland victorious, For they'd come to torture and kill, And that is all that they had done. But I still hadn't got839 my fill. I followed them as best I could, 50 And some of them were reassigned. I've followed them to India; In the joy of their death I've dined. No bullet's fit for such a chest That would just be warmed by cold lead; 55 Though I've been amazed every time That I've seen that demons have bled. The far reaches of this old earth I've traveled at my own expense, Hunting traitors to God on sea, 60 In desert, and in jungle dense. I've scattered their bones in Africk, 838 Company: military group of about 100 men led by a captain 839 Got: [sic] 293

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And in the Caribbean Sea, And though they say vengeance is sweet, It only seems bitter to me. 65 I would have rather spent my life In those distant fields of heather, Watching my Saul become a man And loving my love forever. Just one soul has eluded me. . . 70 A knave who went AWOL840 long hence, Running from his inner demons, Which have followed him ever since. He went off to America, Since it is the land of the free. 75 On his death life will have no point; I think that I'll join the Army. After all, that's all I'm good for, Since demons now live inside me. I can never grow love again— 80 My fields are fallow841 and empty. I hunted them down one by one, And their bodies pollute the sod842. Now, years later you're the last one Who'll learn the fear of me and God.” 840 AWOL: absent without leave, having abandoned a military post 841 Fallow: barren 842 Sod: ground 294

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Still Space Left for Me Another night cold with my thoughts, The pinks into violets have fled. This flame once more haunts my walks— A light for those whose lights are dead, 5 The granite has rigor mortis, And nothing could make it more grim Than the list of names carved in blood, The roster of the fallen men, Patriots who in other lands 10 Once or twice fought for a good cause, Whose bravery earned them metal, Grenade's praise, and rifle applause. So many there and yet so few, Who can impugn843 their memory? 15 Relieved, I finally could smile, For there's still a space left for me. 843 Impugn: slander; dishonor; sully 295

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Enlisted Suicide No one will write a requiem844 Now I am dead and gone. They might say I died with honor, When in life I lived with none. 5 They haul me to a white headstone To mark an anonymous man Whose name is carved into a wall, Whose corpse is carved into the land. Someone might cry at my grave side 10 Hearing the guns' final salute, Although my spirit's satisfied, And my troubled body is mute. They fold a flag for a weakling, Though they claim he was “Army strong.” 15 They never knew his dark motives, And how he'd used them all along. They gave me a gun and grenades And sent me to the lines to die, But I went forth so happily. 20 Not e'en the bullet made me sigh. My only worry was that it Had made me a mere casualty, And my enlisted suicide Might have failed so miserably. 25 No one could fathom845 how much I Rejoiced to leave this earth at last; It's been a tortuous dungeon Since birth: Present, Future, and Past. 844 Requiem: a classical music funeral tribute 845 Fathom: judged; understand 296

More Heresies from Iyan Igma beautiful demise oh what a beautiful demise here beneath the burning skies tears trickle out from wounded men their spirits won't return again. 5 from the red corners of my eyes flesh and bones are supped on by flies and as i wait for death to come i thirst for water but have none. too weak to move beyond a blink 10 the cries and moans now start to sink i send a message on the wind full of a love which cannot mend. and far away my loved ones fret the only ones who won't forget 15 that i was more than just a name who died upon this bloody plain. and part of them is nigh to die, and they'll never comprehend why their chests will bear much deeper wounds 20 than all of us who'll be entombed. they'll need much more than whisp'ring winds, flags folded by reminding men the empty shots that chill their hearts. death hovers nigh; a new life starts. 297

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Hands That Bless and Do No Harm You are just a lonely widow, And I'm just a hand on the farm Who you think has beautiful hands, These hands that bless and do no harm. 5 You've hired me to tend the cattle And make me sleep inside the barn, And not a pillow is clutched by These hands that bless and do no harm. Something is creeping over me— 10 The power of a thunderstorm. Soon you will start to have doubts in These hands that bless and do no harm. A werewolf morphs beneath full moon, But lightning is my changing charm. 15 Talons and spines are sprouting from These hands that bless and do no harm. Hair is sprouting all over me And my skin is pierced by demon horns. My muzzle's tusks and fangs now match 20 These hands that bless and do no harm. I electrify the cattle And drink their blood while it's warm And butcher and devour with These hands that bless and do no harm. 25 I burst through the ranch house door; you're Full of paralyzing alarm. You do not recognize me or These hands that bless and do no harm. Now you see the secret disease 30 That keeps my mind and body warm. How much faith could you still have in These hands that bless and do no harm? 298

More Heresies from Iyan Igma You look at me like my mother Who cursed the day I was born 35 Demon spawn. She rests now thanks to These hands that bless and do no harm. Your shrieks are muffled by the night, You fight, and I yank off your arm And use it as a bludgeon in 40 These hands that bless and do no harm. You sob as I stand over you; Claws sink into your bloodied form. Now you know the tenderness of These hands that bless and do no harm. 299

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Croatoan The Algonquins846 are upon us Like gale strewn waves upon the shore, Intent to annihilate847 us. Through the trees silently they pour, 5 But whatever could be the cause, For we've done nothing to provoke? It's '88 without supplies;848 We're abandoned in Roanoke. The white men deserve this punishment 10 For the cruelty of years gone by When they came as foxes among us And proved all they could do was lie. On false charges they burned a chief And his village right to the ground. 15 Aquascogoc849 will be avenged, And their fair skin will all be browned. With the fury of wroth women They fought past the blasts of our guns. Through the smoke we saw their bloodthirst; 20 All too soon we were overrun. And then a star zoomed overhead With a presence that stilled us all. It hovered o'er us, lights blinking, Freezing the battle with fear's awe. 25 Croatoan!850 This could not be! 846 Algonquins: a Native American tribe in the area of the Roanoke Colony 847 Annihilate: kill 848 '88. . . supplies: There were 115 men, women, and children awaiting supplies and reinforcements from England. However, due to war with Spain, notably with the Spanish Armada in 1577, the supplies were not received until 3 years after promised. By that time, the colonists were no more. 849 Aquascogoc: the village the first set of colonists burned in what was undoubtedly the finest show of diplomacy known to man. 850 Croatoan: the only hint at what happened to the lost colony this cryptic word carved into a post in the fort, and the first 300

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The legends say it brought us here, Having taken us from afar; I cannot stem my wave of fear. We must warn our people this place 30 Is cursed, and we must not return. My fellow braves recognize it, And screaming its name we all run. The savages all seem quite spooked Fleeing, screaming "Croatoan." 35 Our guns have all ceased to function, And the whole fort now is glowing. Those of us who could tried to run; A comrade carved into a post The name of this eerie spectre, 40 And then I saw the pale gray ghost. It walked among the petrified851, And the ones it touched disappeared. Its oblong eyes stared cold at me, And then a pain in my head seared. 45 I followed men trying to flee Stumbling to the forest's haven852. The ghost was molten steel inside My head, and I was a craven853. With my knife I started to carve 50 Its dreadful name into a tree, But managed only CRO By the time the ghost's flash took me. I stayed hidden within the trees To know what Croatoan'd do. 55 A brilliant light shone from its gut three letters carved into a nearby tree. Would have been helpful if they'd left more of an explanation. 851 The petrified: ones who were frozen like they had been turned into stone 852 Haven: safety 853 Craven: coward 301

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Painting the whole area blue. I saw gray spirits walk around Touching those frozen to the core. There were some flashes in the trees, 60 And then the white men were no more. 302

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mongol Steppes Oh that a shaman854 could save me (And to think that I almost was one) From the cidkun855 that torment me At night and under the 7th sun856. 5 The Eternal Blue857 was tranquil858 When our army left to destroy, Thousands of hooves kicking up dust. What a gallant859 sight to enjoy! We camped at night, and all was well; 10 We dreamed of our swords bathed in blood, The skulls we would make cups out of860, And their dead bodies in the mud. But where I slept a noise was heard Like a yak being ripped apart861. 15 I felt darkness's oppression, Awaking with a panicked start. My dark eyes searched all around me Wishing the enemy was man, But assassins can't disturb you 20 With the power a spirit can. I turned my head to gaze about And looked down a beak into eyes Colder than the desert's stark nights, 854 Shaman: religious oracle for pagan religions like Tengrism, also known as witchdoctors 855 Cidkun: demons 856 7th sun: according to a myth which I seem to recall being Mongolian, there once were 7 suns, but a very skilled archer shot down the first 6. 857 The Eternal Blue: the sky, but also the supreme god 858 Tranquil: peaceful 859 Gallant: noble; brave 860 Skulls...of: the Mongols were vicious like me 861 Yak...apart: if you've never heard a yak be ripped apart before, then just know that it is not a particularly comforting sound, especially since you would wonder what beast would have the strength to do that... 303

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Of a killer who never cries. 25 The Eliye862 seemed satisfied By the terror etched on my face. The bird demon said, "You've been cursed," Which made him smile, the old scapegrace863. "They've placed the bone within your home864, 30 And you'll never outlive the effects." It cocked its head, with beak agape865, Studying me. "Heads won't have necks By the time this misfortune ends; Your men will be strewn in the sands, 35 And the ongghot866 souls will all say Their deaths were all upon your hands. Say goodbye to your Middle Earth867, And remember my warning: You've hours left, save you have grace; 40 I doubt that you'll see the morning." Seeing me petrified in bed, The devil's glee was evident. A crooked beak pecked at my eye, And so began my dark torment. 45 Suddenly, the shrieks of my men Split the night like swords cleave a head, Sword in hand, I raced to the din, Finding several men cruelly dead. Spears flew and swords bit furry flesh; 862 Eliye: birdshaped messenger demons 863 Scapegrace: a very bad, immoral person 864 Bone...home: shamanic curses were carried out by placing a particular bone inside the foundations of the enemy's home, usually without asking permission from the homeowner first 865 Agape: open 866 Ongghot: ancestraltype spirits 867 Middle Earth: humans live in the middle world between the underworld and the upper world 304

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 50 With one eye gone I now felt weak. But I fought with my able men As the blood poured down my left cheek. The corpses of black bears were lain On the ground; they would be devoured 55 As they had done to my soldiers Before they were overpowered. Panting, with a cold sweat flowing, And my breath freezing while I spoke, I sat down by the failing fire, 60 Glad to have my eye stung by smoke. I was still alive, the threat gone, Though my best commanders were dead. The beasts had not used them as food, But had come to kill them instead. 65 I made a bandage for my eye, And applying the cut cloth stang. I left the blood dried on my cheek, Trying to block the throbbing pain. I looked at the Seven Old Men868, 70 Wondering what secrets they know. I almost felt I'd turned to ice, Spite the fire, though no wind did blow. I looked down at the coals again And saw movement within the smoke, 75 A Teyirang869 was walking off. What ills would this demon evoke? I thought of the bears, of my men, And of the Eliye's fell870 threat. No one else would perish tonight; 868 Seven Old Men: what we know as the Big Dipper 869 Teyirang: demon 870 Fell: dark; evil 305

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 80 This evil curse I would upset. I chased the fiend871, dreading to see How and when it would manifest. It entered my own brother's tent; When I entered, he was possessed. 85 He lunged at me with Mongol speed, His fingers digging into skin, Trying to squeeze the life from me, Forgetting that I was his kin. Without thinking I plunged my sword 90 Into him like he were its sheath. His body collapsed, toppling me, And I pushed him off from beneath. I looked at his form, spirit's gone, And was filled with the utmost grief. 95 My brother lies dead at my hands, I cry now, thinking I would lief872 Take his place and not regret The acts performed by mere instinct When one's survival is threatened 100 And reason becomes indistinct. But there was scarcely time to mourn, For cries of death sounded through camp. An eerie mist had taken us; It was our blood that made it damp. 105 Within the mist strange lights wandered And when they would beset a man, He would be eviscerated873, And the wind his juices would fan. 871 Fiend: demon 872 Lief: gladly 873 Eviscerated: disemboweled; given a permanent colonic irrigation 306

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A light passed by in front of me 110 Like a cold comet through the sky, And as it turned I saw the flames That its body seemed to defy. It was an Albin874, blue tonight, Though tomorrow this site'd be black 115 With the coagulated blood From this new demonic attack. It paused, as if considering If it should end me and the fun, Then smiled, delighting in torment, 120 Freezing the marrow in my bones. It approached me like a headsman To a victim that can't flee, My face was painted blue with cold And from the Albin's demonry. 125 A few feet more and I would be Pulverized, my entrails flying And landing on some of my men. It was time to embrace dying. I held aloft the old Khan's875 sword 130 Which the shamans gave him bewitched. I charged at the demon to my death; The light merely flickered and twitched. Then, it was gone with all its creed876, Like wild horses speed through the night. 135 My men were bloodied and frenzied877; Many dismembered by the fright. I gathered my men, we broke camp, 874 Albin: a demon described as wandering lights 875 Khan: Mongol king or leader 876 Creed: kind 877 Frenzied: worked up in an emotional fit 307

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And headed home fearing the worst, For I'd told them part of the truth; 140 A demon told me I'd been cursed. We rode, the cold air stinging us, And riders vanished here and there, So we pushed our horses harder, Hooves pounding the grassland bare. 145 Albin wandered in the distance, Their spectral878 lights speeding our run. A sliver of gray split darkness, And we hoped that we would see dawn. I saw Adas879 circling the sky 150 Like vultures awaiting our death, Though I was sure they'd feed on us Long before our last, dying breath. The intensity built like the Last moments before battle starts, 155 For the sun was almost in view And its light would comfort our hearts. The sun had sent precursor880 heat. It seemed to hesitate almost, But finally molten fire rose. 160 And then chaos consumed my host. A thunder peal rolled long and loud, Drowning out our galloping steeds, That were skittish881 for they knew why The ground trembled like windblown leaves. 165 From out of the ground monsters flew, And many were my former men, 878 Spectral: ghostly 879 Adas: flying demons 880 Precursor: forerunner; predecessor; harbinger 881 Skittish: nervous 308

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Though now they were grotesque beings, Bones and sinew882 showing through skin. Men were falling from their horses 170 And slain by intangible883 ills Whose swipes and claws dismembered men Once known for their own monstrous kills. The Albin came 'pon us again, Decimating us like whirlwinds 175 While the grotesque Kolcin884 demons Pulled men apart like paper rends885. As the Ada swooped from the sky Like a locust plague on the plain Carrying men from their saddles 180 Up high to let them fall again, One Kolcin stood out from the rest, His moustached face how well I knew! My dead brother was in charge now. His gaze met mine. "I've come for you." 185 There was no need to tarry there, I pressed886 what men as I could onward, Sidestepping demons and slaughter So that we might venture homeward. We rode like we were weak maidens 190 Unarmed and fleeing for our lives. The men who galloped with me then Never made it to see their wives. The Albin blocked a straight course home And we were preyed upon by night. 882 Sinew: tendons 883 Intangible: untouchable 884 Kolcin: hideouslooking demons 885 Rends: tears 886 Pressed: urged 309

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 195 Somehow my sword protected me; Alone, I continue my flight. The Kolcin laughed to see me flee, Knowing that they'd enjoy the hunt. Vast grasslands I cross desp'rately 200 Hoping no demons to confront. By day across these Mongol steppes887 The Eliye's my company, Perched upon my horse's head, A reminder of destiny. 205 Little streams I sometimes cross, And wild horses roam here and there. Mountains seem always in my sight, Spectral visions are everywhere. The memory of the carnage wrought 210 Among the most fearless of men Plays itself out across the grassland Like a mirage of what has been. The Albin are drawing closer, And the Ada block out the sun. 215 Demons chase across Mongol steppes. How long until I become one? O, Gesar888 who slew the giant, The warrior's friend, befriend me, And drive away the misfortune 220 That this curse has placed upon me! 887 Steppes: largely treeless plains 888 Gesar: King Gesar is from the TurkoTibetanMongol mythology one of the three divine kings. He slew a multiheaded giant and is patron over the warrior 310

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Her Voice There was smoke within my dreams And leaves crunching like the bones An ogre chomps in desolate caves. The wind assaulted me like stones 5 Flung by the hands of an angry mob That the mist obscured889 from view. I tried to hide from its pelting890 chill, Wrapping tight my cloak coated in dew. Eerie screams seemed to haunt me 10 Like the regret from a bad choice, Though nothing was as soulrending As my lone niece's forlorn891 voice. She seemed to be out in the night, Seeking help like Echo892 sought love. 15 Her indistinct words were calling, Calling to my soul. The power thereof So plaintive893 Caesar would've moved894, Slew my sleep like innocent babes At the hands of Herod's fell men895. 20 I sprung up to fight off the knaves896. Where were the men, and where was she? Was I but plagued by midnight's fright? I left my caretaker's cottage 889 Obscured: hid 890 Pelting: striking; assailing 891 Forlorn: saddened 892 Echo: in Greek mythology Echo, after having been cursed by Hera, tried to get Narcissus to fall in love with her. She followed him around tirelessly. However, since she could only repeat what he said, he bored of her. 893 Plaintive: melancholy blue 894 So...moved: referring to a passage from Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, “I could be well moved, if I were as you. If I could pray to move, prayers would move me...” (Act 3, Scene 1) 895 Slew...men: see Matthew 2:16 896 Knaves: varlets; rapscallions; villains; rogues 311

More Heresies from Iyan Igma To check on my beloved halfwight897. 25 The mansion here was her father's; It was too much for a full sprite898. I walked through the trees I'd planted, But immortal eyes need no light. Finally, I reached the mansion door, 30 But it hung off of its hinges. I ventured inside, stomach sick At the stench from when flesh singes. I sprinted to her bedroom door, Stepping over her father's bones, 35 Collapsed ruins, flesh melted off. My mind was filled with somber899 tones. What would her open door reveal? I wished futilely900 she were fine. Magic won't make confidence grow, 40 Though I bewitched flow'rs all the time. Pus oozed from the walls and floorboards; There was surely infection here. My sister long dead; my niece gone, And her whereabouts are unclear. 45 I sank like a beaten chess king, Wishing to wake up from this dream. But tears and pain were all too real; Yellow eyes gained a vengeful gleam. I sprang to my house, grabbed my bow, 50 And started tracking the pusfilled spoor901. Sharp ears heard her voice calling me. 897 Halfwight: halfhuman 898 Sprite: class of elves 899 Somber: sad; gloomy 900 Futilely: vainly; uselessly 901 Spoor: trail 312

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Trap or not, I would take the lure. Roots seemed to jump up and grabbed me; Tree brothers warned I was too late. 55 They but made me hurry faster Like a fool trying to change fate. Her voice seemed to be everywhere, Now behind me and now ahead. She guided like a mortal star, 60 And adrenaline stilled902 my dread. These trees I roamed in youth like deer, Seemed malevolent entities903, Familiarity twisted By my nightmare's realities. 65 The mist I dreamed could touch me now, But it was I who gave it chill, For a resolve904 had born within, And my peaceful hands would soon kill. The voice had died; the woods were still, 70 The creatures breathless in suspense. I took my steps sure and softly; My sinewy muscles tense. A dark thing made the night seem fair, An evil shadow in the mist. 75 It sniffed the air and charged for me, A war hammer clenched in its fist. It snorted out a battle cry, And I heard a few more reply. His hulking mass nearly on me, 80 I let my arrow surely fly. 902 Stilled: calmed 903 Malevolent entities: evil or harmful beings 904 Resolve: determination 313

More Heresies from Iyan Igma It sang, piercing through hide armour, And a snout landed at my feet. The tusks were covered in spewed blood. I turned and let more arrows greet 85 Its comrades that were encircling; Thud by thunk by thud they all fell. I kicked the thing onto its back That I might glimpse its features well. I bent over. 'What beast is this? 90 Of such things I'd never heard tell.' I heard a whoosh pass right behind me, And I saw the trees served me well. Another dark guard was impaled905, Struggling and kicking where it hung. 95 Three red eyes bore down upon me, Then with blinding hatred it flung Its mace at me; I just dodged it. I put arrows through its four arms. "Where is the girl you have taken?" 100 I asked, my voice implying906 harm. It only gargled and cackled; I left it there to slowly die. I reached out to find my dear niece Using the sprite's pineal eye907. 105 She was alive, and it was dark. Her captors took her with great speed. I calmed her, trying to follow Wherever the evil tracks lead. A short distance I felt again 110 The disturbance in the woods. 905 Impaled: pierced through by a tree limb 906 Implying: hinting at 907 Pinealeye: the third eye, associated with extrasensory perception 314

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I crept on more stealthily now Like a thief making off with goods. I nocked an arrow, scouting out How many targets I must hit. 115 The trees gave way to a rock face. Bioluminescent908 moss lit The entry to an ancient cave. I could hear her voice echo out Like waves trapped in an old sea shell. 120 What would await me on this route? There just inside the cavern's mouth Two tusked axemen were standing guard. My arrows sang them a soft song For tonight they909 were death's grave bards910. 125 Behind them I could not detect Any more minions911 from this group. I'd have to get her ere912 someone Wondered what happened to their troops. The passage twisted down to hell, 130 For that's what this cave seemed to me. Stone split me from trees and flowers, And my flesh burned in agony. But the thought of my captive niece Made me sprint on despite the fire 135 That tried to melt my steely nerves. Spite the biting cold I perspire. My eyes adjusted to the dark; With newfound certainty I run. 908 Bioluminescent: a living thing that makes its own light 909 They: the arrows 910 Bards: entertainers; singers 911 Minions: servants 912 Ere: before 315

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But what dull light's now evident? 140 It's as if they had trapped the sun Inside a curtained cage. I slow, Creeping ahead to determine What lay at the passage's mouth And how many were the vermin913. 145 Strafing914 the edge, the dark rushed up From a gulf without end below. Stalactites915 dripped from the ceiling; Like this cavern, I felt hollow. Limestone dripped into my hair as 150 I traced the path across the night Straddled by a suspended bridge Whose sconces916 burned both high and bright. The wood planks spanning the chasm Led to a castle hewn from stone 155 Which cursed dwarves had etched from the cliff. Its ruler'd soon be overthrown. I spanned the parapets917 and found Dwarven yeomen918 clad in mail919. Their only weakness was their throat, 160 So they'd gurgle in blood to hell. Beneath them on the narrow ledge A squadron of dwarven axemen With halberds920 ready to destroy 913 Vermin: filthy creatures 914 Strafe: moving slowly sideways to get a better view or vantage point for an attack 915 Stalactites: mineral formations similar to icicles that hang from a cavern's ceiling 916 Sconces: torches; lanterns 917 Parapets: towers 918 Yeomen: bowmen 919 Mail: a type of armour that is made of interconnected steel rings, since wearing envelopes and postage stamps would be just silly 920 Halberds: axes 316

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Could have just as well worn their skin; 165 They were easy prey, up so close. My shafts flew fast as dwarves could fall. Not e'en an alarm was sounded. I might make it in after all. I began to cross the bridge, tense 170 Since the ground's always been below. I sway as the chasm's wind moans, Wishing the bridge wouldn't creak so. Halfway through a nightmare charged out Axe in hand from the keep's entry. 175 It roared, since my bow was faithful, But it921 could not kill this sentry. On it came, now a pincushion, Brandishing its axe full of rage. I grabbed a torch to parry it, 180 And let flames crispen its black face. Its axe fell like those dwarven guards; It howled like its soul I did rend922. But my glee fell with my torch down, Lighting an abyss without end 185 When it swatted it with mad claws That smote923 me to the swaying deck. Now enraged, it leapt upon me, Its fingers encircling my neck. My head was dangling o'er the edge. 190 Suffocation, burnt and hollow Sockets, and rancid924 pants cloud thought. Frantic, I bid it "Rest and grow," 921 It: the bow and its arrows 922 Rend: tear in two 923 Smote: struck; hit 924 Rancid: having a sour or rotten smell 317

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Like I would ensorcell925 my plants. My vision swam like drowning men; 195 The death vise926 loosened; I gulped air. It was sylvan927 to breathe again. Before I rolled the beast off me, I glanced one last time at its face, Which was bathed deep in the panic 200 Of knowing death brings no solace928, And there's no way to avoid it. I spared no sympathy for it. Had it not tried to destroy me? I am amazed its armour split, 205 For it lies engorging929 itself Like a storm cloud born rapidly. I never knew the garden spells Of which I'd failed to gain mast'ry Would work on animal flesh, too. 210 But this pitiful apprentice Could no longer watch in awe, For I heard a scream from my niece That jarred me back into action, Charging across the wooden planks 215 To the carved out, waiting castle With almost the speed the beast's flanks Grew out like fertilized kudzu930. My pounding steps and his great weight Proved too much for the old rope bridge, 925 Ensorcell: cast a spell on 926 Vise: grip; hold 927 Sylvan: relating to the forest, which is like heaven to a sprite 928 Solace: comfort 929 Engorging: becoming fat 930 Kudzu: a vine from China that grows with incredible speed, conquering all things 318

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 220 And it took the great plunge of fate. The suspension burst like mushrooms Trampled by malevolent931 feet, Some planks clattered against the sides As Destiny they rushed to meet. 225 I didn't look back to see it, Nor was a sickening splat heard But I knew the beast must wonder How a tragedy so absurd Could befall it spite its power, 230 For it was frozen, falling dead, Air resistance assaulting it, Although it weighed like solid lead. I pushed the image from my mind; I could suffer the same fate soon 235 If the rope I had frayed or snapped. Would the endless fall make me swoon932, Or would I be swallowed by night Wond'ring when the impact would come? I clung to the ropes, cleared my mind, 240 And thought of taking my niece home. Rope fibers bit into my hands, And splintered boards banged at my chest. Eyes burning like searing torchlight, I know that here I cannot rest. 245 My arms burned from the exertion933 By the time I climbed to the rim, Not looking down into nothing, Though impulse enshrined that cursed whim934. 931 Malevolent: evil; harmful 932 Swoon: pass out; faint 933 Exertion: effort; work 934 Whim: desire 319

More Heresies from Iyan Igma With my breath as fast and heavy 250 As armoured dwarves who'd run for miles My hand fin'ly reached the rock ledge. My aching muscles were all smiles. I reached up to haul myself o'er, And my hand sank around warm fur. 255 I looked up. Nose billowing mist, The cold creature's eyes screamed murder. It must have seen the other one Paralyzed, falling down below. I sighed as it brought its axe down 260 And once again said, "Rest and grow." I expected peace then and there, But the axe kept on coming down. I braced myself for a swift death, But how fiercely did my heart pound! 265 I knew my skull'd be laid open Like an egg struck by a cleaver, Spilling messily everywhere, Some bits splattering the reaver935. One moment passed, followed by two, 270 And I opened my much winced eyes To see that the axe had frozen But one inch away from its prize. My head intact, I sighed relief And heaved myself over the rim. 275 The statue guarded the abyss; His growing face was twisted grim. I stood up, dusting myself off, Sight spanning the pit's maw agape. I really hoped the dwarves had built 280 Some other means for our escape. 935 Reaver: one who chops something in two 320

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I patted its beastly shoulder, And ventured bow in hand inside, Sidestepping dwarven carcasses Scattered like flour sacks beside 285 A road a reckless cart had passed. The portcullis936 welcomed me on I heard my niece's voice faintly. Then, the innocent sound was gone. I ventured in with elven stealth, 290 Trying not to disturb more beasts. I found myself in a mead937 hall That long ago hosted wild feasts. But now the room was sedated938; The jesters939 and bards were no more. 295 Two hallways lead off to the sides, And ahead was a gilded940 door. Was she captive in a dungeon, Or put up in a servant's room? I doubted livery'd941 gird her; 300 This was surely a place of doom. Would she be in the king's chamber? I felt out with pineal sight Trying to find a connection And to tell her she'd be all right. 305 I'd never mastered this fine art, But I did feel my way to her, Unguarded in the king's chamber, 936 Portcullis: metal latticework gate 937 Mead: a beer made from honey 938 Sedated: calm and somber 939 Jesters: medieval standup comedians 940 Gilded: gold inlaid 941 Livery: the clothing of servants 321

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But every bit a prisoner. I felt her spark of childish hope 310 Soon to be drowned beneath despair Approaching like a tidal wave. My eyes drank in what she saw there Like a sailor freshly marooned942 Would scan the water's surface for 315 Another ship to rescue him As has happened with those before, And barring that, he looks for signs Of hospitable943 life thereon The island. The room was empty 320 Save for the dais's944 black throne Wrought in steel which was far too large For a dwarf. She stood still as death. A twisted look was on her face. I rushed, and she took her last breath. 325 She seemed to make a little smile Seeing that I had come for her, And then her flesh melted away From her bones, a sick, acid blur. I cried in horror so loud I 330 Barely heard the metallic clink. The drow945 ring! I stooped to grab it, Wishing that my mind wouldn't think. This mustn't fall in the wrong hands? But hadn't it already passed? 335 She should have never possessed it; I was the guardian, the last. 942 Marooned: abandoned on a deserted island 943 Hospitable: friendly or favorable for living 944 Dais: an elevated platform in a room 945 Drow: dark elves who lived in caves 322

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Hadn't I sworn it would never leave My presence or ever be worn? But hadn't I given it to her 340 Because I had been so forlorn946? But then, the drow were long since dead, I reasoned. What would be the harm? She could beat her mortality, Per the legends of this old charm. 345 I'd wanted her to remain, since I was the last of the wood sprites. But was this why she was kidnapped, And subjected to awful sights Like seeing her father murdered 350 And having her flesh melt away? "Oh, God, my dear niece, I've killed you! You should not have died here today!" "Indeed," a raspy voice echoed Around the room from behind me, 355 My head jolted around. I gasped, Horrified by what should not be. A drow mage with colours changing On his pale, ethereal947 skin Stood there. "But you were dead!" I cried. 360 Giving me a sinister948 grin, He replied, "Not so, for I trapped My being within that cursed ring. Though the alliance thought me dead, I have been waiting and plotting. 365 Centuries passed till she woke me, 946 Forlorn: sad; sorrowed more so than a person would be if they were just threelorn 947 Ethereal: ghostlike 948 Sinister: evil 323

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Freeing me from the ring she wore. I went to summon my creatures That I'd hidden away before. They were anxious for some blood since 370 They'd long hence been sealed in this mine. I told them where to find the girl So I could reclaim what was mine. You should have seen her all in sobs Thinking that this was a nightmare 375 And her dear uncle come'd save her And whisper to her, 'Love, there, there.' I thanked her, like I shall thank you, For a new reign of my power." My arrow flew, he disappeared, 380 Then, the room was filled with sour Smells and sulfur's pungent949 horror. From the roof slime began to fall. Something akin to scorpions Bred with snakes oozed out from the wall. 385 With multiple stingers flashing, They eyed me with ravenous glee. Arrows flew like diving falcons, But bounced off their scales noisily. I ran, just to find the door blocked; 390 I would soon be the creature's feast. I shot out their eyes, blinding them, Summoning my enchanted beast. I had no hopes that it would come, E'en though it was in my power. 395 I told the creatures to wither, But they were not weeds or flowers. Desperate, I tried rest and grow, 949 Pungent: bitter; acrimonious 324

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But although they grew well all right, They kept circling, growing larger, 400 And were quite a hideous950 sight. Then, one burst just like a melon When it's rotten and overripe. I told the rest to grow again, And was covered in blood and tripe. 405 But one of them remained, annoyed And far larger than it should be. Its forked tongue tried to figure out Where the creatures' entrails951 hid me. Disgusted, but I dared not move; 410 Then, my own beast burst through the door. A grotesque battle then ensued, Wrestling to the death in sick gore. I took hope, for my beast strangled The fiend, which thrashed about limply. 415 When the flailing finally stopped, He tossed it aside quite simply. I wasted no time, springing for The door that was hanging ajar. And the beast trailed on behind me 420 Like a lost and forgotten star. The drow mage would be here somewhere, And how on earth could I get out? As I pondered which way to go, Behind me I heard the beast shout. 425 'Twas the sound of a dying thing; And it made my hackles to rise. My soul was chilled; I turned to see Vitality dimmed from its eyes. 950 Hideous: grotesque; horrid 951 Entrails: bowels; intestines 325

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Its flesh began to melt away, 430 As I had seen my niece's do. Bones collapsed from their inert952 state, Making a sick plop in its goo. And there beyond was the monster Poised to deliver me from life. 435 I ran down a darkened tunnel Wishing I had an axe or knife. I heard it slither after me, Taking its time to do its job. My feet sped on, for I'd not be 440 Yet another putrescent953 blob. A gust of wind cut through my hair; I rejoiced, thinking that I'd found Refuge954 from this polluted cave Where trees'd protect me above ground. 445 And suddenly the path ended, But there was no escape for me. The abyss stretched out before me And death approached casually. I felt around for some handholds, 450 But the wall was polished and sheer. The thing was in striking distance, And I was bathed with dying's fear. I hoped that my magic would save me, Though it's weak when sealed955 from the sky. 455 I bid it rest and grow once more; Instead, a stinger stabbed my thigh. I felt like hot radiation 952 Inert: motionless 953 Putrescent: rotten 954 Refuge: safety 955 Sealed: separated; blocked off 326

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Were burning a course throughout me. The mutation of the creature 460 Into the drow mage I could see. My flesh began to melt away; I think as the fell one draws near, 'My niece, what have I done to us? I have killed the both of us, dear.' 465 My pain receptors are buzzing Like an angry, disturbed beehive. I would have started convulsions If I'd not ceased to be alive. 327

La Extranjera

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Fresh Obsidian I'd met her earlier this year When her daughter entered ESOL956. My how much things change when it's spring, And some months have passed since the fall! 5 She was a simple957 woman, trim, With short black hair and golden skin. Her eyes were fresh obsidian958— You could still feel the warmth within. She brought her daughter Ping with her, 10 And from Chinese Ping did translate Her request to learn more English. Why is it that I hesitate? I really do not have the time; Is it just for a pretty face? 15 By plastic standards959 it's not so, But I suffer for silk and lace. When asked before960, I have declined; Why am I compelled to agree? When I give my answer, scared eyes 20 Thank me oh so wholeheartedly. "The price? Well, we'll see if it works. If so, then we can talk turkey961." I can't say, "To hear your soft sighs, Is more than enough pay for me." 956 ESOL: English for Speakers of Other Languages, or ELL, a school program to teach foreign children English. 957 Simple: not in the ugly or dumb sense, but in the sense that she didn't try to put on airs. She was not proud or showy 958 Obsidian: dark black rock created from lava. 959 Plastic standards: the fallacious standards of beauty that society now uses to make women think that their anatomy must be enhanced and fake and altered 960 When asked before: to teach private English lessons 961 Talk turkey: settle the details of the price 329

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Heart is Clairvoyant Mark Twain962 would have a better chance Of genuine sincerity, Of speaking without sarcasm, Of using loving clarity, 5 Of being genteel963, kind, and nice, Of using words that do not bite, Than is possible for me to Fall deeply in love at first sight. So what has changed the way I am 10 To believe a first sight's love's true? Simply put, I only needed One miraculous sight of you. And though my mind cannot explain The how and why of my passion, 15 I can't deny the way the heart Is clairvoyant964 in its fashion. 962 Mark Twain: one of my favorite authors, who happened to be fairly bitter, biting, sarcastic, and satirical. On a good day. 963 Genteel: polite and gentlemanly 964 Clairvoyant: able to see the future and/or receive impressions 330

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Subtle Missteps I'm sure at least five times a day You're filled with exasperation965 By the wording of what I say, Since something's lost in translation. 5 I'm sure you regard my replies With the same curiosity As I do when I must surmise966 Meaning spite viscosity967. And still despite the barrier 10 That will fall like the Berlin Wall, Our friendship's none the wearier, Finding no toil968 in this at all. Indeed, it's quite amusing when Our subtle missteps have sprung traps. 15 We vow it won't happen again, But our logic tells us, "Perhaps." It is truly quite endearing, The patience you must have for me. Conversely, you are inspiring, 20 How you learn so diligently. 965 Exasperation: frustration 966 Surmise: guess 967 Viscosity: friction; an impasse; a barrier 968 Toil: labor, effort 331

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Intricate Porcelain As flashcards flash before your view, And my mind flashes sights of you, Which fill me with felicity969, I must doubt the validity 5 Of my recent romantic fall; I fell too quickly, after all. I'd hate for my soul to be slain By an intricate porcelain Doll. Though my love I try to bilk970, 10 How can I not pine for soft silk? It's not sexual or fleeting, My desire. You're so intriguing And thoughtful, playful, pure, and sweet. I love you more the more we meet. 969 Felicity:] 970 Bilk: stop 332

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Em Sonhos I've never been one to sleep well; Nightmares and false dreams I'd eschew971. After all, there were many more Enjoyable things I could do. 5 But that all changed when I met you; You taught me to believe in dreams. For there I find your replica And all is far too real, it seems. I can feel your hand within mine, 10 Your warm visage972 pressed to my face, And I'm filled with euphoria973, Though it was just a small embrace. But the night is not long enough, For what am I supposed to do 15 When I can't talk to you in dreams Or smell your fruit scented shampoo? I cling to the night's soft mem'ries, Think of you, and hum the day through, Wondering how it can be that I 20 Scarcely know you, yet I miss you? I wait for your calls and emails, Decomposing till you compose. I try to keep replies formal, But I'm sure my crush on you shows. 971 Eschew: forbid; avoid 972 Visage: countenance; face 973 Euphoria: extraordinarily strong joy 333

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Favorite Author Don't worry about your grammar, Your syntax974, or lovely accent. Your words make me so I stammer, And it is not by accident. 5 You are my favorite author, Jane, Spite the elegant ones I love, Who speak of life and love and pain, And other things quite unheard of. But you with your broken English 10 And unconjugated verbs still Can more completely embellish975 Simplicity to make it real. Your words have such tender meanings, Like a child first learning to talk; 15 Yet they send my heart careening976 Like the child first learning to walk. I've never heard such poetry As what you read and say to me So simply and so elegantly, 20 Without e'er meaning it to be. When did you write me poetry? With each syllable you uttered, Which have made China dear to me. You know not how my heart's fluttered! 25 You fill with emotion and might More than poets dead long before. I feel like I live when you write, And that is what reading is for. 974 Syntax: the arrangement of words (more or less.) 975 Embellish: make ornate; decorate 976 Careening: traveling madly and out of control 334

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ostra "What have I been working on now? A simple, poetic story. About what? By all means read it. Learn of an oyster in the sea. 5 He had a precious pearl to give That he'd been growing many years. It was pretty and valuable, But his uncertainty and fears Kept him from giving it away, 10 Although he'd met the perfect one. Patiently he got to know her, And soon enough his heart was won. Despite his love, he still had fear Of giving her the pearl too soon, 15 Since of her love he did not know, And she might think him a buffoon. Yes, it stops there. How should it end? Should he continue to grow it? Do you think she wants his pearl?" 'In 20 The poem you find the poet.' 335

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sensual Bites I never knew how sensual977 Teaching you simple verbs like "eat" Could be, but something physical Happened when our hands chanced to meet. 5 Your hand in mine, I then explained What it meant to "grab" an "apple." Touching your hand, my pulse has changed, And with emotions I grapple978. I guide the fruit to your soft lips 10 And teach you the simple verb "bite." I'm quite surprised that nothing979 rips, Since my heart pounds with awesome might. I envy980 the apple which knows How enticing your lips must taste. 15 Why's it I'm the one who swallows? I long to kiss you now posthaste981. I see why our first parents982 fell— You're losing your innocence, too, Because of the way our hands feel 20 And the way that I look at you. 977 Sensual: very emotionally stimulating, especially in a sexual manner 978 Grapple: wrestle 979 Nothing: nothing in the chest, such as the heart 980 Envy: be jealous of 981 Posthaste: immediately, hurriedly, right now 982 First parents: Adam and Eve, who, as the rumour goes, partook of an apple 336

More Heresies from Iyan Igma On Chopsticks Till the end of eternity (Or maybe the day right after) The memory will stay with me Of your precious, subtle laughter— 5 That is, the way you smiled so coy983 Trying to let me save my face (Knowing not how great was my joy At lacking all semblance984 of grace.) It's graven985 in the book of life, 10 A permanent reminder of How one used to a fork and a knife Can't help but want to fall in love With a woman with chopstick skills Who likes my inability 15 With them, and delights not in frills986, But in peaceful felicity987, Which she has given to my heart By being a unique wonder Blessed with a diplomatic art, 20 Charm for skin, and beauty under988. 983 Coy: flirtatious but reserved 984 Semblance: appearance 985 Graven: engraved; carved into 986 Frills: luxuries, needless things 987 Felicity: happiness 988 Beauty under: she's beautiful inside because of her personality, etc. 337

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Nothing is so Aesthetic How difficult 'tis to explain What we feel in the socalled heart. Some things you can only express And feel and understand through art. 5 Therefore I take your hand in mine, And with slow movements we create An abstract of how sensual989 This moment is, how intimate. For now I'm fully behind you, 10 Both of my arms stretching down yours, My head rests upon your shoulder, And we both sense the great allure990 Of making an art without paint An forming an unsculpted bliss, 15 For nothing is so aesthetic991 As a vibrant, passionate kiss. Images painted the wildest Colours, too surreal992 to be true Begin symbolize what my mind and 20 Heart paint when I think about you. 989 Sensual: physically appealing and stimulating 990 Allure: sense of enticement; temptation 991 Aesthetic: appealing to our sense of beauty 992 Surreal: fanciful; too wild to be true 338

More Heresies from Iyan Igma With New Luster It was just an innocent dance In the park—part of the lesson. Plenty of space kept us apart, And I vowed it wouldn't lessen. 5 How was I supposed to have known We'd have such strong polarity993? I tingled when your hands touched mine. Love gives off electricity. I'm sure we danced, but can't recall994 10 Anything more than your face. Your eyes took on a new luster; You shone like stars from outer space. You smiled as I had never seen, And a mutual bond was forged. 15 I never wanted to let go, Having let my heart be engorged995. 993 Polarity: magnetism, attraction 994 Recall: remember 995 Engorged: made large 339

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Risonanza Like so many other lessons We learned by doing and living. How does a man tell a beauty She's all he e'er thinks about? Sing. 5 The only times I feel alive Are when you are nearby me, Jing. The song conveys that I love you, Differently than how you love Ping. Love, you strike a resonant chord 10 With me in this world used to C, And though we may seem flat or sharp To some, we are in harmony. 340

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sunset Frames The wind is gliding through your hair, While the water sneaks by beneath. The way the sunset frames your head Gives you quite an angelic wreath. 5 The sheet's996 held taut by knotted ropes; There's also a knot in my throat. Charon997, do you now ferry me To paradise on your sailboat? Skipper, come and take my heart's helm; 10 I'll trust in your piloting skills. I pray the scuttlebutt's998 not known That your figurehead gives me chills. 996 Sheet: sail 997 Charon: the one who ferried to souls of the dead across the river Styx into Hades 998 Scuttlebutt: rumour 341

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Eliciting Electricity Fresh mint from the garden you grow Gives your breath desirous savour, As my tongue your full lips follows, Enjoying their honey flavour. 5 A million stimuli react, Numbing the brain with soft passion. Its fantasies have become fact; Longing hearts have satisfaction. Sensations one can only feel 10 Elicit999 electricity. My knees are weak, and my head reels, But I've never been so happy. Our lips part with a gentle pull, And neither wants this kiss to end. 15 My neck is bent and my arms full, And we kiss again and again. 999 Elicit: create or cause 342

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Rechristened The mountain water's cool, and we Stick our toes in repeatedly, Paralyzed by our fears of cold And the pain felt previously. 5 It's like the love we now foster, Though we know it's pleasant and warm And would love to jump in straightway, We're afraid of failing and harm. Perhaps you'd see my weaknesses; 10 I'm not golden as I glistened, But I can overcome foibles1000 Should your love make me rechristened1001. The water and love lap over The rocks' rough edges down below 15 But if you would just give them time They'll make them smooth as a plateau. Don't fret1002, for even should I find Impossible imperfections In you, they can't dull your luster 20 Or vaporize my affection. Why is love so complicated, Though it's initially simple? Can we keep simple love alive Like faith's maintained in a temple, 25 And be happy as young lovers Unexposed to the world always? Won't they make some preservative So that you can remain this way? 1000 Foibles: weaknesses 1001 Rechristen: give me spiritual rebirth and a new name 1002 Fret: worry 343

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But I know that it's for the best 30 To be cold in this mountain spring; For we'll appreciate warmth more, And to each other we shall cling. 344

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Fields of Spring Ping is running through fields of spring Which visit mountain meadows last1003. No birds can match how my heart sings To have you to myself at last. 5 Daffodils and such wildflowers Surround our picnic location. I could spend endless blithe1004 hours With you in this pure elation1005. We've had so much to learn about 10 While hiking these rolling mountains, Seeing burbling brooks full of trout, Playing in cascades and fountains. But I've learned more than anything That, though hearts are a fist in size, 15 Love immeas'rable takes dwelling In mine and serves to tantalize1006. 1003 Visits. . . last: in high mountain meadows spring may come in July or August, judging by when everything blossoms and flourishes 1004 Blithe: happy 1005 Elation: state of happiness or euphoria 1006 Tantalize: 345

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Obeisance I hear the crickets calling “Come a little closer near,” For they long to see your beauty, Since the mere glimpse of you here 5 Has caused them to be awestruck1007, And they can no more than sing A serenade1008 to the goddess Who's paralyzed their legs and wings. The sun laments the curtain 10 And the crook pulling it offstage1009 Home to the weary mistress Who's bored him for an age, Since he spied you down below And you make his performance shine. 15 He is hoping to impress you, But he knows that you are mine. The stars are winking at you now, And you make the moon to glow. His prana1010 and light kiss you 20 With the cool touch of photon snow1011. The trees are swaying on their knees, Trying hard not to faint. The wind is singing, "Ave!"1012 to you, For you are True Love's Patron Saint. 1007 Awestruck: overcome with awe and emotion; completely amazed 1008 Serenade: a soft song 1009 Crook. . . offstage: when certain acts have been on stage too long in old cartoons, someone would take a shepherds crook and literally pull them offstage. 1010 Prana: life force or energy 1011 Photon snow: light waves differ in energy due to photons, which might be oversimplified as the matter which makes up light. Moonlight is usually pale like snow. 1012 Ave!: Latin term of praise 346

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 25 The owl stutters to know your name; He inquires1013 it, "Whoo, whoo, whoo, whoo?" The bats are flying blindly Having caught a brilliant glimpse of you. Moss is drooling despite itself. 30 Rabbits are sitting tranquilly,1014 Wishing that clover looked so good And tasted so scrumptiously. Deer give you obeisance,1015 And flying birds call salutes. 35 Vines proffer their untamed berries, And laden trees offer you their fruits, While I offer you my love Beyond what words can say, Promising to spoil you ever, 40 To worship and cherish you each day. And like the flora and fauna1016 Enchanted and subdued by you, I relish1017 your every moment And long to walk the whole night through. 45 For your soft hand rests within mine, And your aura1018 guides my feet along. I never knew divinity Was also produced in Hong Kong. 1013 Inquires: asks 1014 Tranquilly: peacefully 1015 Obeisance: loyalty, obedience 1016 Flora and fauna: plants and animals 1017 Relish: cherish 1018 Aura: the spiritual light a person gives off 347

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pela Luna We lie upon a moonlit quilt With the ruse1019 of studying stars And the spatial wonders God built. We are far from the noise of cars. 5 The night is cool enough for you To have an excuse to be near, Which sharpens every sombre1020 hue And makes each light ten times as clear. The stars wink at me knowing well 10 That love's a secret in my chest. I smile at them, but cannot tell You. Soft1021, now you peacefully rest. Your visage1022 framed with sparkly dew Has a halo1023 that dims the moon's. 15 I whisper softly, "I love you." Nature plays my heart's favorite tunes. How I wish to spend every night With you, if only to admire The dulcet1024 I long to hold tight. 20 Having you near's my one desire. 1019 Ruse: disguise, excuse 1020 Sombre: blue, sad, dark 1021 Soft: quiet (an interjection) 1022 Visage: face 1023 Halo: a crown of light surrounding a person's head 1024 Dulcet: sweet [woman] 348

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Supernoval Light Were my love a constellation, 'Twould seem as if 'twere day tonight, For the stars would fill the whole sky With endless supernoval light. 5 'Twould not be as hard to discern1025 As the love I keep hidden here 'Neath the ribs and flesh that now live Because you're so perfect and near. The stars twinkle in amazement, 10 Unable to believe their eyes At the beauty of you and love That they witness from lonely skies. I would never learn the star's names, Since my eyes would be fixed below, 15 Admiring the gentle aura Of your spirit's angelic glow. Mesmerized1026 to see your visage1027 That always inspires me and fills Me with a transcendental love 20 Like the dew which from heav'n distills1028. 1025 Discern: distinguish 1026 Mesmerized: hypnotized, put into a trance 1027 Visage: face 1028 Distills: 349

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Corozonal Jardin She grows a garden in my heart With tender care and devotion, And nothing that she grows is tart1029; It flourishes just like Goshen1030. 5 Preservatives and chemicals Find no employ; her thumb is green. Eagerly, rare and beautiful Plants flourish, which few eyes have seen. She cultivates per ancient art; 10 The fruit varies by the season. Being clean and pure from the start, The savour's sweet. She's the reason. Her words and sighs are like the breeze, And she is sunshine incarnate1031. 15 They genuflect1032 upon their knees And offer her a coronet.1033 Ah, yes, indeed, she rules them well, And they blossom only for her. It's a shame these flow'rs cannot tell 20 Her how she fills them with wonder. But, methinks, she already knows, Since she can perceive their beauty. For her alone each blossom grows, A weak mirror of what's pretty. 1029 Tart: bitter 1030 Goshen: a fertile area near the Nile where the Jewish slaves lived in Egypt, which was not affected by the plagues of Egypt 1031 Incarnate: in the flesh 1032 Genuflect: bow down in a kneeling position to show respect to a sovereign 1033 Coronet: crown 350

More Heresies from Iyan Igma False Decency How difficult 'tis to express The primal1034 language of the heart— Not because we could only guess At how those words would even start. 5 I know how deeply I love you, And I would tell you, but I fear That would be the worst thing to do, When your friendship to me's so dear. They say that the most intimate 10 And successful mates were best friends, Long before they did gravitate1035 To soul kisses and holding hands. But no matter how auspicious1036 For love being best friends might seem, 15 Losing you would be pernicious1037. So, to enjoy our friendship's dream, The clear, emotional rapport1038, Such tender sensuality, I fear to ask that we were more, 20 Mindful of the propriety1039. It is not fit that such as we Should fall in love, for age and race Demand we mind false decency, Lest we incur a great disgrace. 25 But if love is as old as time And our spirits never begin, 1034 Primal: beastly, base 1035 Gravitate: move toward 1036 Auspicious: favorable, fortunate 1037 Pernicious: awful, horrible, tortuous 1038 Rapport: relationship, bond 1039 Propriety: society's blind and imposed rules on what seems right and wrong 351

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Propriety's a bigger crime, Since denying our love's a sin. 352

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Winter Beguiled April days after it storms When the air is fresh and cool, With vapors rushing to heav'n So that more storms they can fuel, 5 These days so calm and pleasant Where the heat won't scorch mankind, And the temp'rature's just right To love with the heart and mind, When the Summer's kept at bay 10 And Spring has Winter beguiled1040, When the Self trapped in the flesh Longs to live and love quite wild, And cells bask to be alive, Giving passion to what's real 15 And faith to dreams realize Is how you make me feel. 1040 Spring. . . beguiled: the Spring has tricked Winter and its coldness to go somewhere else for a change 353

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Soy Tu Girasol I follow your arc through the sky So that I can bask in your rays Offering you yellow petals That possess slim chance to amaze 5 Someone as radiant as you are Who has set my gray world ablaze, Causing me to grow upright, and Be unable to break my gaze From you, for it's to Solaris1041 10 That every sunflower gives praise. 1041 Solaris: the sun 354

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sweet Improbabilities I can't quite explain to my mind (That's more logical than my heart) The strangest feelings that I find When we're together or apart. 5 Why on earth does my soul whisper Such sweet improbabilities, Making you ruby or jasper, Urging me to idolatries1042? Such words as surge up in my breast 10 Make me blush when in your presence. I try to ignore their behest1043, But they beat to a sweet cadence1044. They entice, though I can't explain Why my surprised heart feels it best 15 To want to say such things to Jane. "Mei Jing, come rest cuddled to my chest. Let me explain life's mysteries, Even the Shakespeare you hated. We'll learn passionate histories, 20 And thus our hearts will be sated— Even should you not understand— Because we would be together." Then, you would take me by the hand, And we'd study love forever. 1042 Urging me to idolatries: making me want to worship you 1043 Behest: plea, petition, suggestion, 1044 Cadence: rhythm 355

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Love's Germination Love is an endangered species Of a flowering orchard tree, Whose fine pollen's carried by breeze, Fertilizing haphazardly1045. 5 What a delicate seed is born From which the tow'ring tree can grow— And should it take a tiny dorm, It's still love, and hasn't changed, though We would scarcely believe it so! 10 In shallow earth it germinates1046, And the roots start stretching below. Toward the sun it gravitates, And a solitary leaf sprouts. Though tiny, nonetheless it's love, 15 Albeit there are those with doubts, Since it's not standing high above. But all their doubts can't change its kind:1047— It's love and can but grow or die. Somehow these fools delude1048 their mind 20 That just the tree will satisfy. But that tree matures over time And not instantaneously. Yet as the tree grows to its prime, It gladdens those with eyes to see 25 And appreciate its beauty. These rare souls are often alone To see it flourish so fully, Bearing the sweetest fruit e'er known. 1045 Haphazardly: without care, here or there 1046 Germinates: sprouts 1047 Kind: species, type 1048 Delude: deceive, beguile, lie to 356

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And only those that cultivate 30 The wild seedlings they discover Have a chance to appreciate Love's flowers and fruits forever. Though now our love's fledgling and green, Should I deny that it exists? 35 Watching its growth is quite serene; On its fruit I'd love to subsist. 357

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Perennials The winds of life scattered our seeds And then went on hiatus1049, Leaving us to blossom until Time's bees could pollinate us. 5 We bloomed each year as best we could Waiting for the bees to find us, We were strong, proud perennials1050, As each winter reminds us. And then the miracle occurred, 10 Which we'd hoped for many years, We were crosspollinated, And I can scarcely hold my tears. We're typical for our species, Just ordinary flow'rs, 15 But we've made a hybrid1051 beauty When combined by love's great pow'rs. 1049 On hiatus: on vacation 1050 Perennials: flowers and plants that return year after year, winter after winter 1051 Hybrid: mixed 358

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Probably Paraphilia This must be paraphilia,1052 For this strange love I have for you Causes the queerest1053 emotions, And long hence1054 my sane sense withdrew. 5 Society could ne'er accept A love so complete and devout, That's unconditional within And honest and open without, That puts you above all concerns— 10 And even life itself to me— Whose only selfish desire's to See you spoiled in felicity1055. The world can't accept true love, But why should that matter to me? 15 I don't accept their cold blindness. You are all that matters to me. 1052 Paraphilia: a catchall word used in society to describe any type of love or attraction which is not socially acceptable, such as true love. 1053 Queerest: strangest 1054 Hence: go 1055 Felicity: happiness 359

More Heresies from Iyan Igma From Silence and In Between There's so much I don't know about, Though I've learned about all the world. But part of me just wants to pout That the mystery's not unfurled1056. 5 What's the enigma1057 that perturbs1058 My mind that has long been prided In finding out all it disturbs? It's that, though you have provided Some little hither thither clues 10 About who you are and your past, No matter how much I peruse1059 Them, I am stuck at an impasse1060. Lo, I know next to nothing of You. Is that what makes it easy 15 For this conundrum1061 I call love To completely liberate me? I know so little about you, And I wonder if that matters? You're mysterious through and through, 20 Which somehow completely flatters. Maybe it's because I love to learn, And each day I'd struggle to glean1062 The hope and truth for which I yearn1063 From your silence and in between. 1056 Unfurled: revealed 1057 Enigma: mystery 1058 Perturbs: bothers 1059 Peruse: study 1060 Impasse: barrier, obstacle 1061 Conundrum: mystery 1062 Glean: to pick up the fragments left from the harvest 1063 Yearn: desire 360

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Further I'm always amazed with each step Further1064 into the inner realms Of your undespoiled1065 confidence. The power implied overwhelms, 5 For when has a man ever been Permitted to make it thus far? More have found the rainbow's end Or soared through space to touch a star. What is it about me that makes 10 You not hesitate to reveal The myst'ries shrouded in your past And naked sentiments1066 you feel? By this I know that you love me; Otherwise you'd not let me go 15 Traipsing1067 through your sacred gardens And see your stars from down below. With each step into your labyrinth, I see wonders painted and etched Into the walls you lead me through. 20 I am led on by the love you fetched, Which guides me closer to the end Of this your darkling1068 confusion To where I can finally see The real you and not illusions 25 Crafted through emotion's prisms And holographs that you project Wishing that others would believe, 1064 Further: more; additional 1065 Undespoiled: virgin; unexplored 1066 Sentiments: feelings 1067 Traipsing: walking 1068 Darkling: mysterious 361

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Although they lack warmth and depth. And each time I wax1069 frustrated 30 And have my doubts about the prize, Wond'ring why I've undertaken To unravel your knit disguise— Puzzling out the unfath'mable1070— A secret door emerges from 35 The walls of illusions, and my Perspective changes and succumbs1071 To intrigue and hope for how deep Must be the tenderness you hide Behind these endless shifting walls, 40 The gargoyles and façades1072 of pride, And tangled mess of corridors Replete1073 with snares to trap my feet. Your love's challenge spurs me on a Quest we both wish me to complete. 45 What prize awaits me at the end Is worth more now than at the start, For the process endears1074 you to Me, just as I shall win your heart. Had I found you at the onset 50 I would have never been prepared To cherish you, not knowing why, And to love me you'd still be scared. 1069 Wax: grow; become 1070 Unfath'mable: the unknowable; impossible to understand 1071 Succumbs: gives in 1072 Façade: an empty or fake front or image 1073 Replete: full of 1074 Endears: causes love for 362

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Anjo I joke too much, I know 'tis true, But I can't make my feelings known, For they would only frighten you, Should my love's tenderness be shown. 5 And so I joke to mask my soul's Veneration1075 of perfection, But sometimes I dig my own holes, Since you destroy concentration. Your voice is the most beautiful 10 Concerto my ears have e'er heard. Your countenance1076 makes my breast full; You rapture1077 me without a word. And so fighting all your powers And the love that keeps bubbling through, 15 Oft' I trample your soul's flowers, Which is a grievous thing to do. Indignantly1078 you ask of me, "What kind of person I look like?" But how can I not speak frankly, 20 Since you turn me into a tyke? The next time you ask, it might prove To be the occasion I fall And tell you, "The angel I love, The most mature beauty of all, 25 The wondrous woman I adore, The enchantress who clouds my mind, The love I'll cherish ever more, The greatest treasure I could find, 1075 Veneration: respect, adoration 1076 Countenance: appearance, face 1077 Rapture: to be caught up in joy 1078 Indignantly: 363

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The sweetest being alive, 30 The source of happiness in life, The strength that makes me onwards strive, The woman I want for a wife." 364

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Living Feicui I see why it's called fine China; Delicate, beautiful, priceless Are words which can't pay the homage1079 Due to you, my Sino1080 princess. 5 You're the finest import I've seen Come from China, and just like silk You're soft and have a soothing sheen, But you're far sweeter than rice milk1081. I wonder what the tariff is 10 For a jewel intricately made For me. You are living Feicui1082; Your voice is the tinkling of Jade. 1079 Homage: reverence; deference 1080 Sino: Chinese 1081 Rice milk: personally, rice milk is far sweeter than soy milk 1082 Feicui: 翡翠 (imperial green jade) 365

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pièce de Résistance Could I but trap the expression You now give me and I to you, If passion'd not talk secession1083 But remain e'er constant and true, 5 Could your eyes still glow with the fire Of love that shames the sun's fusion,1084 If the essence of my desire Showed not as shades of confusion, If your sheer grace and elegance 10 And the tenderness locked inside Could be a painted extravagance On canvas, plaster, or animal hide, Then such would be a masterpiece I'd be content to keep in my 15 Own museum worth more than all these Trinkets1085 in the Louvre1086 and Versailles1087. Those works and sculptures are empty, Since they lack the grandeur of life. You can't be saved artistic'ly; 20 You could be revered1088 as my wife. I'd need not art or imprints then, For sentiment paints on our soul. Throughout the thick and thin, You'd be a masterpiece I'd extol1089. 1083 Secession: rebellion, separation 1084 Fusion: the process by which the sun makes 2 atoms combine to form a larger atom (Hydrogen to Helium.) In the process light and heat are given off. 1085 Trinkets: useless bits and pieces of whatnot. 1086 Louvre: a worldrenowned art museum in Paris 1087 Versailles: the estate where King Louis XIV built a palace; there are many sculptures in the garden 1088 Revered: honored, respected, loved 1089 Extol: praise 366

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mei Beautiful What's this? It's just something that I scribbled out before you came. I was thinking about you, Rather, which was your preferred name1090. 5 May you see it? Well, I guess so, Although I'd really rather not. It's not just because it's English, But for fear of hearing your thought. Yes, Jane, I'll hand it to you now, 10 You know that I cannot resist Even your smallest suggestion; You rule me with a tender fist. I see that1091 raised your brow a bit, Is there something you need explained? 15 Of course, I'll read it out to you. Please, excuse me if I look pained. “Mei1092 Jing or my Beautiful Jane, Taken together, yin and yang. Right now, which of them is your name? 20 Do you love with your heart or brain?” Yes, I know, I am no poet, But I love verse almost as much As I love...you came to be taught; I should really be doing such. 1090 Which. . . name: many from Asia use an American name, in addition to their birth name 1091 That: the reading of his poem 1092 Mei: beautiful (Mandarin) 367

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Learning Endless Wonders Calculus at seventeen Was the greatest awe yet seen, Forgetting the years of math I'd learned That a new system might be discerned.1093 5 But what is that compared to you, Since love has made its first debut, Making me forget loneliness— Years of romantic emptiness? I'm learning how to live alive, 10 Since you make love and joy thrive. You're the greatest of mysteries— Each piques1094 my curiosity— A compound of intricacies Mixed with idiosyncrasies.1095 15 Knowledge is my passion, it's true. I'd love to spend my lifetime through Learning endless wonders of you, Love, and five millennia1096, too. 1093 Discerned: learned 1094 Piques: arouses interest in 1095 Idiosyncrasies: the peculiar habits a person has that helps make them unique 1096 Five millennia: the amount of time that the Chinese culture has been extant. 368

More Heresies from Iyan Igma i I double checked the formulas And balanced all the equations Thinking that I would be prepared For all of life's situations. 5 I could factor1097 and simplify, Use matrices, logarithms, Graphs, and plots, find derivatives, Spout postulates, and prove theorems. But algebra and calculus 10 Ne'er prepared me for the wonder That's just as irrational as An imaginary number. It's incredible you love me, And I'm sure my math must be wrong. 15 Surely, I have confused a sign1098. It's not for division I long. I only want to add to you The exponential love I feel; Don't divide my soul, take it all, 20 And I'll be whole, integral, real. 1097 Factor: a mathematical undertaking where you isolate the common factors; it's similar to dividing, in a sense. For example 4x + 4 would be factored as 4(x+1). 1098 Confused a sign: the most common reason for a problem to be worked out wrong, besides ignorance. 369

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Fireflies The fireflies that we caught tonight, Laughing, stalking flashes through trees When their coy1099 light burned bright in flight After being a darkling1100 tease, 5 Called out to us, and in their way Are symbols of our newfound love. There was nothing they needed say; Just being themselves was enough. They're caught and placed within a jar 10 And will die save we set them free. The world's a lesser place by far When deprived of their wild beauty. They give off light to guide themselves, Denying the night's cruel sovereignty1101, 15 And are as magical as elves, Though they're not imaginary. Love has captured both you and I, And save we're free, love must perish. Love's freedom is captivity, 20 Though it may seem strange and garish1102. When we express ourselves freely Being knit together in love, Then we can shine far more brightly Than fireflies have ever dreamed of. 25 When we are bound and united; We've been freed from life's lonely jar. If in love's joy you've delighted, Oh, shine and show me where you are! 1099 Coy: flirtatious, leading 1100 Darkling: mysterious 1101 Sovereignty: rule 1102 Garish: unpleasant to look upon, clashing 370

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Cada Noche Each night I doze off with my phone In hand, wishing I weren't alone And hoping that you'd call once more, Though we've talked for hours before. 5 It doesn't matter what you say, That is, I'm in love with the way. I share bedtime stories with you So that you'll sleep the whole night through. As you rest, I confess my love, 10 Which one day to you I will prove. But I must hang up while you rest, Wishing that you were at my breast, And what is man that has a heart— We're so close and so far apart! 371

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Alien to Me You didn't come from outer space, And your skin's copper, not green; You may have abducted my heart, But not with a flying machine. 5 You stare at me with diff'rent eyes Than anyone's had for me. You've made me lose track of the time And have erased more than mem'ry, For fears are gone and selfesteem's 10 Buoyed1103 'sif you're Archimedes1104. There's cosmic light within your soul— Your eyes outshine the Pleiades1105. The kinds of tests performed on me Only probe my integrity. 15 You're foreign, but you're also love, That's why you're alien1106 to me. 1103 Buoyed: heldup, supported, floated 1104 Archimedes: the Greek scientist who discovered buoyancy in his bathtub and subsequently ran naked shouting “Eureka!” 1105 Pleiades: a constellation known as the seven sisters. 1106 Alien: foreign or unfamiliar 372

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Pleasing Cascades Who knows what the future will hold? I'm just glad that we have right now. For this is when, so I've been told, We decide what Fate will allow. 5 You don't know how big a blessing Your friendship has become to me, And I'm enjoying everything, For once, haply, wholeheartedly. You make my smile burst forth like dawn, 10 My eyes to twinkle with laughter. I've never had such serene fun, I'll want nothing different after. That is to say that I'll enjoy The power in me invested 15 By love, which makes me an alloy1107, Stronger than anything tested. So, I'll live with vigor and vim1108, And enjoy the tune Fate will sing. In Joy's pleasing cascade1109 I'll swim, 20 And all because of my sweet Jing. 1107 Alloy: a combination of metals that is often stronger than its individual components. 1108 Vigor and vim: energy and enthusiasm, gusto 1109 Cascade: waterfall 373

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Movement is Relative You see that sloth1110 there in the tree Behind the bars where he sits Scarcely moving, and slowly then, Like a furry statue with wits1111? 5 I feel as I have been a sloth Slowly moving closer to you, With ev'ry meticulous1112 step I have tried to cross through life's zoo, At times thinking I'd never reach 10 Your side, so that we could then live. At times it seems that I've stood still, But then movement is relative1113. When I've stood still, you've closed the gap, And we have crossed a vast distance; 15 By traveling e'er so slowly We've overcome all resistance. The time it took me to find you, And all the hardships that I've seen Make me treasure you all the more 20 And prepared me for love serene. 1110 Sloth: a south American primate that might move 3 inches in a day. 1111 Wits: intelligence 1112 Meticulous: careful, cautious 1113 Movement is relative: we move in relation to objects. Even when sitting still we're moving since the earth is spinning and revolving and so is the Milky Way which is hurtling through space. 374

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Femme Fatal Attraction Every detail about the way I feel for you defies ration1114 And logic, and somehow each day It intensifies my passion. 5 I love you, yet it makes no sense— Much to love's own satisfaction. I knew not just a few weeks hence Of your femme fatal1115 attraction. But were love not irrational1116, 10 It would be taken for granted— The understood becomes banal1117; Love's ne'er been bland or unwanted. So you see I'm crazy for you, Spite my loyalty to reason. 15 There's nothing else that I can do, Unless I should commit treason And deny what I know within. How can I, when I look at you And feel your voice caress my skin 20 And dream of you the whole night through? 1114 Ration: logic, sense 1115 Femme fatal: a beautiful woman 1116 Irrational: nonsensical, lot logical 1117 Banal: commonplace, ordinary, hackneyed, trite, bland 375

More Heresies from Iyan Igma One Sublime Creation How many years have passed away Since my emotions have been tamed— Almost in a mesmerized1118 way? So many that I am ashamed. 5 But now I have such selfcontrol That earthquakes couldn't disturb me. My body submits to my soul; My strength comes from being happy. How I love the stability 10 That comes from being able to Focus the soul's ability And longing to have love on you. For when my mind I dedicate In the purest adulation1119, 15 My heart can never deviate1120 From this one sublime1121 creation. 1118 Mesmerized: hypnotized or tranced 1119 Adulation: praise; worship 1120 Deviate: stray away from 1121 Sublime: heavenly 376

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Birthday of an Angel Sweet tunes do they play in heaven, But hark, each note becomes a jewel, And praise is showered out today On the birthday of an angel. 5 Yet here I sing a sweeter song And revel1122 in exuberant1123 mirth1124 That I could share with an angel The sacred day of her birth. Let your halo1125 hang askew, 10 And you'll still be perfect to me. And every message that you bring Is "love still reigns triumphantly." Wonders are many in this world, But none crafted as elegantly 15 As the one who makes my spirits soar, A being of divinity. A yesterday you came to earth, And a tomorrow you'll ascend. Let me pass each day with you till then; 20 'Tis the only way my days I'd spend. Would you bid me not to adore1126, Forbidding my heart's idolatry1127? When you are greater than I am, Is it truly a heresy1128? 25 I celebrate not just a day 1122 Revel: make myself merry 1123 Exuberant: abundant 1124 Mirth: happiness; joy 1125 Halo an angel's diadem of glory; not to be confused with a violent video game 1126 Adore: worship; love 1127 Idolatry: worshipping someone or something other than God 1128 Heresy: a belief or practice that goes against the grain of common belief. In this case, worshipping an angel. 377

More Heresies from Iyan Igma But the hope that many years more Will find my darling angel here So that heaven I can explore. Upon your wings you've lifted me up, 30 Teaching my spirit how to fly. Have a happy birthday, Angel, May you be prosperous and spry1129. May all your wishes come to be, Since you have fulfilled all of mine. 35 May a mortal's small gift of love Be worthy of one so divine. 1129 Spry: active; lively; full of energy 378

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Uma Coisa Mais You've given my life a purpose When it drifted on aimlessly. You've painted my life beauteous; You give so much and selflessly. 5 You've given me more faith and hope Than I could ever comprehend; I fell, but you're my saving rope— Can't you see that you're my godsend? I've received wisdom and scoldings 10 When I needed to be chastized1130. You gave my heart precious holdings, In your spirit I've been baptized1131. I'm filled with wondrous amazement For the time you've spent with me; 15 You've taken me from life's basement To where the air is pure and free. My soul sings like a sacred choir Since you've given it reason to. There's but one thing more I desire— 20 To awake each morn next to you. 1130 Chastized: reprimanded, punished, corrected 1131 Baptized: submerged and given a new life 379

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Slumbering St. Elmo's Fire What do I see when my eyes close And my spirit drifts calm and free Like a herd of bucks, fawns, and does1132 That never knew anxiety 5 Off to the realms that the wise seek— The very portals1133 of the soul— To learn the spirit's ancient Greek And thus gain complete selfcontrol? I see works Michaelangelo1134 10 Would have killed himself to create— Glory no sculpture or fresco1135 Could e'er possibly duplicate. For how can you trap what resides Like slumbering St. Elmo's fire 15 In cold marble or plaster hides1136 And not wind up looking a liar? How can you capture a pure soul When the world sees shallow beauty And not the Utopic1137 atoll1138 20 That's sheltered from the raging sea? What is seen when I close my eyes? The most wondrous flow'r that e'er grew. It is a beauty in disguise; Yea, visions of glorious you. 1132 Does: female deer 1133 Portals: windows 1134 Michelangelo: a long dead painted 1135 Fresco: plasterbased art 1136 Hides: skins 1137 Utopic: paradiselike 1138 Atoll: collection of islands 380

More Heresies from Iyan Igma See Your Sunlight Shine I have lost the reservations1139 I once had about loving you. The doubts, fears, and second guesses My mind plagued my heart with are through. 5 For you have become part of me, And are nourishment for my soul; I cannot think of the future Without you, for you make me whole. I live to see your sunlight shine, 10 Your soft tones have me enchanted. My mind dwells constantly on you! May I ne'er take you for granted. 1139 Reservations: doubts 381

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Crafted Perfectly I don't see you as Chinese When I look upon your face. My eyes don't lust emptily on you Because you're of an exotic race. 5 Instead, my eyes perceive far beyond, Well beneath your lissome1140 skin And find the raceless beauty Of a pure heart deep within. Your tenderness and sincerity 10 Your countenance reflects Who1141 you are, not what1142 you are, Is what my eyes detect. There are those who only want to know The touch and texture of Asian skin, 15 But from the first I've been captured By the glimpse of wonder within. I must admit that you're different, And that attracts me, Because you're the only woman that's 20 Been for me crafted perfectly. 1140 Lissome: supple 1141 Who: your personality 1142 What: your race 382

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Igneous Love I know now how the expression “Crazy about you” came to be, For that's how I feel when you're near; When we're apart, it's agony. 5 I've never been so terrified, But I've never loved completely. For once my desires have nothing To do with sexuality. Instead, I seek a clear rapport, 10 True love's philosophical dream Which values the emotional Sensuality as supreme. A million wonders I would see, And all of them are you and me. 15 May we form an igneous love, Rich, intense, not sedentary. 383

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Asexual Embrace It's possible for me to hold you Without wanting something more, Since an embrace is treasure enough, And our rapport1143 it can restore. 5 At times I need your comfort, or The strength that your faith gives to me. Hugs convey abiding love through Colloquy1144 so eloquently. Encircling you, eternity 10 Can rage 'round us like a tempest1145. Grasping you close, ma coeur1146, fulfills The needs of my chest though we're dressed. 1143 Rapport: relationship 1144 Colloquy: an bright and vivid conversation 1145 Tempest: storm 1146 Ma coeur: my heart 384

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Doce Darme Por Vencido The sweet surrender to your love Defies the traditions of men. The loser normally cedes1147 all. How is it losing I win? 5 I'll vow my fealty1148 to your heart; I would lay my life down for you. But living is the hardest part Of proving that pledged love is true1149. Thus, my dear I will live in love 10 With you and not just the notion, And death will come because I live Mindful of why you've my devotion. 'Tis not a death of flesh and bone But childish insecurities. 15 How can losing myself to you Be the greatest of victories? I've given up, but no disgrace Could possibly tarnish1150 my name. We're one now, but our paths could not 20 Ever possibly be the same1151. 1147 Cedes: gives up, surrenders 1148 Fealty: oath of loyalty 1149 Living. . . true: it's easy enough to say you love someone and die, moreso than if you have to live a whole lifetime through with them proving it on a daily basis 1150 Tarnish: taint, corrupt, corrode 1151 Same: as they were before 385

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Your Kiln Woman, it is as though hands Have sculpted me for years, First making clay from my sands And them making crude smears. 5 Occasionally, there would form A lump resembling me, Though it seemed ever the norm That I'd soon be debris. Touches rough, delicate prods 10 Never made my heart warm Such failure told me the odds Were slim that you'd transform The clay wherein I'm entombed; Your kiln1152 I knew not of. 15 What strengthens, though I'm consumed? The wonder of your love. 1152 Kiln: oven made specifically to bake pottery 386

More Heresies from Iyan Igma V.S.O. You are not just significant; You are everything to me. You're the fount of pure waters Who has healed my Dead Sea1153. 5 Though there's no legal commitment, I'm obligated by something stronger— The desire to spoil you thoroughly And to make our love wax1154 stronger. You're not someone to date a while 10 For boredom or fancy's passing, But my will and ambition And a strength that is surpassing, Who keeps me buoyed and advancing, Instead of lying pronely1155. 15 There is no other to compare with you; You're my very significant only. 1153 Fount. . . Sea: see Ezekiel 47:8 1154 Wax: become; grow 1155 Pronely: face down 387

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Faded Epitaphs We shall indeed immortalize Our love, but not in books or trees, Monuments, palaces, gold, or Any of man's flimsy memories. 5 But rather in oblivion, For our love would to others seem As a faded epitaph on A tombstone worn by time supreme, Whose scripts would only mark the place 10 Where something important had been. But no amount of eye strain could Divulge1156 the sanctity within The bosom of the earth (or us.) They profane1157 what's consecrated1158 15 In blood, sweat, joy, tears, triumphs, loss: The bad by the good's negated1159. Thereby we've perfected our love, Immortalizing it that we Can maintain its secret power 20 To bind us through eternity. Despite what monuments may rise To mark our love for human eyes, It's something we alone can know, For the talk of love is hollow. 1156 Divulge: reveal 1157 Profane: defile; debase 1158 Consecrated: made holy; sanctified 1159 Negated: canceled out 388

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Highest Expression of Love You're the highest expression of love God could ever create for man. No words could capture your essence, For their attempts would just be bland. 5 The details of your creation, Which make you wonderfully unique— Like your smiles and pouty faces And the dimple in your right cheek— Have all been put there just because 10 He knew they would enrapture1160 me, Which is intensified when you Bathe me in pure intimacy1161. 1160 Enrapture: engross; captivate 1161 Intimacy: affection and care 389

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Jinghism I've found a new religion That suits me through and through. It's the unadulterated Worship of my darling you. 5 It answers all the questions Religious scholars never knew. What's the purpose of life on earth? To sincerely worship you. It gives me hopes for eternity, 10 Since I desire to be with you To enjoy your blessed company. You're the only thing that's true. You have made me reach new heights That slumbering spirits never view 15 Because they never see the glory, The inner Nirvana1162 in you. Your maturity spans the ages And only draws me constantly near. I know more than so called sages1163, 20 Because I have come to know you, my dear. Your touch is euphoria1164, And your kiss a stellar1165 heat. Your laughter heals my spirit; Your smiles make my turmoils1166 sweet. 25 You give me peace in affliction And boundless strength when I am weak. 1162 Nirvana: the highest spiritual plane 1163 Sages: wise men 1164 Euphoria: extreme pleasure and happiness 1165 Stellar: a star's 1166 Turmoils: problems 390

More Heresies from Iyan Igma You've healed my soul's mute1167 love; Hear it miraculously speak. I could give my life to serve you 30 And never pay off my debt. I joy in my conversion, Which healed all my past regret. Rest assured that I'm devoted. I believe in you perfectly. 35 I found more than heav'n on earth Because you are here and now with me. 1167 Mute: unable to speak 391

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lo Que Sea I would do anything for you, As you have seen these past few days. I'm out of character, it's true, But I'm certain that's not the case. 5 I never had a life before You filled me with felicity1168 And gave me something to adore1169, But it's not idolatry, For you are the true high goddess 10 That's created something of me. There's compassion 'neath your bodice1170, Warmth, passion, and divinity. And since you are my Creator1171, How could I help but worship you? 15 For me, there is no one greater, And there's nothing else I could do. I'm not out of character, for I have never been who I am. Your power's made me something more— 20 You have made me become a man. Dear Goddess, I shall obey you, I'll do anything you think of; You have my heart constant and true, So, I'll enjoy falling in love. 1168 Felicity: happiness 1169 Adore: worship; love 1170 'neath your bodice: in your heart 1171 Since. . . Creator: see line 20 392

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Like Each Day Was a Gift I took for granted waking up And the sunshine that warmed my face; The air that fills my nostrils and lungs; Walking with poise, balance, grace; 5 The fresh water found in my home And not miles away at a well; A roof to shelter me from rain; Clothing that keeps my torso1172 pale; The trove1173 of food in my pantry1174; 10 The blessing of resilient1175 health; And much more ne'er considering The cards that others have been dealt. Your love's shown me that 'twixt1176 what I Feel and what is real there's a rift1177. 15 Due to love's grateful view I vow To live like each day was a gift. For that's what your love seems to me— A gift that makes me more naïve But opens my view to wonder, 20 And with its strength I can believe. 1172 Torso: abdomen and chest 1173 Trove: store, collection, supply 1174 Pantry: I had a typo here at one point that rendered the line “the trove of food in my panty.” When I noticed it, I laughed endlessly. 1175 Resilient: strong, hardy 1176 'twixt: in between 1177 Rift: a divide 393

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lo Haré I promise you right here and now, While still delirious with love, To utterly fulfill the vow By doing the tasks you've asked of 5 Me. That is, I'll never give up, Despite whatever should happen, No matter how luck runs amuck1178, I'll never be beaten again By discouragement, but I will 10 Live my life to perfect fullness, Living truly happily 'till, At last being one with Oneness, I am freed from this solemn pledge By entering a higher state. 15 Alive, this promise is a wedge To prevent backsliding. My slate Shall bear this promise always; I'll cling to it like I would you. Though we might diverge1179 paths one day, 20 I'll keep this promise just for you. This is all you've asked of me, And you've given to reach that end. You give so free and selflessly, That's why you are my dearest friend. 25 It's little wonder, you must see, That for me to fulfill this vow, We must live in love endlessly. I can see no other way how, For should I ever lose your strength, 30 Tenderness, and inspiration, 1178 Amuck: wildly and unpredictably 1179 Diverge: split; separate 394

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I must falter sadly at length— Never knowing jubilation. How could I live to the fullest Without spoiling you in love? 35 Without you, life'd be the dullest, Most miserable anguish heard of. 395

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Sunshine in a Season of Discontent You were my glorious sunshine In a season of discontent1180. You've given me a love Divine; After all, you were heaven sent. 5 You've brightened my life and my heart And made me be able to see Wisdom exceeding old Descartes'1181; Mir'cles in the ordinary. And when the night is all around, 10 Your emblazoned1182 love guides my feet. Ergo1183, this question I propound1184: Will you stay my sunshine, my sweet? I can't hope to trap your sunlight And can't pretend I'm that clever. 15 So, will you stay both day and night And be my sunshine forever? 1180 Discontent: sorrow; sadness 1181 Descartes: philosopher known for saying, “I think, therefore I am.” A heretic by Catholic standards. 1182 Emblazoned: fiery, brilliant 1183 Ergo: therefore 1184 Propound: put forth, ask 396

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Missing Link How could I not want to be with you? You're part of me as much as bone, My evolution's missing link, The best friend I have ever known. 5 You're proof that God blesses man more Than Karma1185 should ever allow, For surely I should not merit The tender love you give me now. A turtle will cleave1186 to its shell, 10 And pollen clings unto the bees That enable it to fulfill A higher purpose ,which will please The pollen and the laden bees, For next year's nectar will be sweet. 15 Thus, the bees will gladly return To pollinate again and eat. And so the cycle is with us, Mutualism1187 at its best. Your sweetness makes me care for you; 20 My affection you reinvest. Don't place too much stock in children, And whether you can bare me one. One day they would have to leave home, And we shall continue alone. 25 Gravity keeps us together, For I'm stuck in orbit with you. As time passes I'm drawn closer Enjoying each majestic view. 1185 Karma: future blessings and punishment determined by my past actions 1186 Cleave: hold fast to 1187 Mutualism: a relationship in which both partners are mutually benefitted 397

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Unconventional, But Not Bizarre You say that you believe in me. Perhaps the only reason for Your doubt is that you can't see how Much I believe in you more. 5 Can't you see that you're amazing, And how sweet and gentle you are? You're gentle, generous, loving, Unconventional, but not bizarre. You're fun, engaging, positive, 10 Gorgeous, passionate, talented, And have no cause to question why I would happily choose to spend My passing life and what follows Cherishing you each night and day. 15 But I understand; I negate Myself in the exact same way. 398

More Heresies from Iyan Igma This Way For what is age and what is race, When your smiles blossom on my face, And I can share my soul with you, Just as I've always longed to do, 5 And you see some steel glint in me, Though I feel so frail and flimsy, And you make me the proudest fool For love, you, and your touch so cool? What is age when time will slip by 10 Through eternities like a sigh, And what we have's but a vision Of our joy, should our decision Be firm and our devotion true? In perfection1188 I'd still love you. 15 Age here's just an imagined thing, But love is an eternal ring. What is race? Love and God are blind1189, Though they rejoice that we did find Each other for bliss and passion 20 To make art as we would fashion, Free of the constraints1190 man has set And rich because our love we let Carry us to greater treasures Than the biased1191 ever measures. 25 Then, what is age and what is race? Are they greater than love's solace1192 To love for age and race alone Would be the worst tragedy known, For shouldn't we love from the soul, 30 Which our heart and mind can't control, 1188 perfection: the Resurrection 1189 Blind: to race 1190 Constraints: limitations and boundaries 1191 Biased: prejudiced, blinded 1192 Solace: comfort 399

More Heresies from Iyan Igma And thus be oblivious1193 when We look upon our true love's skin? What is age and what is race, then, But the mere excuses of men 35 To debase1194 true love so their lust Seems better than it is? They trust Too much in youth to have real love, Since vanity's all they dream of. But our communion1195 who else has? 40 Love knows no bounds; it is like jazz. Yea, what is age and what is race? Nothing when compared to thy1196 face, Sincerity, purity, grace. My heart belongs no other place. 45 Be thy age and race what it may, Just know I'd love you anyway. Heed not the fools and what they say, For they will never feel this way. 1193 Oblivious: unaware 1194 Debase: degrade; lessen; sully 1195 Communion: relationship; connection 1196 Thy: your 400

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Without a Purpose But what's a poem, and what's love, If I can never be with you? I'm like the sky seeing the sun— I will be eternally blue. 5 I'm the mount searching for the sea, Towering high into the sky, But I am alone in my zeal1197, And lonely clouds are passing me by. I would have reached Enlightenment1198, 10 Only to have it snatched from me. I would be a masterpiece Created for the world to never see. Instead of being Confucius, I would merely be confused. 15 I would be the best Tang poetry1199, Though I would never be perused1200. I would be nature without a soul; I would have no reason to live. You could spare me all this turmoil, 20 If love to me you would give. 1197 Zeal: the energy and passion of devotion 1198 Enlightenment: the highest state 1199 Tang poetry: poetry written during the Tang dynasty 1200 Perused: looked over 401

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mais Do Meu Ser I love you more than my being, Though I'd never have chosen to. But your enchantments sustain me. I only live when I'm with you. 5 I love you more than my being; There's nothing special about me. But you're no ersatz1201 perfection; You're what I cherish faithfully. I love you more than my being, 10 For life itself could pass away. Its passing would not bother me; I can't live without you each day. I love you more than my being; You inspire me to ever strive. 15 Your faith lends me great strength and sight. You make hope and happiness thrive. I love you beyond my being With more passion than I have known. My love could fill a galaxy, 20 Since your universe has been shown. 1201 Ersatz: fake, false 402

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I Beseech Thee Give me thy heart with clarity, And keep not e'en one shadow back. But love me with integrity1202. Complement1203 me in what I lack. 5 Be sincere with my shortcomings And genuine in affection. Help me understand thee clearly That our love might reach perfection. I have already pledged to thee 10 Honesty, openness, and trust. Though I struggle, I forgive thee Fully, for no grudge is a must1204. It only hurts me to hold back My feelings and bottle up spite1205. 15 I adore thee and beseech1206 thee That thou wouldst my passion requite1207. 1202 Integrity: completeness 1203 Complement: make complete; finish 1204 A must: necessary 1205 Spite: rancor and illwill 1206 Beseech: beg; supplicate 1207 Requite: return 403

More Heresies from Iyan Igma No Hope to Shine I'm sorry about this feeble ring, Which can never hope to shine As much as you do in my eyes. The diamonds just aren't as fine. 5 They're pricecontrolled and meaningless,1208 Unlike this ruby that you are— Rare and precious. Though the gold is 24 carat, it can't compare With your purity and worth 10 That have no means to be measured, Since the soul is eternity And perfection is more than treasured. But I hope you see it hints at What I pledge to give you, Jing: 15 Something unending and valuable, But only if you'll accept this ring. 1208 Price. . . meaningless: unlike sapphires, rubies, and emeralds, diamonds are not rare, precious gems. Instead a monopoly chooses how many and when to release them to the general public. 404

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Per Buddhist Maxims If the lake and vine don't exist1209, Isn't age an illusion, too? Why should an imagined difference Be such a grave1210 issue to you? 5 If there's no dust, no dust settles— To desire makes us to suffer. But without desire there's no love, And to love not makes life tougher. For what's the point to have no love? 10 Our whole lives would be spent in vain1211. It's true love's joys come with a price, Which outweigh our eyes' salty rain. I'll gladly mourn when it is time, If loving you can be my fate. 15 There's so much dust1212 now in my heart I know it can't be a mistake. And, having addressed Buddhism, I'll continue to speak freely. The zodiac's1213 only correct 20 As you allow it to be, Surely not about you and I. For true love trumps1214 astrology; 1209 If. . . exist: referring to a Buddhist aphorism from China that Ling taught me. It roughly translates into: “The grape vine has no tree to start with, The reflection of the lake is not a stage, If there is nothing here, No dust will settle here.” It's meaning is that all we perceive is an illusion, and if we stop having desires, then we will suffer no more. 1210 Grave: serious 1211 In vain: without purpose or reason 1212 Dust: desire and feeling, see the previous footnote on about the Buddhist aphorism 1213 Zodiac: consulting the Chinese zodiac is an important step in determining whether a couple will be married 1214 Trumps: beats; conquers 405

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Mysticism's pow'r is belief1215. I know that you're perfect for me. 1215 Mysticism. . . belief: nothing has any power or efficacy except what our belief grants it 406

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Tradition's stronger than logic You hesitate to say yes; What is it you're afraid of? Tradition's stronger than logic, But nothing can tame our love. 5 If you want, I'll send a letter Requesting your family's blessing, Just help me with the characters That I write nothing distressing. Then, I can send them gifts and words 10 To honour the second custom1216, And your procession can journey By foot all the way to my home The day the calendar thinks best1217. You would be welcomed readily 15 By my family, don't you fret. I would even help you serve tea. Dress in red1218 per your tradition; I marry the bride, not the gown. I'll pay all my respects to heav'n1219, 20 Since to me you have been sent down. Tell me how the banquet should be, And your wedding will go as planned. I love you, Jing, and ask again, Will you grace this ring with your hand? 1216 Second custom: traditional Chinese weddings are a complicated process involving the Three Letters and Six Etiquette. The groom/groom's family must send a letter requesting marriage, then a letter must be sent accompanying gifts, and finally a letter welcoming the bride into her new family is given on the day of marriage. The Etiquette involve things like the families finding suitors, consulting the zodiac to see if they are compatible, establishing the bride price, the bride marching to her soontobeinlaws, the oaths, tea, and a wedding dinner. It was probably a group of Chinese people who were impatient with this time consuming process who started the nearly instantaneous wedding chapels in Vegas. 1217 Calendar thinks best: whichever day would be the luckiest. 1218 Red: traditional Chinese wedding gowns are red, not white 1219 Pay. . . heav'n: part of the wedding vows 407

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ne'er Separated May that day come soon when I'm yours, And we'll ne'er be separated, But bound by a love that endures, And then I would be elated1220. 5 I know marriage is not easy, But nothing worthwhile ever is. Loving you ever inspires me; Your virtue is love's accomplice1221. Come what may, the sorrow and pain 10 Could never torment me so much As sleeping without you again, As spending night without your touch. I love you, and I want to be Wrapped in your hedonistic1222 bliss. 15 Missing you is such misery, But you can heal me with a kiss Each night and each morning's sunrise And your company all day long. May your beauty fill waking eyes; 20 May my heart have where to belong! May I never more have to miss What I have missed for a lifetime! Stay, my sunshine, and with your kiss Change tundra1223 to a warmer clime. 25 Let me melt basking in your rays; Dark nights can dwell some other place. Let's spend together all our days In kisses, love, and embraces. 1220 Elated: extremely happy 1221 Accomplice: companion 1222 Hedonistic: sensual and pleasing 1223 Tundra: permanently frozen land 408

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Heart in Return Oh, let me have one small favour This is all that I ask of you: Take this heart that's learned to savour The tender, cherished thought of you, 5 And give me your heart in return, Then no longer will I know pain. Feel the love that for you does burn, And know that I'm feeling the same. Please take this link between our souls 10 So they might have communion1224 sweet Through the pure love neither controls But controls us and makes complete. 1224 Communion: unity, a link 409

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Ambrosia of Blissful Moments How do I know we can succeed, When everything now seems to fail? Will all of our efforts pay off, Or is this a futile travail1225? 5 It's a silly question to ask, For effort precedes1226 the success; If worry never let's me do, We'd be a failure nonetheless And never taste the ambrosia1227 10 Of blissful moments together, Nor imbibe1228 love's Letheish1229 nectar As a preview to forever. We can succeed, if so we choose And work to this end everyday, 15 Ignoring the stings we each give, Lifting the other from dismay, Remembering for what we work, Always making each other smile. Love's but1230 glimpses of the future 20 Joy to make our struggles worthwhile. How do I know I am alive? My reflection is in your eyes, And I catch glimpses in mirrors Of your love's unheard of surprise 5 Played out on tender fields of brown Encircled by a stream of blue; 1225 Travail: undertaking; labour 1226 Precedes: goes before 1227 Ambrosia: the food of the Gods which granted immortality to those who ate it 1228 Imbibe: drink 1229 Letheish: forgetful; regarding the river Lethe, which in this case makes us forget all the sorrows 1230 But: just; merely 410

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Your soul's windows have no curtains, And I can tell that I've slipped through. Can you and I have happiness? 10 How do I know we can succeed? Joy's glimpses hint at our future, Giving faith and hope in love's creed1231. 1231 Creed: dogma; belief 411

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Consecrated in Devotion "One day, Mei Jing, my little bird," Was the mantra1232 I used to think. Suddenly we were together Far faster than our eyes could blink. 5 We were prepared for each other After all that before happened And can appreciate our love Despite the obstacles there've been. Today is our independence. 10 Let us live, enjoying life for Each simple wonder like flowers And love's purest gifts laid in store. The greatest gifts that we'll exchange Are true vows, not symbolic rings, 15 Consecrated in devotion And attention to the small things. You have compared me to curry1233, Saying I'm sophisticated, Just the perfect blend of spices— 20 Smart, calm, funny and awaited. Figuring you out's like trying To read slender ideograms Composed of intricate brush strokes. I love your mystique, sweet madam. 25 You keep me active and challenged And satisfy my innate1234 need To have a love I can extol. To my heart's throne you may accede.1235 1232 Mantra: repetitive chorus used to reach a higher plane of existence 1233 Curry: a sauce made of a combination of spices like turmeric, cinnamon, etc., which is native to India and Southeast Asia 1234 Innate: inborn; basic 412

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I've learned knowledge is the power 30 That makes love's dream reality. Smitten, I can fin'ly live now You've taught me how to be happy. 1235 Accede: rise; assume power 413

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Like Atlas You're a perfect fit in my arms; Your luscious1236 figure molds to mine. Your vitality1237 my heart warms; As always, Jing, you feel sublime1238. 5 Your gossamer1239 arms wrap my neck, Though I would never let you fall. Your legs are drifting off in space; You seem to weigh nothing at all. You're just a delicate feather, 10 For holding you lends to my strength. Would this moment last forever! You're mine now, and we kiss at length. There's nothing more that I desire, For you're celestial1240 perfection. 15 My body burns, but not with fire, For every succulent1241 section Of your persona calls to me, Assuring me that dreams come true. But e'en my wildest fantasy 20 Could never prepare me for you. You make me feel I know not how; I only know that I want more. I have capsized in your love's seas And washed up on your blissful shore. 25 Oh, Jing, I feel like Atlas1242, yet 1236 Luscious: delicious 1237 Vitality: energy 1238 Sublime: heavenly 1239 Gossamer: silky 1240 Celestial: heavenly 1241 Succulent: tasty; delicious 1242 Atlas: the Titan who was cursed to bear the world upon his shoulders 414

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Spite the fact that I hold my world1243, It's no burden and somehow I get Lifted off my feet and swirled Around your axis by the pull 30 That keeps me closer than the moon. You're the only queen who could rule My heart; you're my life's greatest boon1244. So, as I hold you in my arms Wishing each second were such bliss, 35 I am embraced by your dear charms. I say "I love you" with a kiss. No words could now escape my tongue; My lips move from hand to shoulder. I love to see how your hair's flung 40 Back in ecstasy when bolder Caresses adorn your soft ears And neck, and you gasp in pleasure. You're so beautiful I shed tears, For you are my living treasure. 45 I could lose any other thing, But without you I'd be destroyed. I ne'er loved ere1245 I met you, Jing, Nor such intimacy enjoyed. All of this would be meaningless, 50 Were it not shared with you, my love. You give my spirit completeness And have made a dormant1246 heart move. 1243 World: Jing 1244 Boon: blessing; granted favor or wish 1245 Ere: before 1246 Dormant: inactive; lifeless 415

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Through Matted Tresses A vision in a silk nightgown Stares at me through matted1247 tresses1248. The eyes grow eager and yearning; The skin responds to caresses. 5 The soft scents of soaps and oils rise From this smooth body that presses Anxiously, seeking out the warmth Lovers find when each undresses. We use the gift of tongues and find 10 The laying on of hands blesses. 1247 Matted: wet 1248 Tresses: hair 416

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Secretly Awaited The warmth of Eden fuses1249 to my back As my sweet pea slips back into her pod. Her suave1250 presence makes me just as complete As faith steadies those who believe in God. 5 In this moment we are just as love bugs1251, For likewise we can't be separated, Being overcome by our union's joy Which so long we've secretly awaited. Although I try so hard to remove it, 10 My kiss from your lips will not go away. Each attempted removal adds to it. There's something my soul has long yearned to say. 1249 Fuses: blends; melts 1250 Suave: soft; silken 1251 Love bugs: shameless little creatures who fly around in giant swarms to exhibit the ultimate public display of affection 417

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Visage of Serenity I don't want to close my eyes tonight, Since Mab1252 would steal you from my view, And I've missed too many precious moments When my eyes could dote on you. 5 I want to watch your copper skin So soft and full of vitality1253 Rest in the slumbering solace1254 Painting the visage of serenity1255. You rest like a newborn baby, 10 Since your soul is pure and clean. You breathe like whispering trees; You have an aura1256 and a sheen. Your beauty makes you younger, And I long that you may stay 15 Asleep within my eager arms And spoon1257 with me always. 1252 Mab: Queen Mab is a faerie that comes at night to give dreams, often of unrealizable things. 1253 Vitality: life 1254 Solace: peace 1255 Serenity: peacefulness 1256 Aura: a light or glow, often spiritual, that accompanies a person 1257 Spoon: to cuddle up with both people facing in the same direction (i.e. one person's chest pressed against the other's back) 418

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Meditation in an Embrace Your gentle head rests on my chest, My hands round thy delicate waist. Your soft, tiny hand cups my cheek, Your legs with mine are interlaced1258. 5 Your bosom lifts you gently up As you respire1259 quite solaced1260, But my heart's passionate throbbing Can scarcely claim to be erased. Your hair is almost tickling me, 10 And with vibrant fruit scents it's laced. I hold you tight and meditate While we are so gently embraced. I focus on how you're breathing, How your steady heart makes no haste1261. 15 I am at one with your rhythm That so wonderfully is spaced. My skin can feel your warm passion, And my lips still savour your taste. I see but your slender figure 20 By loving hands carefully traced. Put to sleep with silken visions— Beauty and love can't be replaced. 1258 Interlaced: woven together 1259 Respire: breathe 1260 Solaced: comforted; relaxed 1261 Haste: hurry; rush 419

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Ever So Slightly Your hand in mine, we walk the beach With the tide low, the sand lukewarm. Not even boist'rous1262 sea gulls preach, No doubt enchanted by your form. 5 Ever so slightly our feet sink; The footprints will be washed away Like me in seas of love. I think That soon will come the break of day. Seeing your slender elegance 10 As it bends to retrieve a shell, I think of our very first dance— It was as electric, as well. Glory delicate and petite Looks up with tender onyx1263 eyes. 15 I pull you in so warm and sweet, Embracing you 'neath silver skies. We dance beneath the purple pinks; I'm pressed to living silk and lace. The surf at our feet, our arms links, 20 Hearts pounding, lips in an embrace. My shoulder now doffs1264 the blanket, And we cuddle up on the shore. The sun flees from where seas sank it. Paradise'd be now ever more. 1262 Bois'trous: noisy 1263 Onyx: a dark black gem 1264 Doffs: removes; takes off 420

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Over and Anew So this is what it's like to start Life over and anew with you. I feel your gently beating heart Where you lie in the somber hue1265 5 Of dawn, dark hair and skin pressed close. What new wonders will the day bring? You whistle softly in repose1266, And I can think of just one thing: I lived my life and never knew 10 That I was just waiting for you; And though our love is overdue1267, I now rejoice because it's true. No one could be as fortunate As I am for you are my wife. 15 You are my treasure incarnate1268 Who makes a paradise of life. 1265 Hue: shade or color 1266 Repose: rest 1267 Love is overdue: it took them a while to find each other 1268 Incarnate: in the flesh 421

My Sun A serious reflection on the effects of divorce on children

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Happy Home I used to have a happy home, At least, I think I did. Life seemed so much easier When I was just a little kid. 5 But now my dad has gone away, And I live with just my mom. It feels like something's missing Whenever I am home. I want to see the happy faces 10 That once upon a time kissed, Which made me feel gross, it's true, But gave me the safety I've missed. 423

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lost Daddy, why are you so far away? I want to be hugged by you. I had a pet squirrel once, And I lost him forever, too. 5 You remember how I cried to see Him buried in a box by the tree? Then, maybe you can imagine What your loss has done to me. I feel like I'm forgotten; 10 Mommy has so much to do, And she's just as sad as I am. She can't give me time with you. 424

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Tears Melt Sometimes I cry myself to sleep And weep waking up feeling alone, And my tears melt when I hear My dad far away on the phone. 5 I want to have him right next to me; I miss getting his bear hugs. Who's going to catch bugs with me And help me trap lizards and slugs? I know that momma cries a lot, too, 10 But she doesn't know that I know. The mornings I come to her bed, I can feel her damp, salty pillow. Her bed seems strangely empty now That daddy's not in his place. 15 When I come to be comforted, I put a smile upon her face. 425

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I Blame Myself Why do I cry? I blame myself. The divorce must be my crime. I wonder what I have done, And wish I could go back in time. 5 But there are no hands1269 I can turn back To send us back some months or years To make things just as they were, Before I made us cry these tears. I just wish saying "I'm sorry" 10 Could bring daddy back home tonight. But I still don't know what I did To cause them to split up and fight. 1269 Hands: hands on a clock 426

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Chin Up Momma told me to put my chin up Because it's not my fault. She said marriage once was sugar, But it had turned into salt. 5 She saw the way I stared at her And didn't really understand. So, she thought carefully, And then she took me by the hand. "Two people can fall in love, son, 10 But sometimes that love will die. One day we realized that we change. Remember how I told you not to lie?" I nodded yes. "We couldn't pretend We had anything to love but you. 15 We were unhappy to be together. We're better now, but we've hurt you. Don't think that you're the reason; You're what kept us together so long. There was nothing that you could change. 20 We all need to try to be strong. It won't be easy, but our hearts Will start to feel better bit by bit. Just think of it like getting a shot, It hurts less if you don't look at it. 25 You must remember above all things That though grownup love may end, I could never stop loving you. You're my child, not just a friend." 427

More Heresies from Iyan Igma School I used to do much better in school But there are other things on my mind. My behavior and my grades are slipping, And I can't help but feel behind. 5 That only adds to the stress I feel Because of the changes at home. I wish I could talk to the teacher, But can I trust someone who's grown? She seems nice enough, it's true, 10 But will she think something bad of me If I tell her about the divorce? I don't want her to think I'm guilty. Some of my classmates have gone through This, and she seems to like them just fine. 15 Maybe, she'll listen and help me, too. I hope that she will take the time. 428

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I Stayed with Momma I'm scared to see my dad because He might not love me anymore. After all, I stayed with momma, And this could be like a war. 5 I didn't get a chance to choose Who I wanted to live with, though I couldn't say if I'd go or stay. I'm glad I'll never know. Since none of this way my idea, 10 It is not fair if he hates me. I'm just going for a visit, But how much will it change me? 429

More Heresies from Iyan Igma How Could I Not Love You? “How could I not love you?” My daddy asked, taken by surprise. “Half of you is me. You see Through my very own eyes. 5 Your birth was the happiest day That my life has ever known. It makes me proud to see you, 'cause I think how much you've grown. No matter what it is you do, 10 Although it might hurt me, I'll love you forever, son, You are a precious treasure for me. My love for you won't go away; It could never be erased. 15 Even if I had another child, You could never be replaced. 430

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Which One I sit and wonder what this means; My eyes keep studying the floor. Don't I have to choose sides? Which one should I love more? 5 Should I love my momma more, Since I see her everyday? Surely she must love me more To have wanted me to stay. But then my daddy spoils me 10 Whenever it's my turn to see him. It seems like we have more fun Since he doesn't discipline. How can I make a choice like this? I need them both in different ways. 15 I guess I'll have to love them both, Even when I don't feel like it some days. 431

More Heresies from Iyan Igma He's Just Not Dad I'm glad my mom has found a friend; He doesn't seem that bad. I don't mind spending time with him, But he's just not my dad. 5 It makes me just a little jealous That he makes my mom so happy Since I'm still sad. I wonder Will she have less love for me? I'm also hurt because somehow 10 He's taking my daddy's place. Dad's the only one whose hands Should touch my momma's face. 432

More Heresies from Iyan Igma All Confused When I go to see my dad It makes me all confused, Because he has a girlfriend now, And I like her just fine, too. 5 I wonder if my mommy minds; Would she be jealous of how I feel? Liking her won't stop me from Loving mommy. I always will. 433

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Someone Else My mom quit talking to her friend; It's just like they're divorced. Although my mom seems upset, I think it's hurting me worst. 5 I can't bear to lose someone else When I've finally dared to get close. I hope they can get past this; Today he sent her a rose. I don't know who's wrong or right 10 Or why mom's upset with her friend. I just wonder why it seems like All grownup friendships end? 434

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Forgiven Mommy's forgiven her friend at last. He came to visit us today. He spent more time with momma, But we did get to go and play. 5 He showed me a diamond ring And asked if I knew what it's for. I answered to give to mommy, Since girls like rings more. He told me it was special; 10 It's called an engagement ring. He said he wants to marry mom. Well, that changes everything. 435

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A New Family I know it's bad for me to fear What happens after they are wed, But it won't just be mom and I. We'll be living with him instead. 5 It's been nice to have him visit, But he won't be leaving ever again. When we become a new family, Will he still want me as much then? Is he going to take me for granted? 10 Will he tell me to just go away? Will he stop being nice and mock me, Or will we continue to play? 436

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Stay Stepdads are all right, I guess. He seems just like he is my friend. It's different to have him here, But our playing didn't end. 5 I used to think he was perfect, But I see he's just like me. Sometimes he gets upset and sad; Sometimes he's hurt and angry. But most of the time he's just fine. 10 I think we'll live together okay. My mom definitely seems happier, And I do want him to stay. 437

More Heresies from Iyan Igma A Walk My stepdad wants to take a walk, And I told him that was fine. But he said he wanted me to come And talk with him, if I didn't mind. 5 I don't mind walking, since it's fun, But I'm scared what he will say. I must have done something wrong; Did he find out about the other day? We talk about unimportant things, 10 And when our house is out of sight, He tells me something surprising, Saying he hopes the time is right. . . 438

More Heresies from Iyan Igma My Sun "You don't have to call me father; You were already born with one. It doesn't matter what you call me; I'm just glad you are my sun. 5 You make the day much brighter And keep me warm when I am gone To work with just your memory. You shine like noon when I come home. You spoil me, basking in your rays, 10 So that together we can play. I love you like you were my son; I hope you can love me too someday." 439

More Heresies from Iyan Igma All Right So, I think maybe it'll be all right, Though it will never be the same. Now I have two sets of parents, And my mom has a new last name. 5 But it doesn't change the fact that My mom and dad still love me. It seems that they can love me more That they are finally happy. I'm happier, too, but deep inside 10 I wonder if my heart will heal. Perhaps it's started already, So I think it really will. 440

Short Stories, Fables, and Their Ilk

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Lamb and the Ewe The lamb asked his mom how she could still have the energy to play with him, since she was old. She told him that her love for him was the fountain of youth. Moral: "A heart that loves is always young." —Greek proverb 442

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Field Mouse Field Mouse was leading his friend Blind Mouse slowly through the rocky field. He spotted Eagle swooping down from above. "Wait right here, Blind Mouse. I'll be right back." Moral: "Who ceases to be a friend never was one." —Greek proverb 443

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Cottontail Cottontail told Hare not to ever give her flowers, because it was pointless. Hare never did. A few months later, Hare found Cottontail weeping. When asked what was wrong, she replied that Hare must not love her, since he never brought her flowers. Hare immediately went out to get her flowers. When he gave them to Cottontail, she became very mad. "I told you I don't like flowers because they're stupid!" she told Hare. Hare was beginning to become confused and upset himself. He mumbled an apology. When he came back later to work things out, Cottontail looked at him disapprovingly. “What did I do this time?" Hare asked exasperated. "You didn't bring flowers to apologize with!" Moral: "Women are irrational." —Great cosmic truth. 444

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Naked Mole Rat and the Bat Once upon a time there was a naked mole rat. He was not the prettiest creature to burrow in the rich brown earth, but that didn’t bother him much. After all, his mother loved him and thought he was beautiful. Of course, that’s only because she, like other naked mole rats, was blind. The young naked mole rat grew up with a feeling of being oppressed and depressed. Living un derground will do that to you. He constantly complained about being stuck down there in the muck, being unable to see. He wanted to get out and feel the fresh air on his face. But he never did. After all, he was blind. His mother heard his complaints sympathetically as all mothers do. After a while, she did some thing else all mothers have to do. She had a big group of good, upstanding, lawabiding bullies per sonally escort him out of the burrows. They were only too glad to oblige, since they were tired of lis tening to him complain about his problems. They all had them. Even though he did get the wish he’d been talking about the whole time, he was upset. He re ally only wanted to get their sympathy. While he moaned in the night, mosquitoes began to bite him. He no sooner started to scurry off when a giant thing collided into him. “Excuse me, I couldn’t see you there. My radar’s messed up.” “Radar?” the naked mole rat asked. “Yeah, it’s how I see. I’m blind,” said the bat. “Me, too. It’s awful.” “No it isn’t. It’s wonderful!” “Oh, you must’ve hit your head harder than I thought when you collided with me.” “No, I’m fine. Being blind was the best thing that happened to me. At first it was hard. But then I realized that it was just an opportunity. It dawned on me that I didn’t need sight to see. I can still fly just as high and well.” Moral: Life is what you make of it. 445

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Kangaroo and the Horse Kangaroo was hopping around quite free exploring the Outback. There was much to see today, and plenty of exercise to get. As he was journeying about he ran across a strange creature. "Hello, how are you?" he greeted it. The creature looked at Kangaroo like a rabbit watching a little kid throw away carrots, which is to say that it was full of startled curiosity and hope. However, it did not reply. "I say, who are you?" The creature made a strange, wet sound like a hippopotamus blowing its nose. "Well, Mr. ummm...." Kangaroo was uncertain if he wanted to try to pronounce its name. After all, he didn't want to embarrass himself, and some animals can become quite offended if you mispro nounce their names. "You certainly aren't familiar to these parts." There was more awkward silence. Kangaroo figured that he was already this far in; he might as well continue. "By the way, what exactly are you?" With the most peculiar accent, the creature responded, "I am a gift horse." "Oh, I see. Pardon me for never having met or heard of a gift horse before. But what exactly is it you do?" "I give presents. I was actually sent here to give a musical instrument to the next animal that passed this way." "Oh, did Santa send you?" "Not exactly, but we work for the same guy. So, would you like to make music?" "Would I!" "Wonderful. If you could just give me a hand with the straps, it's what I'm using right now." With that, the Kangaroo began further investigation. There was something metallic pushed to the back of the gift horse's mouth and leather straps ran from it around the head and into the bushes. Kangaroo pried open Horse's mouth, examining his not so pearly whites. He pushed a finger into Horse's mouth to feel the instrument, inadvertently tickling the gums in the process. Despite the nauseatingly bad breath, he was satisfied. This must be some kind of special harmonica that had to be in the right place. "If you don't mind me asking, why are you using the gift that you were going to give me? Isn't that a little impolite?" "No. I was just testing for quality assurance. The Outback is a large place, and I may never see you again. I just want you to be satisfied with the product, since there are no returns or exchanges." "Oh, well, that was awfully kind of you." Convinced, the Kangaroo began removing straps so that he could use his new, if slightly slobbery, instrument. "Thank you for your assistance, Sir," Horse replied. "It's so dreadfully hard for me to put it on and off with these hooves, and I wouldn't want to scratch it." "Don't mention it. You don't mind if I try it now, do you?" "Oh, no, not at all. Just put the bridle bit in your mouth and put the straps on tight. They have to be just right for it to work." 446

More Heresies from Iyan Igma "Bridle bit? Is that was you call this harmonica?" "Yes." When the Kangaroo had the bridle on snugly, Horse bid his farewells, explaining that he had other gifts that he must give. With that, he was a cloud of dust to the horizon. Kangaroo started blowing on the bridle bit, but though plenty of saliva came out, little music was produced. Nevertheless, this was to be expected. He had learned long ago from his uncle Joe that one must practice long and hard to play music. "There you are! One minute I go looking for a suitable tree to keep my privacy from the walla bies, and the next minute I don't see you anywhere." This startled the Kangaroo who had been quite intent on practicing. He was actually a bit em barrassed to realize that someone may have heard his feeble attempts. Then, Kangaroo looked around, searching for the source of the voice. When he spotted it, he carefully scrutinized the new comer, trying to determine if the strange twolegged creature was addressing someone else. There was no one else around. “I thought I'd lost you. I knew this strange land does funny things to your head. It must have turned you into one of those bouncing creatures, too.“ The thing approached Kangaroo, grabbed the reins that were stuck in the bushes, and Kanga roo could not escape as it mounted his back and dug in its spurs. Moral: Beware of gifts with strings. 447

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Spider and Wasp Once upon a time there was a very ambitious spider. He had few friends because he always considered himself too good to have them. Naturally, no selfrespecting insect wants to hang around with an arachnid who thinks that it is better than everyone else. Spider prided himself in spinning the most intricate weaves in his webs. Other arthropods would come from meters around in awe of his designs. Even his neighbours begrudgingly admitted that he exhibited the utmost skill. The greater his following became, the more spider felt like he had to outdo himself. The pressure mounted and mounted. He lost sleep at night wondering how his new web would best the old. The lack of shuteyes was really getting to him. His mother tried to warn him not to worry, that everyone would still like him with simple de signs. He should just be happy with whom he was. Perhaps he should focus on spinning webs which would actually capture his lunch, because he had missed far too many meals due to his rising popu larity. Everyone knew where to find him, and, consequently, how to avoid being caught in his webs. Of course, he knew that no one liked him, so he never followed her advice. After all, how would she know what she was talking about. She was only a parent. What do they know? But, somewhat begrudgingly, he did decide to follow a small bit of her advice. He could stand to dehydrate a few more meals. His current webs were ineffective for the task, since he usually en tangled himself more than anything else. Thus, Spider decided to become the best trapper known to arachnids. Bugs would fear his name. And no one would see his webs until it was too late. Because of his devotion, he was able to trap any insect that he set his mind on. Naturally, that meant that all those meanie neighbours of his perished in his booby traps. Except for one, of course. Nothing that Spider could do could trap Wasp. It was far too clever for him. It always narrowly avoided his nearly invisible threads. Then, Wasp would come and mock Spider, always hovering just out of reach. One day, when Wasp had yet again foiled Spider's plan and was, yet again, flying just out of Spider's reach Spider yelled out, "If you think you're so smart, why don't you come down here. I'll show you a thing or two." Of course, since Spider was quite irate, he let loose a string of arthropodic expletives (which are far too shocking to include here because of the delicate minds of some readers.) Wasp, either out of curiosity, boredom, or a longing for cloture, obliged. She zoomed down, and before Spider could say anything, stung Spider right smartly in the be hind. Spider felt very drowsy. His tirade slowed to a standstill, and he vaguely recalled being dragged into a hole. Then, the hole was covered with dirt and leaves. Of course, Spider didn't mind. He need some rest after all of his work spinning webs and trying to avenge himself of everyone that had made his life miserable, as if others made one miserable and not one's own reactions to life, peo ple, and events. Later, he had the odd sensation that something was nibbling on his bottom. But, still being quite sedated, he didn't realize that the larva that Wasp had laid inside of his exoskeleton had 448

More Heresies from Iyan Igma hatched and was on the rampage. Sadly, he was far too gone to stop Wasp's larva from feeding on him. Indeed, one might say that vengeance consumed him. Moral: Don't let things get under your skin. 449

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Meerkat and Magpie Meerkat was very sensitive. He was also very selfcritical. He didn't think that others would really like him for who he was inside. He didn't see himself as having anything to offer to anyone else, besides his toys. Secretly, Meerkat loved his toys. When he played with them, he forgot about how worthless he should feel. He was able to truly live inside his imagination, pretending that he was great and pow erful and noble. He dreamed that he was his favourite toy, the stag. However, Meerkat would never let others know how he felt about himself, his toys, and espe cially the stag. He didn't want to be made fun of. After all, having a role model is silly. One might actually emulate them in some way and become a better creature. Whenever the others would come around, they would always ask to play with his toys. Meerkat didn't really want to let them, but he was what is called a pushover. It's a type of animal that others can easily pushover, either physically or emotionally or both. As you can tell, Meerkats aren't all that creative, otherwise they would have come up with a more confusing and scientific name. So it was that all the other animals would use his toys, sometimes breaking them, but Meerkat would say nothing. He didn't mind too much, because he always kept his favourite toy hidden. One animal in particular, Magpie, would always ask to take a toy home to play with. Some times his action figure crows would be returned. Sometimes only parts of them would come back. Sometimes Magpie would take his little gray Army hippos. If and when they would come back, they would have beak marks all over them. And let us not speak of his transforming guineas, whose heads often wound up in the most unspeakable of places. But, Meerkat always obliged Magpie whenever she would ask. It was not because she was pretty, since all girls are gross. He simply let her have her way because he was a pushover. No matter how much it bothered him, he could never tell her, or anyone else, "no." One day, while he was playing with his stag, Magpie entered silently. "I like your hart, Meerkat," Magpie said. Meerkat looked up startled and horrified. She'd caught him playing with his stag doll, and she had told him that she had a crush on him! He was going to be sick. He might not make it through the day. Somehow resisting the urge to faint, Meerkat replied, "Um, thanks, Magpie, I guess. But you can't have my heart. You have cooties." "Not your HEART heart, but your HART hart, silly. You're too disgusting for me." "Oh, thank goodness!" Meerkat exclaimed, heaving a sigh of relief with all of his might, just like one would heave a crocodile from a waterhole. "By the way, what's a hart?" "It's your deer, silly. That's one of the names for a male deer." Meerkat was beginning to grow very nervous at the mention of his deer. He was considering hiding him behind his back, though it would have done no good at this point. But then, Magpie con tinued quickly. "He looks really cool, can I play with him?" 450

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Meerkat had dreaded this moment for ages. Why did she have to ask? Why couldn't he just tell her no? Why couldn't he just be like the stag? Why did he have to ask so many useless questions? Reluctantly, Meerkat said, "Okay." Magpie couldn't really understand the squeak he made through gritted teeth, but she knew from experience that she was free to play. She grabbed the hart and began to play with it. Just about that time, a faint twitter called her home. "Mom says I have to go home because she's slaved all afternoon to prepare a nice, regurgitated meal for me." Meerkat's hope began to rise. Soon, he would be all alone playing with his stag again. "But, since I really didn't get a chance to play with your hart, can I just take it with me?" Meerkat nearly fainted this time. Only his selfsacrificial need to say "yes," kept him conscious long enough for her to gleefully take his hart and leave, never to be seen again. Meerkat watched her leave, feeling like his life was empty and over with. He wept the tears of those who knew that they would soon be brokenharted. Moral: “Give [crows] and [hippos] and guineas, but never your [hart] away1270.“ 1270 Give...away: referencing A. E. Housman's “Give crowns and pounds and guineas, but never your heart away.” 451

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Pouch As Kangaroo was bouncing along with nowhere on her mind, she saw Rabbit exhausted and resting by the roadside. Seeing the fuzzy creature there, seemingly helpless and in need of a mother, Kangaroo inevitably began to think about her Joey. He had left her not long ago. After all of that time in which he was her faithful companion and loving dependent, she be came quite saddened. She would do just about anything to be able to have that same feeling again. Thus it was that she invited Rabbit to rest in her pouch for a while as they journeyed on. Rabbit was only too happy to oblige. He had eaten all of the grass in that particular portion of the land and could use the extra speed in getting to a new place to devastate. So, in he went. It was far more comfortable than he expected, being quite roomy and warm. They had not journeyed far when they saw Snake. He seemed to be making no progress slither ing on along. On seeing Rabbit in the pouch, he ventured, "Might I be so bold as to ask for a ride, Kangaroo?" "I don't know...." Kangaroo hesitated. Rabbit was squirming around franticly, trying to signal that it was a bad idea. However, Kan garoo still felt that motherly need. After giving assurances that he would not eat Rabbit until they had gotten out of the pouch, Snake was allowed to board. Needless to say, Rabbit had determined not to leave the pouch as long as Snake was there. Snake, for his part, was determined not to leave the pouch without dinner. Thus, locked in an im passe, the three of them continued on, eventually running across Spider. Spider managed to secure a ride in the pouch, too. But he had to promise not to spin any webs, lay any eggs, or sting the passengers. It defeated the initial purposes for his journey, but, staring re morsefully at Rabbit's heretofore uninhabited ear, he boarded. Farther down they came across Emu. Emu was quite a speedster, but today was feeling lazy. When she saw that everyone else was getting free passage, she determined that she would like to go for a Joey ride, too. Somehow, they managed to fit her inside the pouch, though not without rustling some of her feathers. A little ways farther they picked up another passenger, although Kangaroo was noticeably tired. But, the Tasmanian Devil was far from home. Surely it would be a small thing to get him home before his species went extinct. Kangaroo's pouch, however, was no longer a small thing. She would definitely have severe stretch marks after this. Lumbering down the road was a porcupine. No one was thrilled when he boarded, but he did look like a chap who needed a life. Although the pouch was quite crowded at this point, everyone made room for Porcupine. While crossing the brush, Kangaroo saw other kangaroos hopping so freely about, unfettered, and bouncing high into the air. She stopped, realizing how tiresome her trip had been, and how close to the ground she had stayed. It was then that she began to realize that she too could once hop so high before she tried to take care of everyone else, burdening herself down with others' cares, even though they could take care of themselves. As she stood transfixed, watching freedom and joy leap away, Dingo spotted the crew and de 452

More Heresies from Iyan Igma cided to get in and enjoy a free ride, too. Kangaroo figured, 'Why not? Everyone else is taking advantage of me.' However, there are certain reasons that Kangaroos should never let dogs have a free ride, as it soon became apparent to her. For at that very moment Dingo did what any canine would do. He de cided to mark his territory. "Ah! He's not pouch broken!" everyone began to scream. Porcupine stang Dingo, who left yelping, and Porcupine's quills jostled the others while he es caped. Rabbit got out, trying to save her fur. However, Rabbit was eaten by Snake as soon as she left. Then, Snake was stepped on by Emu who was stung by Spider. Spider would have come out unscathed, had it not been for the Tasmanian Devil's tail, which was twitching violently from where he lay trapped underneath the now defunct Emu. Now, Kangaroo was all alone with quite a mess to clean up. Moral: Be careful who you let ride in your pouch 453

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Platypus Platypus was not always so confused. When he started out, he was just a simple creature, nothing extraordinary. He had no duck bills. He had no beaver tail, nor did he have the feet of an otter. Platypus did not lay eggs like a chicken. He did not have venom like snakes. In fact, Platypus did not have much of anything to speak of. He was just a ball of fur with large eyes and gangly legs which didn't know what he wanted to be when he grew up. As anyone who has ever gone to school before knows, such an awkward appearance is a recipe for teasing and torture. Platypus tried to overcome this by adapting. He started hanging around the ducks because they couldn't quite waddle away fast enough. Being the lone fur ball, he tried to fit in. He started swim ming, and he learned how to dive and hunt for food with the ducks. That wasn't quite enough for them. They still treated him like he was different, although they tolerated his presence since he helped them catch supper. So, Platypus decided that he would take it one step further. He would grow duck bills just like they had. Then, they would have to accept him as one of their own. His plan failed. The ducks were actually taken aback by this strange sight. He was voted offi cially too uncool to be a member of the duck incrowd, supper or no supper. Platypus was devas tated. He had lost his fairweather friends and he was stuck with the most outrageous lips. Plus, it was difficult to afford the lip balm necessary to keep them from staying chapped. Finding himself down on his luck, Platypus swam along trying to figure out what he would do next. As luck would unfortunately have it, he ran across the enterprising old Beaver. Beaver saw his duckbills and immediately knew that he'd hit the jackpot. Now he would finally be able to fell some trees to fix his dam, since Beaver's own teeth had long since been lost. Greeting Platypus, he offered him a warm place to stay for the evening meal. Platypus had eaten worse, but he had not been so warmly welcomed in quite some time. He was sure that he had finally found a true friend who would accept him for who he was. The next morning, Beaver, having already won Platypus's trust and loyalty, asked for a tri fling favour. Platypus was only too eager and grateful to oblige. Then, after the first few times that Beaver used him as an axe, he began to develop a splitting headache. But having given his loyalty and word, Platypus was not about to let a friend down. He was only all too grateful when Beaver let him down, though. He immediately collapsed to the ground like an incredibly dizzy turkey. Beaver eyed him worriedly. He couldn't have his new axe failing on the first go around. After a careful perusal, Beaver figured that Platypus wouldn't be go ing anywhere for the next little while. So, he left him and finished his work, having gotten what he needed. Platypus would probably have never seen Beaver again, but for the dance. He had lain there so disoriented that it was nightfall when he could rejoin the world of the confused living. He had de termined, somewhere in the rainbow of pain and sea of colours, that he would part company with Beaver. But then he heard a strange noise coming from Beaver's new dam. There were sounds of celebration and music played gaudily. Beaver was throwing a party in 454

More Heresies from Iyan Igma honour of his recently renovated home. Beavers from all around were singing and dancing. Their thick tails were plunking on the ground wildly, and they spun each other around. 'What do happy creatures look like?' he wondered. Curiosity got the better of him, so he went to look. When he edged to the back of the crowd, Beaver immediately spotted him and welcomed him with open arms. He gave him some willow bark to chew1271 and announced to everyone that Platypus was the hero of the day. At that point, all the female Beavers wanted to dance with him. He was really rusty at danc ing, which was only exacerbated1272 more by his lack of a tail. Balancing and tailplunking were im possible to do. But that was easy enough to solve. He'd grown duckbills, why not a tail? With his new addition he almost became quite the lady's man. Platypus had a fine life as Beaver's friend. He was constantly taken advantage of and abused. He actually developed battered Platypus syndrome. But Beaver needed him and there seemed to al ways be dances and riotous living. What else could he need? Besides heavy pain killers, of course. Eventually the migraines became too relentless and crip pling. Platypus was brought to his senses. With tears of pain and joy, he ceased to be Beaver's friend, and headed out into the world one night, looking for a place where he could fit in. There happened to be some passing otters along the way. Since a beaver's tail is unmistakable, they hailed him like a long lost cousin. He felt fortunate to have found friends so quickly. Platypus went swimming with them by moonlight, and made his back feet grow webbing between the toes to mimic them. It was a glorious night, cracking clam shells on his belly and spitting. Life could not have been better. At least until the otters woke up and took a good look at him in the clear morning light. They were certain that he was not a beaver. Not only that, they derided him as a freak. As he left amidst their mocking and splashing, he was heartbroken. Here he had opened himself up hoping to receive love, only to find out that it was just a meaningless one night fling. As he was out wandering, he happened upon a chicken roost. Hen was actually startled to see him at first. She saw the bills, and hid. After all, she had enough bills of her own to pay as it was. But when she thought about it, she figured that he must be a duck. Looking at his tail, though, she guessed he must have gotten into a fight with a wicked weasel and lost. That would explain all the furry down he was covered in. Indeed, he was a very strange and furry duck. She took sympathy on him, in large part because she was in a bind. She wasn't producing enough eggs to make ends meet1273. Since the thing had duckbills, surely it could lay eggs, too. When she mentioned this to Platypus, he was quite startled. But, he was used to being taken advantage of to have socalled friends, and he really didn't want to disappoint her. Again, he succumbed1274 to peer pressure. That is, Platypus began to lay eggs. It was an odd sensation at first, almost like being constipated. But with time he grew more and more used to it. 1271 Willow...chew: Aspirin 1272 Exacerbated: made worse 1273 Ends meet: or ends' meat, if you prefer. 1274 Succumbed: gave in 455

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Hen was astounded with his progress. The more he laid, the happier she seemed, so the more eggs he laid. He eventually found out that he had set himself up for failure. Hen had stopped being grateful for his help after a while. Now she expected, nay, demanded higher and higher production. She al most never laid eggs now and became quite forceful with him. Platypus could not handle living with an overbearing woman. So, in the middle of the night he took an egg that he had let sit aside souring for several weeks, and he put it above her head on a ledge. Just before he shut the coop door, he slammed his beaver tail down hard. The egg toppled from the ledge and landed right on the floor in front of her, exploding everywhere. Though he tried to flee quickly, his little otter feet were none too swift. The stench of the ran cid egg coated him. Nothing he could do would make the horror go away. His only consolation was that Hen must be suffering far worse. And, in the end, the eggs had inadvertently helped him make new friends with a den of snakes. The snakes were basically too blind to notice that he looked strange. Their tongues had already whipped around tasting the air around him. They were determined to never do that again, for he smelled very unappetizing. So it is that he was allowed to stay and not be consumed. Platypus wanted to fit in with the snakes. He had changed himself to fit in with everyone else, so what should he change now? Scales? No. He had enough problems with chapped duckbills; dry scales were out of the question. He was also keen on keeping his legs, despite the webbed toes. The forkedtongue was simply too creepy. That didn't leave much more than getting venomous fangs. Since he couldn't grow fangs in its mouth because of the bills, he figured that his ankles would work. The snakes, however, were not impressed. Especially since he was something of a klutz on land and was always stepping on them, accidentally poisoning the innocent byslitherers. He was very fortunate that he smelled so unappetizing, or they would have stung him. But bad hygiene can commute1275 vengeance. Sadly, Platypus was eventually banished from the midst of the snakes. He avoided everyone for some time, trying to find himself. At length, he realized that he didn't have to change himself to fit in with others. If they couldn't accept him as their friend, then they weren't worth being friends with anyway. Platypus wished he'd made up his mind long ago who he was going to be and had the gump 1276 tion to stick to it despite peer pressure. As he began to accept himself for who he was, idiosyncra sies and all, and ultimately to love himself, the funniest thing happened. He began to be indepen dently happy. Moral: Try not to poison the only ones who could even remotely be called your friends. 1275 Commute: delay 1276 Gumption: courage; tenacity 456

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Pachyderm Who Forgave There was a simple pachyderm1277 who scarcely would hurt a flea. He got along with everyone he knew, perhaps because his gargantuan size intimidated them all. After all, he was the biggest and strongest. Being a simpleminded creature, he had developed his life around certain patterns. Every morn ing he would get up, blare through his trunk like it were a trumpet as he stretched, and then head for the watering hole. Then, he would go forage for food. Later, he would wallow around taking a mud bath. At the end of a long, hard, grueling day of eating, mudbathing, and eating again, he would head back home. One day, he groggily headed down the same old path to the watering hole. He was minding his own business, when suddenly a field mouse ran out of the Savannah grasses squeaking, "Boo!" This startled the pachyderm so much that he nearly leapt out of his hide. For a creature that weighs a few tons, that is quite a sight to see. He landed on the ground with a thud, looking around all bewildered. But by that time the mouse was nowhere to be seen. Preoccupied, he wound his way on down to the watering hole. He reached his trunk down like a long dog's tongue, though he would not lap but slurp the water. He was thinking about the morn ing's encounter so much that his trunk was nearly full of mud before he noticed. The rest of his day, eating, mud baths, and all, he was off kilter and slightly congested. When nightfall fell, he convinced himself that the encounter with the mouse was merely some kind of groggy nightmare. Satisfied, he went soundly to sleep, vowing that tomorrow would be bet ter. When tomorrow came, it was then today. But the pachyderm, being a simple beast, did not get caught up with such trifling matters. He had more insignificant things to do than ponder the life and times and workings of the universe. Naturally, he'd forgotten about the furry pest. When his yawns and assorted noises had awakened everyone in the vicinity, he headed for the waterhole. En route, he was startled once again as the rat came out wearing an aboriginal mask, squeaking bloody murder. Needless to say, the pachyderm went berserk. As a wave of fear washed over him, he convinced himself that he had seen a ghost. A very furry ghost. Each day, he was startled by the savage little fiend. Each day the pachyderm screamed like a little howler monkey. Everywhere he went he was ridiculed by his friends. It was not because he was terrified by such a small thing that they teased him. Instead, they mocked him because he was an elephant, and yet he forgot to watch out every day. Some memory he had! His routine, and therefore his life, was suffering. His food was unappetizing. Mud had lost its glamorous appeal. He was scarcely able to sleep. This impaired his mind even further. Another morning found him, and frizzled he rose. A couple of minutes later he was on his way to the watering hole. His lids were leaden, and somehow he forced his feet right on along. Something in the back of his mind nagged at him. He knew that there was something that he should remember. It was something important. A 1277 Pachyderm: elephant 457

More Heresies from Iyan Igma matter of life and death. But this vital information was completely forgotten. With his memory in shambles, he just wished he knew what the cause was. He wasn't always this way, but for the life of him couldn't remember why. So focused was he on trying to remember what was bothering him, that he did not notice when the mouse sprang from the Savannah holding a spear and doing a Tongan war dance. The mouse was so certain the pachyderm would be terrified that he kept dancing as the feet came closer and closer. The mouse watched as the foot came crashing down like an ant caught in the path of a fall ing tree. His last thought was, "Isn't afraid of Tongans. Try IRS." With one mighty step, the minuscule body was no more. As rodent guts and gore seeped around his foot like warm mud, the pachyderm remembered that there was a mouse. An evil little naughty mouse, possibly a poltergeist. It should be at this very spot... He paused, and slowly the stimulus from his warm, gooey foot reached the elephant's addled brain. As the realization of what had happened dawned on him, the pachyderm was once again filled with a sense of shock. Slowly, he raised his foot. Staring at the bloody mess, he lamented the poor dead creature. "You deserved it," he said full of tenderness. In his own way, he had forgiven it. Then, he scraped off the grotesque remains in the Savannah grasses like they were dog drop pings. Now that order had been restored to his world, he headed on down to the water hole, putting the past behind him. He was finally able to have a good day. Moral: You have to forgive in order to move on with your life. 458

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The Flamingo There once was a flamingo that stuck in place where he had crash landed in someone's front lawn. He seemed injured from the landing, but he staunchly refused to ask for help. Instead, he stood very, very still. He would watch the other birds fly, yet he could never quite spread his wings. Everyday people walked by, barely noticing his elegant pink feathers or his poise. Time passed, and his wings still wouldn't work. He began to get cabin fever there in his head, because he had no one to talk to. As if by Divine Intervention, his prayers were answered, because one day the wind happened to turn him a little and noticed that there was another flamingo there. She was beautiful. At least, he thought it was a she. She must have been attracted by his feathers and come to investigate. He tried to talk to her, but she never responded. But then, women can be quite coy and irra tional. His attempts for meaningful communications never ceased, and every day he would sing her songs in Spanish, wishing that he could still dance and thereby impress her. She never even seemed to notice. One day, while he was doing his best to grab her attention, a dog came by. The flamingo stood very still, since he could not fly. He did not want the beast to eat him. It walked very slowly up to him, and his dread grew. Dark brown eyes and a wet snout stared him in the face. The slightest moisture could be detected when the dog exhaled. Flamingo really wanted to wet his feathers. But then, that would be mortifying, since she would definitely notice. He waited, full of bravado, wondering what the canine would do. It sniffed him. Then, it lifted a rear leg and covered him in a very unappealing cologne. Now, he would never get the girl. He wished he were dead. A few days later, the rain came down hard. It washed the stench off of him, but the winds blew him over. He lay there in the mud and muck being pelted with droplet fury, unable to stand be cause of his injuries. He was miserable. The next day he saw a giant thing approach him. It towered over him, and he welcomed death. It reached down and grabbed the flamingo, and he knew he was a goner. But then it gave him a jolt as it slammed him onto the ground. That couldn't possibly be good for his injured legs. 'Oh, great,' the flamingo thought wryly, 'I'm back where I started from.' Soon afterwards, a giant machine came his way. It was spewing grass on one side and smoke on the other. It circled him like a shark would taunt a bleeding person in the ocean. It would make its passes, and then disappear. He wanted to fly away, but his wings wouldn't work. He was help less. And then, death came straight for him. His whole life flashed before his eyes, and it made him depressed. Had he really been so boring, useless, and ignored for all of his life? The machine continued on, completely unaware of his depressing enlightenment. Well, at least it was no longer toying with him. It would finally do the job. It came on and on, bringing impend ing doom. Then, at the last minute, it swerved around him and showered him with grass. His misery would continue after all. Moral: Life sucks if you're made of plastic. 459

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Am I Dreaming? So, I just woke up a little while ago, having had the most bizarre dream. For starters I was floating down the Ganga1278 in India with my old pal Peyton. We were chasing some pretty evil vil lains that were killing people, and then dumping their bodies into the river. That was neither very nice nor sanitary. Oh, and they were after a sacred item which they were going to use as a weapon of mass destruction (No, I haven’t been watching Indiana Jones lately.) After determining what they were after, we hid among the dead bodies floating down the river. They were quite pleasant and engaging company. Somehow we figured that since what they wanted was at the other end of the river, the quickest way to get there would be to float down it. However, before we made it too far from the compound, we spotted an officer giving speeding tickets to any unruly corpse floating downstream too quickly. We knew it would not do to be caught. We ducked under the water, just in time to avoid being caught by Chattam. When we sur faced, I greeted two people walking upstream. I didn’t understand what they were saying to me, but I had a nice time nodding my head at them and grinning. That is, until I read the subtitles dis played in my mind's projection. “Beware of the 24mile Cuban.” 'Hmmm. Is that a long cigar? It could definitely do some damage to someone’s lungs.' I’d tried to thank them, but the current was swift, and they were long gone. Suddenly, the river turned into a 24 mile long string of rapids. It was actually really fun. It ended with Peyton and I getting sucked down a spiraling slide where the Ganga had been turned into a water park. At the time, I didn’t find anything extraordinary or sacrilegious about that at all. As Peyton and I were going down the slide repetitively, having already forgotten our quest to save the world, I spotted Shaffer. I hopped off the slide to try to find him. I tracked him inside of a building, but he disappeared as soon as he entered. But, not to worry, Will and a bunch of my old mission pals (and not so pals) were having a chess tournament. Figures; they didn’t invite me. Well, surprisingly, they were happy to see me. They waved me over, and we started talking. Then, Will went to pan gold in the river. I was curious why he didn’t take the gold that he’d al ready found out of the pan, but I figured he might have wanted to feel good about himself, just in case he didn’t find anything new. When I got to the shore, I realized that the bundt cake pan I was holding wasn’t going to do much good. So naturally I let him do all the work, and meanwhile I ram bled about talking to old comrades, like Colonel Walker, who only said one thing to me, “Hi, Chief.” Then, he walked off with another officer. I ran around talking to more Pelhamites. Then, I saw Will leaving the water. I helped him get over the rocks, and then he showed me his spoils. What on earth were those things? Ah, kinda sorta like grapes. We sat down next to some vines that were lethal enough to kill us instantly should we touch them. Completely unconcerned for our health, we began to eat the grapelikethingees. It was quite an isolated moment, hiding from everyone in the bushes. I must have had bad breath. As we ate, we heard a sound like that of a warthog rustling through a tree behind us. We fi nally spotted the culprit, it was a squirrel breathing very, very loudly as he ate the grapelike things that we had. Will threw one over at him, trying to make him come closer. When the grapething hit 1278 Ganga: Ganges river in India, the sacred waterway 460

More Heresies from Iyan Igma a patch of similar grapelike fruit near the squirrel, they exploded, taking the squirrel with them. It was a real shame. We kept on eating, not worrying about the potential side effects like explosive burps or diarrhea. After a bit, we went back inside. Will told me he was writing books, and showed me the un finished manuscripts to his life story and about 100 pages of the Furry Paladin. I started telling him the 3 most important things that one must do in order to be a good writer. First, write at least three pages every day. It doesn’t matter about what or in what style. Just write. Then, get to really know your character. At that point, an old lady materialized lying on the sofa behind us. She began to bicker with me. She told Will that I was an ignoramus, and he didn’t have to know his characters to be a good writer. We argued back and forth a bit like an old married couple that truly wished that they had divorced, notwithstanding the kids, would do. After I told her that she didn’t know what she was talking about, she dismissed me as if I didn’t know what I was talking about. “Have you ever written any books, then?” she queried. “Yes. Several,” I responded “Oh,” she said, sounding beaten. After quieting the old, blanketcovered hag, I was having quite the time trying to determine what the third thing should be. I knew what it was when I had begun to tell Will the other two mustdos. But now it completely eluded me. So, I made up something, which sounded good at the time, though I didn’t really think it was the third thing. I told him to “Know thyself, that you don’t put yourself in your own story.” Natu rally, that’s impossible. Every story has a byline1279 somewhere. Maybe I should have told him to fo cus on the audience instead. “Oh, and don’t be surprised if you do far more thinking about your books than writing. The stories will tell you when they're ready to be written.” He looked up from his Chinese characters, which I didn’t find it weird for him to be writing in at all, since by this time the world was already dominated by China, and he smiled. Then the dream ended. I didn’t even get to kiss a girl. After thinking long and hard, I realized that this dream was more than just a random assort ment of halflucid moments and confused desires. This nocturnal daydream did, in fact, have a meaning. I interpreted it as, “Try not to chew on electric lines.” It is a very wise message, which I shall try to take to heart in the future. 1279 Byline: on the title page it says “something” by “so and so.” That's a byline. 461

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Rustic Sense "I can't believe that you still have an outhouse, Dad." The old man looked up from the jigsaw puzzle halfassembled on a thin sheet of plywood that was perched on his lap. He had been completing it to the rhythm of the swing's faint squeaks. A smile as big as South Dakota split his stubbly face. "Well, I can't understand why anyone would want something different. Look at it. It's a beau tiful work of art. Simple. Utilitarian. Smelly. I don't have to worry about it getting clogged or small leaks wasting all my water. I don't have to call a plumber if roots eat into the septic lines or fret about the pipes freezing." "No, but you do have to worry about your rear end freezing." "No, I don't worry about that. It's just a given. It's refreshing; keeps you from staying too long. But I'm sure you didn't come all this way just to hassle me about my outhouse, especially since you know we have indoor plumbing, too." "No, I didn't. We came to visit." "Well, welcome home, son." "Thanks, dad. It's good to see you,” he said as he bent over giving him half of a hug with one arm. “Good to see you too, son. I'd ask what's been keeping you, but I know you'll just say that you've been busy. So, to what do I owe the rare blessing of your company?” “Well, I figure that this is the only month out of the year warm enough and safe enough to come this close to Canada. You still haven't found the fountain of youth, I see. You're looking as old as ever." "Thank heavens! I wouldn't want to be young again, especially not now. I'm glad I got all of that confusion and misery and endless string of mistakes out of the way already. Glad your mom's old, too. If anything happened to her, you couldn't pay me enough to marry a silly young thing again. Full of nonsense. Too immature. By the way, where's your other half? You two haven't been. . . on the rocks have you?" "No, no. We're still doing fine. The girls slipped in earlier, and they are no doubt sharing juicy gossip about us with Mom right now. . . .” “I see.” “No, you didn't. You were so intent on your puzzle you didn't even hear the screen door bang shut behind them. You know how small women's bladders are, and how few stops there are in the great, forgotten unknown around here." "Yeah. That's why you need to get a portable, tentframe style outhouse. She won't have to squirm around waiting for an inhabited exit then." "She'd really leave me if I even suggested that." "I reckon. Modern girls. They're too feminine, and yet they can't even cook. They make the men soft, too. I wonder if anyone knows how to survive roughing it any more. But here I am rambling on about outhouses again. What's that thing you brought with you. Odd looking gift." "It's called your grandson. He's just experimenting with hair styles right now." 462

More Heresies from Iyan Igma "You sure he's my grandson? He don't talk much." "He's too busy with his electronic virtual world. It's probably the only place he's got a life." "Hmm. I see. Well, don't just stand there with your hands in your pockets. Come sit down with me on the swing and we'll piddle around with this puzzle. I used to do them with my greatgrand mother just the same way. If I'd only learned what she was trying to teach me then...." "We don't have to do one on that sheet of plywood and get splinters in our fingers, Dad. We can do one on my. . . ." "I don't care about your gadgets, son," the old man said with a voice that for once took on some force. The son was understandably startled, his hand frozen in midair where it was about to reach to his hip. Softening a little, the father continued, "They're bad on the eyes. Bad on the brain. Bad for per sonal skills." The son gave his father a dubious look, which was correctly interpreted. "Don't look at me like I'm some out of touch old coot. I know what I am talking about here. Don't you remember? I used to design and develop these very things." "Pishposh, old man. What you developed was nothing compared to what these devices can do now." "You think that, not remembering that that thing you hold now exists because of my genera tion's discoveries and advances. Not that you thank us for our obsolete technology and bulky equip ment." "You gonna stand out there and not bother saying a word to your old ma?" an old and tender voice prodded through the window. "Of course not, Mom. Be in in a second." "Son, you might want to put a bag over his head before you take him inside," the old man said, gesturing at his grandson with his long hair in bright orange dreadlocks. The teenager was lost in his device at the moment, having long ago realized that anything his entertainment dohickey created would be better than staring at bleak South Dakota pass by or listening to his grandparents yam mer. It was a good thing, too. "I don't think your mom would take too kindly to having a wigger in our woodpile." "All right, dad. You can be old, but you don't have to be crude." "I'm not crude, just joking. Besides when you get as old as I am, some things like being politi cally correct just don't matter." "Still, don't give him grief dad. You know how sensitive teenagers are with their hormonal im balances." "I know precisely how unstable they are. They don't really think right yet. But don't worry, I'm not going to hassle him. But you know your mother. She's the one that freaked out when you dyed your hair orange." "Yeah, I remember. She tried to cut it off while I was asleep. She's easily surprised and less than understanding." "Yep, but she's a wonderful woman." 463

More Heresies from Iyan Igma "She'd have to be to put up with you all these decades!” “Agreed,” his father replied. “I do have a question, though. It's funny that I never thought to ask it before. . . ." "Yes, I'm really your father, and no I haven't written you out of my will. Yet." "Not the questions I had in mind. Yet. I was just curious. Why aren't you more like her?" "Do I really need to go into this now? I thought I gave you that talk a long while back. How else would you have had him?" "Ha ha, Dad. Real funny. I meant, why don't you get upset over things such as hair like Mom does?" "Because I realized a long time ago that a person has to spend a long time trying to be someone else before they can ever be satisfied with who they really are. That's why I didn't try to chop off your orange hair, no matter how ugly and silly it looked. Besides, I figured I'd take plenty of pic tures and blackmail you when you got rich." "Son, I've got your favourite, strawberry pie," his mother called out again. "Be inside in one second, Mom." "How'd she know to make strawberry pie for you?" his father asked baffled. "Because we told you both that we were coming long ago." "You did? I don't remember that." "You might not have been listening." "True. It's quite possible. I learned a while ago that when I don't listen to the world and all the daily, mundane bits that are broadcasted, I heard more of the things that matter, like my emotions." His son was about to reply when he heard his mother's voice yet again. "Junior!" "Coming, Mom!" he shouted back. "Sounds like you better go inside, son. I've heard that tone of voice before. Your visit might not be as pleasant otherwise." "Yeah. Excuse me, Dad. I'll leave you two to discuss woodpiles." With that, he went inside. The old man looked back at his grandson, but he was too lost in imaginary things. Alone, he started doing his puzzle again. While he was intently concentrating, something jostled his arm. It was his granddaughter, who was still so very young and innocent. 'There are only two states that people should be,' he thought to himself. 'Young and blissfully innocent and naïve, or dead. Everything else is no fun.' "Hi, sweetie," he said, at a loss for her name. "Do you want to swing with me and fix this old puzzle?" She nodded, and nestled in beside him, enjoying the swing, his warmth, the smell of Old Spice, and, allinall, the company. "Tell me a story, Papa," she pleaded. "All right, little one. I'll tell you a story that I don't think even your father would understand, simply because he won't listen. He's too hardheaded and stubborn like I used to be. I doubt he has your childlike ideals, either.” He looked into her eyes. “Never mind that, though. Time for the story.” "Once upon a time, there was a man who lived in America. He was young and strong and loved 464

More Heresies from Iyan Igma to work with technology. Lots of people thought that he was very smart, and he believed them. That young man was me." "Did he fall in love?" "Of course. Everyone does. He was lucky, though. The young woman he fell in love with loved him back. That doesn't always happen, and many people are sad until they can learn to love. But when two people love each other, it's like a fairy tale. Nothing seems to be able to stop them. Even though they have problems, they live happily ever after. Even when they get old, they still love each other, and now they have so many more reasons and memories to show them why love is so precious. "In fact, falling in love was the most important thing I ever did. I didn't realize it until a little later, because for a while I thought that all of the discoveries and work that I had done really mat tered. But they never gave me a son, two grandchildren, and a wonderful woman I've learned to de pend on like she was my legs. Work never gave me the joy and purpose a family can give." It was at this point that he heard her soft, almost whistlelike snores. "Poor thing. You're all plum tuckered out from the drive and my rambling. But don't worry, you can stay here and sleep. Papa's monotonous voice will make sure you rest well. Yes, love, I have had a wonderful life because of my family. I learned a lot of things along the way, which maybe you can learn one day much easier than I did." "What kinds of things?" The old man looked up, surprised to hear a new voice. "Ah, so you can speak. I was worried we'd lost you to that VR device for the whole visit." "No, you didn't. I was just trying to finish something. Besides, I really wanted to make sure that I would be safe, what with my hair and all." "With me, you're safe. It's your grandmother you have to worry about. So, how have things been treating you?" "All right, I guess." "You guess? You have a house?" "Yeah." "What about parents?" "Yeah." "You sick all the time?" "No." "Got plenty to eat?" "All right, all right. I get it. I'm pretty fortunate." "Yes, you are, son. Not to hassle you, but do you have a girlfriend?" "No, not any more." "Probably for the best. Otherwise you'd be wasting your money on someone else's wife. So, how's school going." "All right." "Learn anything new?" "No." "That's not surprising, given the way the America has consistently dumbed down its educa 465

More Heresies from Iyan Igma tional standards. Do you like school?" "Not really." "Well, friend to friend, even if you don't like it, and even if you think that it is a joke, which it is, stick in there. These days you need an MBA to sell drugs and a PhD in pharmacology to make them. If you don't stick in there, you won't have any money to waste on someone else's wife when you're dating, let alone enough to take care of a family. Heck, these days getting a 120% interest rate on a house is considered a steal. You're a bright kid; so's your hair. You can make it happen." "I hope so." "You can. You've got all you need, your mind and two hands. All you have to do is realize why you should believe in yourself, and you're all set. Thirty years from now you won't recognize your self. With luck I might still be around to blackmail you when you're all rich and famous." "Yeah, we'll see. So, do you have any advice for someone who's well on their way to becoming rich and famous?" "As a matter of fact, I do. Invest in the right things, the things that matter." "So, are those mutual funds, stocks, or treasury notes and bonds?" "A little of all of them, plus some cash and gold reserves and CDs. But those aren't the things that matter. Those are just tools." "What matters, then?" "Keeping yourself healthy and your family well and happy. You don't need a fortune to do that with, and that is worth more than anything that you can ever take to the bank or bequeath to some one when you're dead." "That sounds easy enough." "Well, it's a lot harder to pull off than you think. It's difficult to find and maintain the right balance between family, work, recreation, and alone time. It differs for everyone, and changes with circumstances. Whenever that balance is off, it's hard to stay healthy and happy. There are a lot of lies that society teaches you to be believe unquestioningly. Things such as America still being a su perpower, as well as our nutritional model. "I remember when America used to be a superpower. I also remember when Xinhua first re ported that China was the only world superpower. At that time, I thought, 'What about us?' Then I realized years later that we were all living in a delusional state. China could destroy us easily. We had no tabs on immigration and were stretched so thin with all of our endeavours, wars, and na tional debt. Our education was meaningless, our technological expertise was eclipsed by other na tions, and our monolingual kids were unprepared to participate in a global economy." "So, I decided to detach myself from the global economy as much as possible. I moved near the Badlands, since no one else in their right mind would want to live out here. Now I have a small, so larpowered, organic farm. I'm largely selfsufficient and unbothered by others. And you know what? I found what I had been missing with all of my busy years chasing technology and the green back American dream." "Outhouse stench?" his son said, joining them once more, not surprised to see his daughter curled up asleep next to her grandfather on the swing. There was something about the monotonous motion. Well, that and his voice.... The surprising thing was that his teenage son was listening almost in 466

More Heresies from Iyan Igma tently to every word. "No; happiness. It's almost impossible to have real happiness without simplifying your life and getting rid of all the nonessential things that vie for your time and make you worry and enslave you. You can't have peace if you're around too many people, because they're always trying to figure out how to take advantage of you." "That, son, is called paranoia," the boy's father said as he stepped out of the house. He drew his own father's attention when he uttered those words. Then, he softly reprimanded by a voice colored with undertones of exasperation. "You'll understand one day, son. Either that, or you'll be bald and riddled with ulcers and can cer thanks to your heartless technological advances and the fastpaced life you live. That's part of the reason we live so far away from everyone and cultivate so much of what we need. It's healing to work out in the gardens, to let mother nature realize you still care. She'll let you know she still cares, too, giving you unexplainable joy and energy. And if you took the time to eat organic, your kids wouldn't be so hormonally imbalanced. Those chemicals and preservatives do funny things to a person's head and moods." "Dad," the son started. "I have a right to speak my mind," his father interrupted. "I've lived long enough and changed enough of your diapers to spot when the world is full of it. But, I guess it's no use trying to tell you straight out. You must learn it for yourself." The little girl moved where she was snuggled up to him on the swing. "This, son, this is what life is about. Everything else is meaningless," he said, pointing to his granddaughter. "Supper time!" "Two more angelic words could not be imagined, especially since we have company. She always goes whole hog when someone visits. You should come more often, because that's about the only times that she fixes desserts." With that, he stood up slowly from the swing, carrying his granddaughter to the supper table. Two generations followed after him, eager because the house and yard were awash with the fra grance of a hearty, homecooked meal. She watched them pack up and leave, her eyes still bright and young, despite the wrinkles on her face. They had already had several rounds of hugs and kisses, first inside, then at the door, then at the bottom of the steps, and then at the car. Now, there was nothing to do but wave goodbye as they backed up, eased down the driveway, and headed back to wherever they stayed for months without visiting. Busy, they called it. "How are you holding up, Mamma?" the old man asked. "All right, I suppose. It's been a wild few days. I've been cooking, feeding cows with our little miss, and doing, doing, doing with them. I'd forgotten what it was like to be energetic and young." "I know. It's contagious. All that movement and bustle for nothing." They watched their family disappear over the horizon. When they were gone, the old couple both underwent a visible transformation. With their family had disappeared a certain effervescence. 467

More Heresies from Iyan Igma He gave his wife what is often the only and best comfort possible. He held her close as she cried. She had worked hard, and there was a lot of stress in putting up four extra people for a few days. But somehow she had managed. "I don't mind all of the cooking and cleaning and exhaustion," she sobbed. "It's worth it to have them here with us. But I know they won't stay each time they come, so I outdo myself. I just hope that one day they'll realize how much their visits mean to us." "I know exactly how you feel, dear. Don't worry, they'll understand what it means to have their children return like prodigals one day when they are our age. By then, it will be too late for them to visit us more often." 468

More Heresies from Iyan Igma The First Murder This land was a barren place. There were no fruit trees or flowers. The only vines present tried to tangle their bare feet, and thorns and thistles sank into their flesh. It was far different from Eden. It was like a void. The most noticeable thing it was missing was God's presence. Adam and his wife Eve had little time to ponder this. There was a storm coming. Lightning streaked across the skies as hot as the wrath of God, and rumbles shook the earth beneath them after each bolt sank into the earth like a star cast from heaven. Adam had never seen this strange thing before, and he was terrified. But right now, he could not allow Eve to know it. It was hard to see, because the raging wind was laden with stinging dirt. They stumbled on over broken rocks and through a field. Their path was lit by brilliant streaks of white fire. Before them was a forest, and hopefully safety. They hurried to the shelter of a tree. All around them massive trees waved and shook as if they were no more than leaves. This was pitiful shelter, indeed. Suddenly, the hairs on their arms and the backs of their necks stood on end, and a bolt of lightning crashed into a nearby tree, causing it to fall over. The impact could be felt and heard over the roar and thunder of the storm. 'We shall surely die today,' Adam thought bitterly, reminiscing on God's promise1280. He took the whimpering Eve by the arm, and they fled, looking for a safer place. Behind them fire was fanning through the forest. The ground became harder and harder to manoeuvre. Their path rose upwards, causing them to feel exposed to the lightning and wind. The air behind them was a brilliant orange dancing wildly, and the smoke was thick all around. Just in front of them the lightning displayed a cave. They rushed inside, eager to be secluded from the wind and lightning. They huddled together for warmth and reassurance, watching the trees burn and the lightning scorch their new land. Alone they waited for the storm's terror to subside. "I'm sorry, Adam," Eve whispered. "Don't be." "But we've lost everything, and we'll soon die." "Maybe we'll die, but we haven't lost everything. We still have each other." Eve clutched him tightly for a moment, not daring to speak. Then, she whispered, “I thought it was the only way.” “Did you say something?” Adam asked. “He said we would be like God1281,” Eve said bitterly. "Now look at us." “Eve, what's done is done. We can't change it. But we need to try to be happy with what re mains. You were still very innocent. You didn't know who Lucifer was any more than I did. But now we know who he is, and we won't fall victim again.” Eve held him a little tighter, and for some reason that Adam couldn't explain, he very much en joyed her embrace. “Thank you,” she whispered. “For what?” 1280 Surely...promise: See Genesis 2:17 1281 He...God: see Genesis 3:45 469

More Heresies from Iyan Igma 1282 "For choosing to eat, too. For deciding to stay with me, even though you could still be living in Eden1283." "All alone, while you suffered this?" Adam remarked. "No, Eve, I had to stay with you1284." To himself he thought, 'There was no other way.' And then, for no reason the he could fathom, he had a sudden urge to press his lips to hers. That ended all of their conversations and bitter thoughts. There in the safety of the bleak cave where he could barely see her, Adam discovered something different about Eve that he'd never known in all the time she'd walked through Eden naked with him. Perhaps it was the way she felt in his arms, which was a new experience altogether. Perhaps it was some change in their bodies. Whatever it was, he felt a certain hunger burning in him just as the whole world burned outside. Adam awoke in the morning, quite surprised to still be alive. He was still full of shame for his actions in Eden, but for some reason, the sight of Eve with her tussled hair resting upon him dimmed the guilt. They had shared something beautiful and binding. He lay there, admiring her body in the dawn's light. And to think that all of those unnumbered days in Eden.... Later, when she had finally stirred, Adam went to the mouth of the cave to get a better view of their situation. Before him lay destruction. A barren land that he was ruler of. Later, he would find that such a land could have no master, but mastered the man. "So, this is to be our new home? It's so lonely," Adam lamented. He went out scavenging for food, thinking that his prospects were pretty grim. As he picked his way through downed trees and smouldering embers, making sure he did not lose the path back to the cave, he saw something in the sky. He was not all alone, after all, for there was a crow. "My friend," Adam cried out to it. "Crow!" Crow heard him, and wended his way to Adam. "It is good to see you, crow! I had thought that Eve and I were all alone in this wilderness. What on earth are you doing here?" "Friend Adam, when the Lord of the Earth fell, all of the animals were expelled from Eden as 1285 well . It was quite a tempest we were tossed into." "Yes, it was a horrible storm. Does this mean that all of our friends are here with us? That is a bit of good news. At least we are not all alone.” Adam attempted to reign in his selfish joy. “Still, I'm sorry that you all must suffer so." "Yes, we are all here, Adam. But I do not think that we will all still be friends. I have the strangest feelings. I'm sure the others feel changed, too." "I think I know what you mean," Adam said, thinking of the bestial instincts that had over 1282 Choosing: Adam did so willingly, not because he was tricked. See 1 Timothy 2:14 and 2Nephi 2:25 1283 Still...Eden: see 2 Nephi 2:22 1284 I...you: Adam was caught between two commandments. The first was to have children with Eve, also known as “multiplying” (see Genesis 1:28, Genesis 2:2324, and Moses 4:18). The second was not to eat of the fruit. When she ate the fruit, it complicated things, because he could no longer do both. Since “one is the loneliest number,” he wisely chose to multiply. He discovered early on what everyone else does: life would be so much easier if we didn't have other people and their consequences messing up things constantly. 1285 When...well: see 2 Nephi 2:22 470

More Heresies from Iyan Igma taken him the night before. "But we can still be friends. I have a favour to ask of you, crow." "Which favour, Adam?" "You fly so high above. Have you seen any place there might be food and something to drink?" "Yes, Adam, I know just the place." "Thank you, crow. It is a strange thing to have to seek out food. I will follow where you fly." The river was a long walk off, but it was worth it. There was plenty of water to drink, though he felt like he could drink it all when he first beheld it. Green reeds and plants grew by the shore. He tasted some. They were not nearly as delicious as they were in Eden, but for the moment flavour was not the highest priority. Adam hiked back to Eve in the cave. He couldn't help but admire her, the lone bit of paradise that remained with him. He told her excitedly about the river and gave her plants to eat. They went to eat and drink. Then together, they started amassing stones to form an altar, albeit crude, to in voke the name of God and plead for forgiveness. Despite their fervent prayers, it seemed like they had only received silence as an answer, which in hindsight is sometimes the only answer possible. The next few days they continued their hike back and forth from the river to the cave, wishing to bring the cave closer to the source of their food. This thought plagued Adam as he and Eve worked, trying to make basic tools and padded sandals. Then, Adam realized that there was a way to do it. He could use stones to build their own cave close to the river. Remembering that storm, it would have to be made of stone. Nothing else had held up. They laboured hard together for many days carrying stones and piling them. They scooped mud from the river to plaster between the stones. At the end of each day, they were dirty and hungry, and they had a long walk to go back to the cave. It was during the process of building this dwelling that Adam noticed something valuable. Whenever the stones were dropped roughly against each other, sparks would shoot off. He was fas cinated by them. Adam thought of the night of their exodus from Eden, of the lightning dancing ev erywhere. Now he could make small bits of lightning. The sparks would come in handy for trying to see in the cave at night. He had no idea how momentous and portentous this realization was. Several days had gone by now, and he and Eve had still not died. They saw many of their friends around the river, although most of them had scattered out across the earth. Most of the sheep stayed nearby to eat the grasses. One evening when Adam went to pick some of the grasses, he saw one of Eden's many lions. The yellowmaned beast was chewing on the grass almost contemptuously. Adam could tell that it no longer liked the weeds that they were left with. But Adam couldn't understand why he no longer felt safe near the lion. Perhaps it was the way that the lion stared across the river at the sheep. Somehow the lion seemed too big. Something had definitely changed. It was Eve who first discovered them. As more and more animals dispersed after their exile from Eden, some of the Garden's precious seeds stuck to their fur and were scattered all over the land. Where they dropped some tried to grow, sending weak shoots up amidst the weeds. With care, Adam and Eve cultivated them. It was not an easy task to keep the shoots alive, unlike in Eden. While it was a miracle that they sprung up in the first place, there was a lot of work involved to keep them barely alive. Weeds 471

More Heresies from Iyan Igma seemed to threaten them constantly. Not to mention the need to water them, since the mist alone was not enough any more. The whole process was only worsened by the constant harassment of pests like gnats, mosqui toes, and flies. Adam could remember like it were yesterday, or just last week, when he actually liked to keep them around. But that was before they began to sting him and buzz about his nose, ears, and eyes. But, Adam realized that he was no better than these pests. Every day, he would pester God, pleading for vital force, needing forgiveness, hoping to be seen and heard. It seemed like everyday he was swatted away like the insignificant thing he was. Actually, it seemed that the bugs that drew his blood were better off, having obtained what they wanted. But still, he would not give up. Finally, their dwelling by the river was finished. It was not much to look at, but its walls were sturdy. They had taken inedible leaves and thistles to form mats and layered them on top of limbs from the fallen trees to make a roof. It was warm enough at night, just the two of them. Best of all, it was close to the river, which meant that it was close to food. "Adam," Eve's voice flowed through the night like the river. "Yes, Eve?" Adam answered groggily. "I feel different." "Yes, love, I do, too." "What I mean, Adam, is that I feel different inside, like there's something more." "What do you mean, Eve?" "You know how the animals all have babies?" "Yes. Do you mean to say...?" Adam trailed off, his mind finally starting to wake up "I think we shall have a baby, too, Adam." "That's wonderful! When will it be here?" "I don't know, Adam. I don't know." Adam's joy wore off partially through his sleepless night. A baby? He was not prepared for one. He could barely take care of himself. What was he to do? How would he care for it? How would he clothe it? What were babies like? So many similar thoughts ran through his anxious mind that he did not notice the lion prowl ing around their house that night. The lion did not know why, but he was attracted to the strange pile of stones. His hunger told him that there was something delicious inside. It felt awful though, when he smelled Adam and Eve, for they were that something delicious. Some of the fruit and plants were ready before the others, mainly the less savoury ones. To Adam this was all strange business still, for in the Garden food was always instantly available. There were no waits, work, or weeds to deal with. They began to share the food with the animals, though they did keep some for themselves. They waited earnestly for the best fruit to ripen and give them one more taste of Eden's sweetness. Then, one morning the mist was not there. It did not return the next morning, either. As the mist stopped frequenting the land, the river grew lower and lower. Adam watched as his precious plants withered. He tried to fashion ways to get more water to them, digging small trenches from the river by means of rudimentary tools fashioned from sticks. It was a very slow process. Eve tried 472

More Heresies from Iyan Igma to make buckets to carry water in, but still had little success. Mud from the receding river was hardening now, and Eve was inspired by this. She made small bowls at first out of the mud and clay and let it soak in the sun. When she checked on them the next day, she was overjoyed. She ran to tell Adam, who was genuinely excited by the prospects her cre ations offered, for they could store and transport water now. He was proud of his wife. She was glowing, and there was definitely something growing within her now, a memento of their passion and suffering. Hope. That night, Adam heard something outside of their house. He was filled with dread, though he did not know why. He reached over to grab his stones. As he smashed them together, sparks flew, showing the head of the lion momentarily. Its eyes were lit yellow, and then the fire extinguished. He did not know why he should fear the lion, but every bit of him screamed of danger. He felt so vulnerable and blinded by the dark. He smashed the stones together again and again, lighting the room with intermittent sparks. The lion could sense that Adam was afraid. And it also knew that he was helpless. Something within him made him take one step inside, and then another. But then the sparks caught on the dried thistles and straw on the floor. Flames began to rush up, and the heat scared the lion. He hastily withdrew, thinking of the night when they left the Gar den and the whole world seemed to be ablaze. Adam was terrified. What had he done? His lightning had caused the floor to burn. He woke up a bewildered Eve, since he was powerless to put the flames out. They rushed outside, and watched as their scanty food stores and home were incinerated. Smoke and tears stung their eyes. Adam went and knelt at the altar, frustrated and at wits end. He thought about his plight, his pregnant wife, and tried to swallow his bitterness and pride. But it is hard to be meek in despera tion. "God, help me. The plants are withering and dying because of the drought. The most luscious fruits which caused me to labour the most are all dead. There is no water for them to survive, and the animals perish, too. Everything I have laboured on is being destroyed, like my home which is smouldering. I have no food to give to Eve and our unborn child. Please, have mercy upon us." Adam waited, not receiving an answer, as usual. He got up and with heavy feet, returned to a sobbing Eve. It did not seem like he had power over anything any more. But he could still comfort her. He wrapped his arms around her, and watched the flames die down. They would fix this tomor row. The sun still found Adam and Eve breathing. With its light Adam was able to see that the roof and floor were all gone. But the stones still stood. At least he had something to build upon. He went out to get fallen limbs to repair the roof. As he journeyed, his mind kept pondering on the fire. Surely he could turn this setback into something useful. But what was good about the fire? It was warm, it's true. But it was also wild. If only he could control it. Then, Adam thought about the stones. They had not been burned. Maybe making a fire pit would keep the flames under control. As Adam was thinking about this, he noticed holes in the ground. Animals had apparently been digging here. In fact, he was certain that there was an elephant's footprint here. At the bottom 473

More Heresies from Iyan Igma of the footprint was a thin layer of water. The animals knew something else that he didn't. There was water underground. Was it everywhere, or just in places? If he could find these places close to the plants, then he could water them better. Eve's pottery would be even more useful. Eve washed her face in the river, and then she went to check through the house. Her feet and legs were covered in ash almost as soon as she entered. Their mats and tools were all destroyed. She sifted through her pottery, finding most of it cracked. But two or three bowls still remained intact. She hesitated before separating two bowls, almost afraid to lift the top one that acted as the lid. Truly, she was eager to see if they were still there. But she feared that the fire had destroyed them, and with them their hopes for the next year. Were they burned reminders of God's punish ment? Or would they be unexpected seeds of hope? When she lifted the lid, she saw them. The seeds from every fruit and herb that they had eaten were collected there. They seemed to be fine. With luck, they would be able to plant them all where they decided next year. They could put them close to the river and make the work far easier. Adam returned bearing limbs, eager to tell Eve of his discovery. They would be able to have light at night, and warmth, since the days were starting to get colder. He was eager to tell her that God had inspired him, for surely it was an answer to his prayers, if not the one he was expecting. Maybe God had not entirely abandoned them after all. Maybe he had been watching over them the whole time. The remains of his stone house came into view, and he began to pickup his pace, driven by a subconscious yearning to be home. Then, he noticed something that chilled him. There on the far bank of the river the lion was crouched down low in the grasses. Adam followed the lion's gaze and saw the sheep, so fat and plump. He remembered the lion entering last night, and then he sprang into action, though he did not know why. He dropped all but one very solid limb and waded across the low river. His warning caused the sheep to scatter, but it was too late. The lion had already pounced. For the first time, Adam saw blood and pain. But it would not be the last time he saw it throughout the span of his many years. His idealism pained him, because he knew that he was ultimately responsible for this pain. The lion roared at Adam when he approached, trying to save what remained of the sheep. Adam had never heard anything so beastly and menacing before. He held the stick, advancing and trying not to tremble. The emaciated lion rose from his feast, and began to advance on Adam, de fending his kill. His bloody teeth and face were unsettling. For the first time since Eden, the lion felt satisfied. Adam brandished the stick, trying to calm the lion. But the lion was too famished and Adam smelled too good for him to listen to reason. Adam would be an easy kill, he reckoned. He was such a weakling, and the stick would do little good. The lion pounced, and Adam swung at it with all his might. The club connected to the lion's jaw, breaking it. But the lion was past the point of turning back. Eve had heard the commotion from within the house. She rushed outside just in time to see Adam be toppled by the lion. She was hysterical, thinking about how much she loved him. She feared that she would lose him. How was she supposed to survive without him? She and her child would die. Tears only further distorted the blur of motion where the two wrestled. 474

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Finally, Adam rose triumphant, with gashes marring his once perfect flesh. He wasn't sure how it had happened, but while he wrestled the lion he thought of Eve and his child. He would live to take care of them. His adrenaline gave him extra strength, and there the lion lay dead. He had never killed anything before, though he had truly killed everything. Still in shock, Adam turned to see Eve. As he did, he heard a voice rolling like thunder behind him. He turned, instinctively kneeling before the brilliant personage. "Adam, arise. I am a messenger from God." Adam did as he was told, astounded to receive such a visitation. "You have killed this lion, Adam, just as you have killed the Lion of Judah." "I have slain this lion. I do not deny it. But what is the Lion of Judah, and when have I killed it? I have killed nothing before today." "Today was the first murder, but you have surely killed the Lion of Judah. He is the Saviour, the one who will come one day far in the future to pay the price for everyone's sins and free all things from death, which you have brought into this world1286. Like the lion, He too shall be killed by desperate men. But do not worry, for He shall live again. "Inasmuch as you have killed this lion, all animals will fully embrace their carnal nature. There will be little peace between them or you. There will be many more deaths in the future, but this is as planned. It is good to eat meat, Adam, especially when there is little food. It is the way of this world, but not all worlds." "Take this book and read it. It tells you how you will make periodic sacrifices of the lambs on your altar. It too is a symbol of the Saviour. You will do this until you are further instructed. I will return later." "Wait," Adam cried. There was so much he wanted to ask, so much guidance he needed. The messenger paused, and Adam posed the question that had been bothering him since the beginning. "Why didn't I die the first day? Father does not lie, and yet many days have passed and I let live." "Death, Adam, comes in many forms, but it only means separation. There is a death that comes when one's body is separated from the spirit, as has happened with this lamb and lion. There is also a death when one is separated from God because of sin and transgression. When you were cast out of Eden, you suffered that death, the spiritual death. And one day in the future your body will die1287. But that will still be within a day of when you were banished." "How is that possible?" "When you were in Eden time was measured differently. One day there was like a thousand years here1288, that is, over 365,000 days now. The earth has changed and time seems longer so that you might have a longer time in which to repent and prepare yourself 1289." With that, the messenger rose through the sky shining like the sun. Adam had a hard time taking all of this in, but he was satisfied for now. He had received a 1286 Death...world: see 1 Corinthians 15:22 1287 There is a death...die: see Alma 42:7 1288 One...here: see 2 Peter 3:8 and Abraham 3:4 1289 Time...yourself: see Alma 42:45 475

More Heresies from Iyan Igma messenger from God, and hopefully there would be more to instruct him further. But just as impor tantly, there would be meat to eat now, and more skins to make clothes out of. 476

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Absolution "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned," a seemingly familiar voice told the priest from behind the masking lattice of the confessional1290. "It's been a long time." "Have you come to confess?" "Yes, though there are far too many mortal sins for me to hope to be freed from." "Why don't we talk about these sins?" Prompted the priest, thinking that he would just be hearing venial1291 sins which a parishioner had taken too seriously and was feeling exaggerated guilt for. "I don't know where to begin." "Try the beginning1292. All of your other sins will stem from there." "Well, it all started a long time ago when I was living with my father. I had a huge family." "Me, too. It was great," commented the priest who now had no children, perhaps a bit subcon sciously influenced by this. "Yeah, at times. Naturally, there are some brothers and sisters that you like less than others." "I know the feeling. I had seven brothers and sisters. How many did you have?" "I honestly lost count. It seemed like every time I turned around there was a new one." "I see. Was this where it all began? Were you just feeling neglected by your parents?" "Hardly. I had good parents. They spent plenty of time with us. They doted on us." "Then, what was the problem?" "My older brother." "Was he mean? Did he beat you up a lot?" "No. Hardly. He was just the favourite. It was pretty obvious too, since Dad would call him 'his beloved' in front of us all." "So you were a little jealous of him, then?" "You could say that. He had a lot of position, being the eldest. It never mattered how smart and able I was to do something, I was always given a pat on the head and passed over in favor of him." "That could really be problematic." "It proved to be so ultimately. We were all gathered together to discuss a family trip. I had pro posed a plan that would work and benefit everyone involved. It was far superior to the other plan. But then Father settled on the other plan which favoured my brother, probably just because he was the oldest." "So, what happened then?" "It started a family feud. About a third of us liked my plan better. It apparently wasn't enough, because we were ultimately kicked out." “Sounds pretty rough. Where'd you go then?” 1290 Confessional: the booth where confessions are made in relative privacy 1291 Venial: forgivable, not as serious 1292 The beginning: not necessarily a reference to Original Sin 477

More Heresies from Iyan Igma “Earth.” There was something hauntingly familiar about the way he said that. "Who are you?" the priest asked, feeling slightly uncomfortable. He didn't know if he should reprimand someone for playing a foolish joke or give into the little part of him that wanted the hackles on the back of his neck to rise. "I think that you know very well who I am." "Some punk kid trying to play a trick on me." "Hardly. I have many names by which people worship me. Some call me Ba'al, others call be Be lial or Beelzebub. Some would call me Lucifer, Satan, or the Devil. Others don't call me anything, since they don't realize that I exist, though they worship me by worshiping their money, cars, things, and greed." "You expect me to believe that you're Satan?" the priest asked, trying to sound incredulous. "You expect me to believe that you believe that I don't exist? You're a priest, and you've seen plenty of my power in action." "Well, then, if you're really Satan, what do you want?" "Just to talk. But you know, you really had my hopes up for a second there. I thought you were going to demand a sign. God has always had a sense of humor with those who were brazen enough to ask for a sign to prove that it was really Him speaking. That's one of the things that I have gratefully picked up from him. I had something nasty in store, but perhaps you'll ask for a sign later." The priest shuddered. This person was creepy. But surely it couldn't be him. "You said you wanted to talk? What about?" "Well, I was in the middle of a confession, Father," Satan said putting extra emphasis on the title. "Then, confess already, and be done with it." The priest would certainly be glad to be rid of him. "Well, unfortunately, this confession might take a little longer than normal." 'Great,' the Father thought to himself. 'Just like any deranged person, this guy likes to hear the sound of his own voice.' "What would you like to confess to, then?" "Well, I suppose that plotting and scheming should be high on the list. That got me in trouble in the first place. It's not everyday you have a war in heaven. But 'war in heaven' is a real misnomer by mortal standards. Just about everyone believes that there were real swords and guns and such in heaven when we fought. But there weren't. They wouldn't have done any good. “Spirits like me and the others were can't be harmed by those. The battle was waged through testimony, the power of truth1293. There were too many that believed in His plan, and so they ban ished me, being superior in numbers. But that's okay, I've got their numbers. I know who they are. Not nearly as many as had such strong testimonies of Christ before have them now. In fact, I've managed to chain almost the whole world down into darkness. That is no small feat, mind you." "How did you do it?" "Well, it helps to have control over the nations. Generally speaking, if you can get a leader to 1293 Battle...truth: see Revelations 12:7,11 478

More Heresies from Iyan Igma go astray, his supporters will follow. In the event that the leader was already astray or that the supporters wouldn't necessarily follow him happily down into the maelstrom's spiral of sin, I have improvised. The same people that 'hold to their morals' while their leaders abandon them will often support that same leader in making troubles with a neighboring country. "I love war. It hardens people's hearts. It makes them stop feeling any sense of brotherly love. They see death and carnage all day and dream about it all night. Most men stop practicing or having faith in these times, albeit a few atheists come out of the foxholes confessedly Christians. But I have a plan for that, too, so not to worry. “If we can't get them involved in a war, we create political issues. Sometimes we have the lead ers do all three. After all, most of the leaders have already gone so far down the spiral that they'll do whatever I say. The beauty of it is that they don't even realize that I'm the one influencing them." "That sounds true enough. You said you had a plan to reclaim the men who find renewed faith in war?" "Several plans, and each tailored to the individual. Sometimes, we'll help them discover alcohol or get them addicted to pain medication and drugs. Other times we'll cause them to have problems with their families, especially if they are married. A wife can be a husband's greatest weakness, and vice versa. You only need to create a hint of jealousy and suspicion, a stab of hurt, a mountain of debt, and voilà, there are enough problems to keep that relationship rocky for years. Most people never come to their senses in time to stabilize it. Why else would be divorce rates be so high? But that's exactly what I want. “If the family isn't an option, or if it isn't the most optimal one, I work on the church where he attends. Naturally, I work on all the churches. Few things are as wholesome as starting dissension in a church. That's about the only way to destroy a church, from within. After all, bills and persecu tion only strengthen it and cause it to relocate. “But with dissension you can break up a church, and you can destroy some men's faith. Even if you can't destroy a church, the real efficiency is the ability to offend people. That will keep them out of church for years, just because they are as hard hearted and bitter as I am, even though they don't want to admit it. "I'm having marvelous success with this right now, too. Some socalled ecclesiastical leaders have been swayed into thinking that the Father's standards have changed. Of course they haven't. That's why they're standards. They are set and immovable. But humans don't see it that way. If they don't like a standard, I tell them to change the standard to suit them, and they do it. Just look at what's happening with things such as homosexuality. It's splitting churches worldwide, and the exposure is doing two things: increasing the number of homosexuals and increasing the amount of hatred against homosexuals. "I love homosexuality, because it is a complete mockery of the divine creation that existed long before this earth. These people have always been male and female, and they will always be. They were meant to come here and procreate with someone of the opposite sex. Otherwise their plumbing was really a faulty design, huh? Some even go so far as to become transsexuals. I laugh each time I see an operation, thinking about what will happen when they are resurrected and find out that they're back to their same old selves again. 479

More Heresies from Iyan Igma "The homophobes are essential to the plan, too. Most of the bigots 1295 claim to be religious, 1294 but though they have no right to judge1296, they do. Their hatred taints their own souls, making their professed religion more of just a lacquered shell. The less mankind practices pure religion1297 and love1298, the more my tanglehold on them grows. I can often work up many of these homophobes into violence. “Violence begets violence which begets violence. Murder and carnage are my favorite things to see. They're better than anything Hollywood has ever produced. No one murder is quite like the next. The murderer condemns his soul, and the person murdered usually needed to repent sorely but never got around to it. Either way, I win." "But surely there's more to it than that." "Of course there is. The plan is regularly evolving. We are learning from past experience how to make the future more intolerable for the human soul seeking to do what is right. For example, each time God tries to form something that has a good, wholesome purpose to it, we sit around and try to pervert it. “Some meetings are better than others, but since technology has been booming so proficiently in the past few decades, we have been continually busy. It's amazing how much knowledge you hu mans are given, and we just have to keep finding illicit uses for it to destroy the purposes for which they were intended. "Generally speaking, we have found that tying everything in with pornography has been a proven formula. Sex sells; ask any marketing firm. What's so great about pornography is that any one can get it anywhere anonymously. They can get it for free, and they can get addicted1299. “At first we were only seeing men flock to its banners. But here recently more and more women are joining ship. Their minds get so warped that they can never be satisfied with their spouses. Kids get involved and wind up having their whole brains twisted and corrupted. They set faulty expecta tions and destroy future relationships even before they start. It's exhilarating. "Any time the family suffers, I win. That is God's eternal unit, the thing that this earth and eternity is based on1300. All these churches and governments are supposed to strengthen the family. If the family is torn apart, then I win. The anguish can normally keep or delay the parties involved from ever getting a real experience with God. That gives me more time to convert them into drones. "And then, there are other routes to take, like government. Take America, for example. With my help, wickedness has permeated the court systems. Plus, the politicians are not trying to follow the Constitution according to its true spirit. Instead, they interpret it according to how they desire to 1294 Homophobes: people who hate/fear homosexuals 1295 Bigots: people filled with hatred based on the silly grounds of differences like religion and race 1296 No right to judge: see Matthew 7:15 1297 Pure religion: see James 1:27 1298 Love: see 1 John 4:78; John 13:3435 1299 What's...addicted: my mission President, Craig L. Booth, used to speak of the 3 A's of pornography frequently: accessibility, affordability, and anonymity 1300 That...based on: see The Family: A Proclamation to the World 480

More Heresies from Iyan Igma see it, which is according to how it best suits their own interests. But that is precisely how I want them to see it. "I do the same manner of cloudingthemind trick with the scriptures. For example, earlier to day I saw a fellow reading about the unpardonable sin1301, the crime so severe that even God could not forgive it. Naturally, I am well aware of what it means to blaspheme against the Holy Spirit, since I do it all the time. But this gentleman did not. I took advantage of his lack of understanding, the same lack of understanding that precludes1302 his commission of the unpardonable sin, and whispered to him that he had committed the unforgivable sin. The shock on his face melted to fear and worry as I contin ued to whisper to him that there were plenty of times when he had felt the Spirit trying to speak to him, and he had ignored it. He began to doubt himself, and from that point on his session of study ing the scriptures was ruined. "I am sure that he will constantly be preoccupied by those thoughts for several days or weeks. I am certain of this because I and my henchmen have done this time and time again. We know the scriptures better than any living man, because we personally know the God who gave them. We de vote ourselves to finding ways to exploit the unclear passages, mistranslations, and primitive under standing of man. All the while we know that only we who have known God personally 1303 could be held liable for this infraction1304. Why, you ask? Because we won't repent. Why should we? Who is God to tell me that I am wrong?” "But you are wrong." "Part of you would like to think so, but look how well I am embraced here. I must be doing something right. Why else would everyone follow me, even if they would stringently deny doing so?" "Because you have deceived them." "You are right, of course. I have deceived humanity. In fact, my greatest success has been to convince men that I am nothing, that God is nothing, and that man is nothing. This not done through outright lies and philosophy. It is often best accomplished by distracting men with worldli ness. That is, I entice them to give in to pleasures, to embrace hedonism, greed, jealousy, pride, ha tred, overzealous love, apathy, naiveté, pharisaic devotion to religion, selfishness, power, money, fame, and glory. "That's not to say that I don't employ lies, too. But I have found that people will not believe outright lies, with the exception of juicy gossip. The best way for my lies to gain credence is to mix one or two key ones in the middle of a vast quantity of truth. I have a little false doctrine and phi losophy mixed in with religions, but only just enough to cloud men's mind and ensure that the vari ous sects all contend with each other. “The more they fight, the further from their original purpose they become. And in like fashion I 1301 Unpardonable sin: see Matthew 12:3132 1302 Precludes: prevents 1303 Known God personally: per the KingFollett Discourse “After a man has sinned against the Holy Ghost there is no repentance for him. He has got to say that the sun does not shine while he sees it. He has got to deny Jesus Christ when the heavens have been open to him.” A copy of the discourse is here: http://mldb.byu.edu/follett.htm 1304 Infraction: the unpardonable sin 481

More Heresies from Iyan Igma twist every instance of religion, corrupting spirituality into fear and doubt and concepts that people cannot understand. Of course, that's what most humans desire. If they understood doctrine, then they would be responsible for their knowledge. This way, everyone wins. "One of my infallible lies is the concept of possession. Yes, it's true, that my followers and I can possess humans. But I have systematically tricked you mortals into believing that there is some sort of official, legal consult where I ask, and permission is granted. There is no way to sell one's soul, for it is never truly owned by the mortal in the first place. “I gain control by having patience through man's gradual actions. I induce a fear into the young and feebleminded that I will take possession of them, and this fear gives me power. Fear is faith in me. In the end, humans just give away their souls without ever realizing what they are do ing. But if you ever told them this, they would never believe you. I am an expert at what I do. "The second great, infallible lie regards free will. Simply put, there is no such thing as eternal free will. A person may choose, but the consequences bind and limit the freedom and options. Once a person develops a sin or an addiction that free will is gone largely forever. All they have left is will, but they lack the power to act as they would choose. But I allow men to continue thinking that they have this socalled free will, that way they don't feel trapped. That way they don't realize how helpless they are. "One of my greatest tools is racism. I am not racist, personally. I hate everyone equally and want them all to be miserable. How could I be racist, when I know the secret that defies mortal eyes? The soul has no race. But I can't have humans knowing that. I breed a festering hatred, fear, and reproach among the different peoples, making them distrust other "races." Under the guise of racism I have enslaved the world and caused endless suffering. The suffering, fear, and lies continue to build upon themselves. "Others I enslave through complacence and such diversions. I lead them to focus on others or anything else, even lulling them to think that they are doing okay by the ten commandments, so ev erything must be fine. After all, no one wakes up and decides to kill without committing a dozen dozen minor infractions before. Thus, they will not even realize that the commandments that are the most important for them to obey are not the ten commandments, but the ones that are the most for midable for them to keep at the moment1305. “It is truly wondrous that everyone struggles with something different. Therefore, one person will look at another and justify oneself, thinking that, since they aren't falling victim to that per son's foibles, they have nothing to worry about. Surely, their own sin and struggle must be a trifling matter when compared to the struggles that so and so is having with such and such a thing. Thereby I blind them, and I win." "Maybe you win for now, but that will change." "Will it? Everything is going just as planned. My forces and I will win. You don't believe me?" "No, of course not. Otherwise I would have given in to you long ago." "Ah, but you have. You never realized it, though. Besides, you are not the only one to give in. Billions and billions have. The same people who rejected my plan in heaven accept it here. They 1305 Most important...moment: LDS Church President Harold B. Lee said, “The most important of all the commandments of God is that one that you’re having the most difficulty keeping.” Church News, 5 May 1973, p. 3 482

More Heresies from Iyan Igma adore my plan much more so than they worship God." "What exactly was your plan?" "You ought to know by now. Anyone who looks at the world can discern it. Everything that I have told you outlines it. My plan corrects the flaw of God's plan for us here on earth." "What flaw?" "God's plan allows us to come to earth and provides a Savior for our sins, it is true. But God's plan respects free will. It respects agency. This is the flaw." "How is respecting agency a flaw?" "Because it means that many would not return to heaven. They would trade a little pleasure and power on earth for what they could have realized in eternity. But my plan fixes this. There would still be a Savior, but he would pay the price for every sin and every sin's consequence, regard less of a person's acceptance or not. In a nutshell, everyone would return. Not a soul would be lost1306. Of course, it would destroy agency1307." "It's a very enticing plan. I can see why so many would follow it. But how would it destroy agency1308 exactly? Were you going to force everyone to do what was right?" "Never. But allowing people to do as they pleased while forfeiting all consequences destroys agency. Without consequences, whether positive or negative, there can be no agency. And yes, it is an enticing plan, a plan that would work. That is why it is so readily embraced here on earth where people have lost their innocence. How many religions and institutions preach a variation of it? Just know that it was not by accident." "So, if you are winning as you presume, why are you here with me? I am not all that important in the grand scheme of things." "Ah, but that is a lie. The battle for heaven is waged over every soul. Even yours. But, there is a reason that I am here. I want to know if you can at least be as good as my favourite band and have some sympathy for me1309?" Then, there was an eerie silence. The priest wondered how he should respond to this person who claimed to be Satan. Should he reprimand him for wasting his time? Should he continue to play along with this farce? "So, Father, do you forgive me?" "You know, there are some things which I cannot forgive you for, if you are who you claim to be." "I know. You could never forgive me in the first place since you're a man. Besides, who'd want to seek forgiveness from a homosexual priest?" "Homosexual? I'm not even sexual. I took a vow..." "That you never kept. I know the things that happen when the doors are closed and you think no one is watching you take advantage of the altar boys. I saw the pleasure on your face. Just 1306 Not a soul would be lost: see Moses 4:1 1307 Destroy agency: see Moses 4:3 1308 Agency: the ability to choose for oneself 1309 Sympathy for me: the Rolling Stones have a famous song entitled “Sympathy for the Devil.” 483

More Heresies from Iyan Igma think, you destroyed those children's future of belief and worship all for your sick pleasure, a taboo even your church would condemn. That's something coming from an organization that's authorized the torture and death of millions of people since its formation." The priest grew sick inside. He had never told anyone about that, nor how much he enjoyed it. "You're wondering how I would know about that. Am I here to blackmail you? Rest assured, that's not why I've come. If anything, it's to congratulate you on a job well done. But don't worry, no other humans know, yet. However, the altarboy incident was pretty public. All of us demons were watching. We see everything." "How did you know? Are you reading my mind?" Satan stepped through the lattice to look at the priest. "I know just about everything. I remember just about everyone's weaknesses. I don't forget the previous state of existence because I was never born. It helps me to know these things so that I can personally craft and tailor the implements of misery to each soul. I don't need to be able to read your mind to know what you are thinking. I can tell by your glances, the temptations I present, and past experience. Humans are a lot more transparent than they think, even if they do drink muddy water." "Muddy water?" "Well, you can't see through you like you can see me, can you?" "It's really you, isn't it?" "Yes." "But you don't seem to strike fear into my heart. You look like a regular person." "That's one of those lies that is propagated. Half of my purported appearance is to mock the sa cred to make sacrilege. No one would fear someone as normal looking as I am, nor would they recog nize me as the monster that I am considered1310. It helps me avoid the paparazzi while shopping in pubic." "You're not really here for forgiveness. So why did you confess all of these things?" "Well, among other things, to make sure that you would be held by the Seal of the Confes sional, unable to preach about my plan. I wouldn't want you warning any of my victims, now would I? And then there's the other thing." The already frightened priest felt a lump grow in his throat as if something he had eaten had gotten lodged in his esophagus and defied peristalsis. He feared to ask, but that inner, morbid cu riosity that drives us all to explore the nightmares of life egged him on. "What other thing?" "Why, the body sickness. You see, Father, I never received a body. You never know how much you want something until you cannot have it. Quite frankly, I miss being in a body a lot." The priest grabbed at his Rosary beads, while Satan began to chuckle softly. "I am the Father of lies, untouched by death and the resurrection, having condemned the world for my honour and distracted it so that it might not receive the Holy Ghost or forgiveness. I come to confuse, darken, and condemn, and I assure you of your sins despite all the all gods you would in voke." And with that, he possessed priest. He rolled his head to either side and stretched his arms 1310 Recognize...considered: see Isaiah 14:16 484

More Heresies from Iyan Igma above his head until he heard a slight crack. "Now it's time to have some real fun," he said, leaving the confessional whistling. 485

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Author's Notes When I finished The Dementia of Iyan Igma only about 1/3 of the original ideas had been in cluded. This is picking up where that book left off, and adding much more. I write in my vernacular, which means some words would apparently not fit or be used by normal people. It also means that thoughts that seem unfinished to you make perfect sense to me, plus they are loaded with more per sonal imagery than you would perceive. But then, my writings are personal first, and misinterpreted by whoever is unfortunate enough to read them second. The following notes may or may not add further significance to the poems, either by giving significant clues as to their purpose, or by reveal ing their origin Poetry: Most of the poems are written in quatrains to an 8 beat meter, either ABCB or ABAB. I must apologize if it all seems monotonous to you, but remember that I am only chronicling my thoughts and experiences. I think in that meter and rhyme scheme. Fantacism A section dealing with dreams and nature, with a somber twinge. : Mem'ry No Longer Avails: I sat down to write on the topic for “Tracking Your Influences,” and instead this came out. It reminds me at times of Robert Frost, though it is nowhere nearly as good. Tracking Your Influences : This was the second shot at the topic, and I hit it as dead on as I could get. It's about how other people's influences in our lives can still be seen if we go through the woods looking for the tracks, or droppings (if they were jerks.) The idea came to me while walking home from work and seeing cat prints in the sand that a recent rain had left. Pummelos: I was in Costco on 9 November 2008 and smelled Pummelos, which caused me to think of childhood. I shared this with the Sunbelt Writer's that month, receiving favorable reviews. Going to Pick My Switch: Picking one's own switch was quite emotional, and, in my book, was one of the cruel mind games parents play with their kids. You can't pick it too short or too skinny, but you also don't want to pick one that is too sturdy. 'Neath a Melancholy Moon: I was reflecting on blue moons and wondered if the moon was de pressed, too. The Lunatic : Lunatic comes from luna, the moon. When the moon is full, lunacy ravages the gen eral populace. On the night that I wrote this in May, the moon was large and bright, and I remem ber being drawn out to stare at it. I did manage to keep my clothes on. Lost Perseids: I had my heart set on watching the Perseid meteor shower, but missed it. Reflect ing on the experience the next morning, this poem sprang into existence. Lagrimas : I like to be alone when I cry, not so much for the manly aspect, but because it is a sa cred pastime. I have to wear masks in front of others that would prevent its authenticity. Regar Con Lagrimas : At times I have shed many a tear, and it seems a shame that they should have no purpose. If they weren't so salty, I'd be more than willing to irrigate with them. Ao Meditar: This is an impression that came to me while trying to meditate. In my perspective, it's an altered form of the field at the Watts' farm. March 19, 2008: This is what I woke up to see in my yard on this particular date—beauty, de 486

More Heresies from Iyan Igma spite the stress of the divorce process. Temperate Emotions: Written in celebration of receiving rain. Starlet Blossom: A short treatise on death, which should not be feared. Where the Dawn Perspires: I lived hidden from the world during my divorce. Every morning I would venture down a small path through the woods to get out to the road and then to work. In variably a spider web would be demolished as I passed. I'm sure the spider had much less kind words to say to me. Little Ants: While irate, lying out in the warm night air of Arizona, I heard a faint scuffling nearby. I turned my head from the clear stars the mountain view offered me, and saw ants bustling by. Like any sane human being, I began to question them about life, trying to figure out if they were like me (heaven forbid!) 'Neath a Shroud of Gray: As late fall faded the world I knew, leeching the colours like calcium is stolen from bones, I saw what would undoubtedly be the last butterfly of the season rise slowly on the turbulent chill that lifted it away from my home. Bluebells on a Hill : This poem was actually half finished last February, but was not completed for The Dementia. Morning walks spotted them, and they continually gladdened me in the mystic way that only nature can manage. The First Sweet Grass of the Season: When I was a lad, my sister Trina taught me the mys teries of sweet grass, also known as goat grass. My mom disdained its consumption, and after a while I grew old and detached from such childish delights of nature. When I finally tried it again, I wondered if I or the grass had changed? Primordial Rites: I am hopelessly addicted to floods and walking in the rain and splashing in mud puddles in the same way that others would drive around looking at senseless Christmas lights, which do not benefit nature or man. Sentimental Aquifer: As you can tell from this poem, I cannot even cry without having the strangest ponderings enter my mind. to nowhere: As I was cycling to a Sunbelt Writer's meeting in September, I noticed that off to the right in the middle of a vacant lot were steps that led to nowhere. Wornout Bags of Care : This makes several references to airport regulations, which strength ened greatly after the 9/11 attack. I wrote this for myself, telling myself that it was time to leave behind all the emotional baggage from my previous marriage and move on. Catch Me Faithfully: My life from the vantage of a bird; I had pushed myself so hard to keep up the ruses of my life before, despite my own sorrows and weakness. Then, one day a miracle oc curred—I realized that I could stop pretending and enjoy the free fall. DippersFull in Slavery: Freedom is sweet, even if you only taste it during your last few mo ments. This poem was in part inspired by my divorce. But then, I was one of those rare souls who was ecstatic to be divorced; the marriage had made me miserable for years, and I felt released of a burden and finally able to live. Freedom : a riddle written at a Sunbelt Writer's meeting during a short, timedexercise. I was told that this should be enlarged. But, like most things I write, I leave them alone (besides fixing basic typo's and the grammatical errors that I cannot live with.) 487

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Blue : a limerick written during the November Sunbelt Writer's meeting; it made sense to me, but then, I still recall asking my mom this question, and many others, when I was a child. These ques tions introduced me to the world's most important repositories of knowledge—public libraries— which I have loved ever since. Tiny Hands: In June 2008 I had a dream of walking along, swinging my as of yet unborn and unconceived daughter, aged two. It was a very sentimental dream, from which I awoke crying, wishing that I could return to enjoy a better reality. Sand Art With My Son: This poem is fictional, since I do not have a son. But, in the poem, we're writing our names in the sand using the first implement man was given to leave his mark with —urine. I recall similar experiences when I was a child. My Nephew on Mother's Day: On Mother's Day 2008 I was invited to dinner and wound up playing with a 2year old who thought that I was his uncle. Why else would I be there? Memories of You: Ling asked me to write a short poem for her friends on New Year's. This was the result, which occasioned a handful of impressed responses, notably from Ling. My Next Planet: A bit of the bitterness God invariably feels when He looks upon this mixedup collection of thoughtless humans shows through. Next time He makes a beautiful planet full of life, He'll be sure not to let us destroy it. Okay, so that's false doctrine, since we're an integral part of its beauty, but it still frustrates Him. Nepotism: Nepotism means showing favoritism, and this section certainly does, since it is all about ME me. Snowy Temples: Many people think that because I am young, I know nothing. My Hair: This was a riddle written at a Sunbelt Writers' meeting Life's Unbathed Simplicity: This is actually not a poem endorsing bad hygiene. Instead, it's a reflection of how I was truly raised centuries ago. It might explain why it's so hard for me to fit in, despite the fact that I bathe. . . occasionally. A Fit Gift: Written for the birthday of my mother, which, coincidentally, was the day my divorce was finally finalized. It was, needless to say, quite a joyful occasion. Mother's Voice: I often take for granted my mother and the gift of hearing her voice, since I am indisposed to talking on the phone (which is something I “got honest,” since she despises it, too.) One day, I'm going to regret not speaking to her more often. Honor in Ages Past : I experienced a crisis and was reprimanding myself for betraying the hon our that I should have guarded well. Too Godawful Bad: My sisters would beg the differ. However, they would agree that a little more strapping would improve the general poor conduct and lack of respect that plagues American kids. Reprimand Sarcastic Pride: Mrs. Brinkley warned me about my sarcasm, but I never listened. Mindless Work: I think most when I don't have to use my mind. Giroscopio: My mind never stops moving. A.S.: Long after I had left school, I learned about Asperger's, which would honestly explain most of my childhood. I would get a professional testing, but I don't need yet another label. Besides, I've 488

More Heresies from Iyan Igma largely learned to cope with it by now. De Facto Despot: Too many times I have had leadership thrust upon me, mainly because there was no one else to do it. Sobre la Amistad: I often think about how lightly I used the word friend to describe people who never have been and never will. Los Estandartes Tuyos: Having lost many friends in the past year, I learned that far too many people only tolerate friendship if you can live up to their standards. If you show any weaknesses or disappoint them in any way, then farewell. They never were friends. Of Use: Few people take the time to associate with me, until their computers die. Then, they beat down my door and hunt me down. Another Week: I wrote this at a meeting with the Sunbelt Writer's. I hate writing in forced set tings. We had 8 minutes to use internal repetition in a new poem. I Defy Buddha: (It's a good thing he's dead and a pacifist, huh?) This refers to Buddhist maxims that teach that one should cease having desires in order to attain happiness. I'll attain happiness, but I'm not going to accept mediocrity in the process. Ask me how I fare with this twenty years from now. Vingtsix: Another year older, I had a remarkably different attitude than when I wrote “A Quarter Century .: I feel mature, and I am finally on the upswing, ready to conquer myself one foible at a time. Rare Perfection Among Men: This is not a clever disguise. I am blatantly admitting to being perfect, besides thousands of errors. SWMLFTL: (Single White Male Looking For True Lover) It is frustrating to have many people try to be your mother. Even though they care about me, I need to find out some things for myself. I hate being smothered. Egonym: This explains the origin of my pseudonym. A Flummoxed Compass: For a large portion of 2008, I was like a compass that could not locate North. I was spinning around and around, unable to find adequate direction for my life. Gran Fracaso: Most likely, the reference to failure is not politically correct or socially acceptable, although Coby can appreciate it. But then, neither is suicide, right? Lamaphite: if you were to cross the loyal, obedient Nephi (from the Book of Mormon) with the murmuring, murderous Laman, his oldest brother, then you would have me. Me Volviste Puercoespinos: It translates into, “You turned me into a porcupine.” Now, all of your barbs disturb my subconscious, eroding my esteem, making me lose sleep. I guess I just need to find something that I can inject all of these quills into and thereby heal my troubled emotional state. Oh, look, a book! Ah, all better. Small Jaunts: My sisters and I used to bruise each other's arms while riding in the car, should we see a VW Bug. While I was walking one day, I was thinking about this, as well as how much the ability to drive changes the perspective on how long it takes to arrive at your destination. strangers as strange as me: sadly true. it is based off of my reflections on 13 november 2008. let's just say that i've had neighbours who don't deserve to have the kids who don't deserve to be mistreated. but that seems to be how it always works. 489

More Heresies from Iyan Igma I watched as you died: Christmas time invariably brings stockingsfull of sad memories, not the least of which was the death of my stepfather on that day. I thought of when he was diagnosed with cancer, and his downhill battle. He died spiritually, it seemed to me, months before his body de cided to free him from anguish. Realism A section that is not afraid to tell the bitter truth of how the world is, at least as I per : ceive it. The First to Go: As I walked one afternoon, I wryly thought about how gullible I was through out my life, and how Innocence at first seemed like a friend. I never realized it was just another Loki, someone who set me up for failure and heartache. When I thought back on all the friends who had abandoned me, Innocence, the dearly regarded and much missed, was the first to go. Puesto del Sol del Paraíso : My greatest inner conflict is between Idealism and Realism. A friend points to this in my birth chart with my SunMoon Opposition. This eclectic poem was in spired by listening to “Waterloo Sunset,” and wishing I could so easily be in paradise. The Kinks are one of my favourite bands. Enmy: The worst crisis of faith did not come from ceasing to believe in any strict dogma or creed or God, but rather in my own self. This World of Mimes : The world is full of people who have nothing to say, but try so hard to constantly grab my attention and tell me all of their trifling little nothings, hoping that I'll become just like them. Modestia: It's hard to respect a person who shows no respect for their own self. Codependent Happiness: I realized that I needed to stop being servile to others in order to find happiness, instead needing to realize that somehow or another I could find happiness within myself. Drenched, Hungry, Unemployed: All bits of this apply to the foolish and naïve little me of the past, even the giving away my job to a “friend” in need, who later stabbed me in the back. Like Camping, But Colder: A few times while I wrote this book, this was a reality. To Mitigate the Rub: The memory of a friends' disappointed eyes came to me while I was walk ing, and the train of thought that followed ensued. You'll Be a Man : The most bitter doctrine to believe, I repeated this to myself several times one afternoon when it seemed like everything was going wrong. I refused to give in to other people's de sires to make me break down and cry. Honor Graduate : In a nutshell, the American education system didn't even get a hand basket. It just went straight to hell. Kids are continually dumbed down and not expected to be challenged. The more intelligent you are, the more pressure there is to force you to conform to mediocrity, that way you won't make the others feel bad. Gifted children are horribly underserved. Life's JackintheBox: Every time I read the line “And the lid explodes like suicide bomber chickens,” I explode in laughter. I should write a kids book about suicide bomber chickens. It could be published in Iraq or Palestine. In all seriousness, life is full of many surprises, which shouldn't surprise us if we understand that they are all preprogrammed. Perseverance: The late Lincoln Barlow taught the importance of persevering until one “is safely 490

More Heresies from Iyan Igma dead.” Intelligence's Curse: I used to think being intelligent was a curse. I hated being unable to really connect with those of my own age, making closer friends with teachers than with my peers. But I got over it; there are other people out there that I can connect with. Another One of Those Mornings: I have too many of them. Paltry Reflections: If you've ever gone window shopping when you're broke and hungry, you'll understand this. If not, leave your money at home and fast overnight before going to your favourite mall. Lines 17 and 18 didn't originally exist. Altruism Died with Christ: I've always believed in altruism, but recently I started to question my motives. In Secrecy: There is nothing closer to the truth than this, although you might think I'm paranoid. I've noticed how others, especially in small towns, always seem to know what I've been up to. Despotism: This is the section where I have tried to condense my political and religious attacks, which I am trying to get away from. I wrote all these despite myself because of bitterness. Lhasa : written in protest to all of the censoring and violence in Tibet in preparation for the 2008 Beijing Olympics. There's a Republican Outside My Window: By this you can tell that I'm not a Republican. I initially intended to release this as a kids book before the 2008 Elections, but time escaped me. TheoTyranny: Let's just say that many religions try to govern the people, and it's not always a good thing. Loony Duped Simpletons: Written while I was irate over several issues such as California's Proposition 8 and a certain allegiance to the Republican Party strictly because of religious leaders, and not because of any real merits of its own. Dear John : I did not forsake God, just a religious organization that tries to use Him to justify ev erything perverse that they do. Progress, They Call It: Don't you just love progress? It may seem like I'm a tree hugger, but rest assured, I have no chains. I just lament the fact that where nature isn't shrinking, it's being poi soned. A.B.S.: Taken from the Chinese acronym ABC for Americanborn Chinese, who are largely scorned for losing their language and heritage. However, I've experienced this with many other cultures here, and have always been pained and frustrated by the younger generation that never grasps exactly what they are forsaking. Idealism : A positive section focusing on the higher auspices of life, forgiveness, Enlightenment, and love. Let Wasted Years Be: Regrets, well, I've had many. But it's time to get over that and make meaning from the pieces of what has been, otherwise all that suffering was in vain. The State Within: I have tried with general success to distance myself from politics, since its discussion brings out the worst in me. This seemed almost like an impossible, Herculean feat in late 2008. Integrity: My glasses broke in twain, and as I looked at the pieces, I realized that they were sym 491

More Heresies from Iyan Igma bolic of my ego. Layers of SelfMate Importance: We place so much esteem on our social circles, never realiz ing that they are meaningless. SoulSightsee: I thought about all the labels I give others and myself, thinking of the impact on myself and others. Labels should never be given or believed. They trick us into limiting our potential. Belief: I realized that after having long espoused that there was only one correct belief and if ev eryone else was not following that, they were in err, that I was the one in err. I realized that it is not the correctness of the belief that matters, but having belief that counts. People need to believe, not so much as to unleash the power of God above, but to tap into the power of the divine within that they would otherwise overlook because they blind their minds as to their true eternal identity. That I AM: All of my frustrations and disappointments are meaningless, existing only because I allow myself to keep thinking that I am this flesh, and not someone who's always been. Life's Labours Ills : Attitude is the key to any task, even work. Normalcy's Untrue: It is. Just ask any crazy like me. Commonality: There's no such thing as a common man, for what we see as common men are Gods in a state of confusion. Deathbed Confession: What matters when we die is not the confession, but who we've become. Salutary Anarchy: Some rules are inane. Adherence to them, especially as it regards the propriety of love, is even crazier. Meaningless Sex: Having received many meaningless offers, I always ask myself why would I even bother. Love.c: I'm not sure if the code will compile correctly. You might have to tweak the source to fit your own needs. A love poem for computer geeks, loosely written in C and distributed as FOSAS (Free, Open Source Abstract Software.) Optimism a largely tongueincheek, lighter section Wintry Days In Hell:A lighthearted poem that always makes me smile, and even brought a smile to some of the Sunbelt Writers. Each Crazy Woman: I don't think that every woman is crazy, though I have met my fair share. But it would explain why God needed to rest on the seventh day. The Amputee: My funny bone still hurts, but my romantic bones have been surgically removed. I was once told, in jest, that I don't have a romantic bone in my body. Exus: I thought about the snare of “love” I'd once fallen into while being the brainwashed victim of idealism, and said, “Some people need to come with warnings to tell us how crazy they are.” While You May: Here I do not refer to rosebuds but raindrops. Going Off to Dream : This was originally going to be a note that the voice in the poem was go ing to leave to the roommate. I have mixed emotions about this poem. Who You Are: A song that came to me when my neighbour turned down his music one afternoon. Worth Your Weight in Chocolate: Originally entitled “U=(93 lbs chocolate^2)ºº^3.” It 492

More Heresies from Iyan Igma seemed like too much of a mouthful. My Lover's API: APIs allow applications to accomplish specific functions; I pondered one day which API calls were necessary to make a woman fall madly (or gladly) in love with you Weight Loss: This poem sarcastically encourages starvation as the oldest and best weight loss diet. Ironically, I later grew so depressed that I forgot to eat more than once every other day or so for a while. My depression wasn't initially linked to this poem, nor was my eventual twentysix inch waist. It was disgusting. My Comfy Placenta: Long baths reminds me of the placenta, though I'm glad I have a little more room to stretch out now. On Demolishing Alarms: Some mornings it's a wonder that mine survives. Let it be known, though, that I have defaced it. That is, I once knocked it off the dresser and the face was demol ished. Unfortunately, the alarm still works. The Bairn's Vast Energy: I have long held that the sheer physics of trying to stuff a full grown spirit into a childsized body would result in extreme energy, which would abate as the child grew. Hermits: Being a hermit, I can tell you that my best friends are the people that I never speak to. They understand me. ¡Aguas! : The traditional Mexican exclamation meaning “Watch Out!” I was teaching someone how to assemble computers and warned them to take care with the rough edges. This poem resulted. Lunar Cycle Love : If you dig a hole when the moon is full, then you'll have plenty of dirt left over to fill it with. One full moon this truth popped into my head, and I wondered if it applied to love, too. More Worthless Tin: The bookmobile went to visit an elderly patron, and we had a scare. No one answered the door or phone, etc. We began to fear the worst. They turned out to be indisposed but fine. However, the experience resulted in this little atrocity. Pollinated Cars: As I walked along in April, I noticed that everything was yellow. Pollen. Aller gies. Achoo! Poem. Incest's Stigma: Someone must have mentioned Alabama, because a thought came to mind about how brothers and sisters who were married to each other couldn't go running back home if the mar riage failed. After all, it would make the parents choose sides. Esquilo Na Vida Pasada: Thinking back on some of the people I've dated, I thought to myself that I must have been a squirrel in a past life, because I have a soft spot for nuts (food) and nuts (crazies.) Neelie Kroes: Neelie Kroes is an EU rep that slammed Microsoft for noncompliance. It's nice to see someone stand up to them. This was written half in jest though—I don't love her, and I don't think that she loves me. But you never know... Juvenile Lobotomy: I was at church in March 2008 watching a little kid almost lose his hand up his nose. The way he seemed to enjoy mining in his nostrils inspired me. You have to worry about people who get inspired by watching others pick their noses. Like the Dickens: A limerick written at the November Sunbelt Writers' meeting. My sister and I once zipped a cat into clothes... 493

More Heresies from Iyan Igma If Her Dentures Were New: Another limerick written at the November Sunbelt Writers' meet ing. My Granny never did bite my nose, nor did she have dentures. A Horse: Someone mentioned to me the vulgar expression, “You can lead a horse to water,” to which I silently replied with this quatrain. In keeping with Polonius's adage that “brevity is the soul of wit,” I have opted not to expand it any further. Aaron Is So Stupid: I have several friends and acquaintances named Aaron. In May, one asked me to write a poem by this title. That is why it features a name, and most do not. To Quote Bobby : My friend Bobby Watts used to always say, “It's a poor man that can only spell or say a word one way.” Poor here does not mean impoverished; it means, a person who's miss ing out on life's richest pleasures by not really knowing how to spell or say words, but doing so as he felt at the moment. It's liberating. The Rapist: This is about therapy, and is a bit tongue in cheek. Brute Hedonism: If you disregard the milking and slaughter, the life of a cow would be ideal, idyll, and idle. How enviable! Every Soothing Iniquity: While it may be a bit tongueincheek, there is some truth to it. Christians, by and large, are very condescending, critical, and sanctimonious. Your Sweetest Taboo: Well, if everyone is going to blame you for something, you might as well indulge, right? Flings Before: A snide commentary on teenage puppy love Romanticism: In effect, yet another love cycle. How depressing. Garden Variety Guy: I'm no different from anyone else, right? Burning Beauty Across the Sky: Love is like a meteor—fickle, brilliant, beautiful, and gone in an instant. Then, all you have is the memory of a beautiful thing evidenced only by dull smoke. The Sweetest Salve: The truest test of love is not whether it can be requited and fulfilled, but whether it can last unconditionally, wishing the best for the object of adoration. El Zancudo y Tú: An old poem I'd actually completed in the Dementia era, but somehow forgot to include. It is more likely that I just didn't like it, since I still don't. Helenic: How calm the day would certainly be When I would erupt vehemently, Not holding back a bit of ire, Smothering you in molten fire. But until then you will never know I'm getting ready to blow. Paradise Riven: Ah, to be young and in love. What naïve joy and eventual heartbreak. You think that you can live off of love, only to find out that it is laced with poison. Scorching Epiphanies: Marriage is the most important decision that can ever be made, because it will bring eternal happiness or profound and lasting pain which will seep into every other aspect of your life, until all you know is corrosion and suffering. Paedomisia: The opposite of paedophilia, that is, hating kids. I don't ever care to date another silly little girl again in my life. Materialism in Perspective: “Things” are short for nothing, so what does losing all the noth 494

More Heresies from Iyan Igma ings you have really matter when you never had anything that really mattered? Love's Martyr: One of the classic needs that all humans feel is the need to be loved, which can re sult in acts of desperation. Since Your Decision Was Resolute: Even though one is betrayed, one should never wish any thing ill on another. Gorgon Tears: Gorgons normally petrify the onlooker, but in this special case, they turn their hearts to stone. Someone used to use tears to manipulate me. At least until my heart was turned to stone. Poetic Justice: Okay, so maybe it is a little unfeeling and harsh. Make Canis Majoris Dim: I shall learn to shine again, despite all the damage that I suffered. Just you wait. Unfettered and Unbound: Maturity is beauty, Prettiness is vanity, And true love is liberty. better to suicide: those who try to hide and fear honesty are not prepared to receive love and will spend their lives as shadows fleeing the light because they never learned to trust Not My Nothingness: What can I really offer a woman, I wonder? Nothing. For that's all I am. But still, maybe someone would not hold that against me.... Muito Obrigado: Even if nothing comes of the friendship more than a selfesteem boost for you, it was worth it. Grieve Not the Harvests Past: Move on. Forget the past. Live. Exquisite happiness awaits the one who can learn from errors. Bathsheba: Bathsheba liked to bathe on her rooftop. David liked to watch. She was forbidden, but that's okay, right? By Your Pleasured Smile: When two people are intimate, inhibitions fade away like an early morning mist warmed by the sun, and they are able to truly express their secret thoughts. Wenugichasum: Not just a clever Native American name. naked always: i was once invited to live in a nudist colony, but that has nothing to do with this poem. somehow people are more tender and sincere when they are naked, as if exposing the body also exposes the heart and its treasures of love Feeble With Strong Rapport: Friendship is more important than vanity, things, strength, and sex. It should be the basis of a marriage. Having once married someone I had nothing in common with and with whom it was impossible to communicate, I know. El Vicio de Amor: I don't have many vices, besides my pride and stubbornness. But if you ask anyone else, they would disagree, using a certain wonderful woman as an example. Just Ordinary Sers: Why is it that two ordinary people cannot go about their own business without every mother and their body getting upset? And For Dulcinea: Too many people have tried to be my Sancho Panza, wanting to save me from my love, nevertheless, they never realized that they were the ones seeing giants where there were only windmills. When my mind's made up, I do not waver. Blinks: Eternity is such a short time, and all that we know on earth is gone already. I was consid 495

More Heresies from Iyan Igma ering a move, which I will have to make, that would separate me from my sweetheart for some time. Our Paths Tend to Diverge : When I would discuss all of my possible futures, and all of the dreams I wished to accomplish, I was amazed by the overarching paradox. I wanted to stay with mi Extranjera, yet every path I would have to take in order to be able to have a real life with her re quired us to part for a blink of an eye. To Coax Me from the Bush: This is actually a sequel to “Will You Clip My Wings Also?” from Dementia. It just seemed like an appropriate place to put it. When No One Can See: Why should love be a secret? What Easy Lies: Because of the emotions that intercourse creates, it is easy to be taken advan tage of by the appropriate words that one longs to hear when they are so vulnerable. Ficklety : Women. Inconstant. Emotional. Indecisive. Do you love me or not? Make up your mind, already! A Meaningless Butterfly Atop : I wrote this when I spent several weeks being passed over be cause of a butterfly garden. Dead Joy: I have never been involved in an abortion, although some might wish my mom had con sidered it with me. Just a poem. I had been reading a study on the rate of abortion, and I pondered how I would feel. By the way, I am also prochoice. Self Mutilation: I bring about my own grief when I speak my mind, since my tongue can make sandpaper seem like Charmin. The Lack Thereof: I once thought I had lost someone dear to me because of my harsh words. Useless Reciprocation: I have found that I would much rather love, than be loved. Being loved just complicates everything. As Nebuchadnezzar: Donkeys don't have to worry about the complications of human love. They're lucky. A Cardiologist: Next time, I shall ask to see the degree before I let someone open up my chest and take out my heart. Of the Passion That Once Was Ours : I was once asked to remain friends even should a rela tionship end. I couldn't fathom how that would be possible, and this is a succinct expression of that. Having Whet Curiosity: Sometimes we hold on to impossible dreams for far too long, causing ourselves even greater pain. From Pearl to Powder: A reference to a story I wrote about an Oyster giving its pearl (i.e. love) away. One Precious Songbird: I have known a couple of females who deliberately tried to make me jealous, not realizing that I'm not a jealous type. I wonder why such stupid games are played. Pity Other Men: Why are other men pitied? Because they will invariably suffer the same games and ficklety. In Intimate Moments: When people are most vulnerable and exposed the most sincere or most manipulative words can be spoken, thus inflicting lasting emotional pain and complicating separa tion. 496

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Never Told: A child thinks that the worst betrayal it can receive is learning that parent's aren't completely honest. An adult realizes that the worst betrayal comes from inconstant lovers. As the Thornbirds: A reference to McCullogh's The Thornbirds, which took its title from an Irish poem about birds that sing their sweetest songs as they impale themselves upon the thorns. It's re ally sweet and emotional, but the birds should pay more attention to where they are flying. I read The Thornbirds in sixth grade. Obelisk at Babel: Love can bring two people together in perfect harmony, but if it disappears, they no longer understand each other. Five and Twenty : This contains numerous references to A. E. Housman's “Two and Twenty,” one of his best and truest works. This Skeleton Who Wears My Clothes: You always wondered why I felt so bony... Eviscerated Lobes: I know so many people who have had to choose between a lover and either family, friends, God, or job. I had to make those kinds of choices before, too. When I was writing this, I honestly felt that I had lost everything. But then, the last eight years of my life were only completely wasted and meaningless... Lo Merezco: I deserve it. Maldita Juventud: I am often scorned for being young, especially since people think I'm a decade younger than what I am based on my appearance. Natural Causes: Suicide resulting from a string of bad relationships is natural, right? Lake of Love's Brimstone: Love makes hell seem pleasant. Dysphemism: Means that a really negative expression is used to describe something that's not all that bad. In this case, the really cruel and evil word is “love.” On Loves True Essence: I do not feel this way, although I may be bitter at times. This Rag: The story of a homeless man whose only joy comes from a little piece of cloth that once belonged to his wife. The Lady of Cofitachequi: A story told through the eyes of Hernán de Soto, who explored the South and was the first European to discover the Mississippi. In this version of history, he does not die and is not buried in the Mississippi River. Instead, he steals away to sate his troubled heart and mind, which are pining away after the Lady of Cofitachequi, whom he had once kidnapped. The Relic of His Love: The relic in question would be his scent on a shirt that she had kept while he was away. Sailor Boy: Her love was a sailor who had died at sea. The Ring's Vow: A maiden who was engaged laments the emotional bonds she made with her young man who has died. Apple Scented Death: The story of a man who is visited by a succubus, and eventually suc cumbs to death. Across the Thatch: Some things, like letting someone steal your heart, are far more romantic when they're just expressions. A Metallic Girl: I used to kid someone that they were a mob hitwoman in a prior life; this poem just kind of resulted from it. Vibrant Life: Yet another story of a heartless wench. 497

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Yonder Hollows of Eden: Before Cain there was a woman's tendency to play with a man's heart. When I Loved You: I reflected on the transformative power of love one winter afternoon, re calling a certain one who I gave love to before. She changed entirely, to the point where she no longer needed my love. Others finally saw the jewel they'd long been oblivious to. The One with Whom I Now Lay: An austere poem written after thinking about a chance meeting as is therein described. Their Anniversary: This is not written about anyone in particular, though it probably touches a resonant chord with others. Pessimism An assortment of sordid and depressing stories, which is, needless to say, my favourite : part of this collection. Ao Morrer: I fear that this will be the final state of my affairs when I pass on, a million and one projects left undone. Transient Gleam: Glaucoma and cataracts steal the joy from later years. I wrote this during a tennis lesson while I was watching the sunset, finding the sun blocked by clouds, as had happened at the beach the last time I'd gone. Omens with a Simple Touch: There is a superstition not to let vines, or some say, tree limbs, touch a house or someone will die. This is based off of that superstition, which, oddly enough, ful filled itself when I was eleven and my stepfather perished. On the Bed Where We Loved : I awoke from a dream and wrote this, crying like a little baby the whole while. I dreamt that I was old, and my lover and companion of many years had passed on. Lonely Tree: Everything has a message, and the words we tell others may come back to haunt us one day. A Miracle Too Soon Gone: A child who passed away young becomes the guardian angel to a family that never chooses to heal. I Walk These Lonely Hills: A ghost seeks for the lover he had hoped to elope with, not realiz ing that he sees her once a year mourning his remains. He'd died by stepping off a cliff during a tem pest on they night they were to elope. It just goes to prove that, no matter how you may feel, love won't make you walk on air. Sop of Saving Bread: A mother gives the last sop of bread away to her child, knowing that she will die. She gives her child instructions to cannibalize her, thereby having sustenance to live on. At Yuletide: Having received the Christmas spirit, I wrote this. It is the story of a girl, who like many, is depressed during Christmas time. Instead of having meaningless sex, she kills herself. Merry Philia: My little sister has a fear of Santa. She told me that I should write her a story about Santa being a paedophile. I did, but she later told me that it was scary. Licit to Live: This is based around two of the great truths that I have known for some time: 1. The only monsters are men. 2. The masses are afraid of the ones who really think. True Thanksgiving: With Thanksgiving approaching, my heart was full of gratitude for all of the many abuses that we as Americans have been blessed to do. 498

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Lover's Leap : I love the action and tone of this poem, albeit not the eventual outcome. They for got their parachutes, it seems. At any rate, I came up with this poem because of a dream I had one morning when I woke up late for work. I had to write it down, making myself later still. Holocaustic Future: An extremely dark, satirical example of what will happen when we have a laissezfaire government. If we're not careful, history has a way of repeating itself. I think that I was somewhat inspired by Moshe the Beade's tale in Elie Wiesel's Night. The Last of the Free Roam Tigers : This is from a dream I had in September 2008, which tells a bleak vision of the future. The Prodigal Sin: God is killed, knowing it would happen, but gladly welcomes his prodigal back into the fold, embracing him one last time. Vigilante Justice: Christ has taken matters into his own hands. Lack of Perception: This poem did not turn out as well as I had hoped when I sat down to write it. That's the nature of the game. It is a hyperbole of the way that some people cannot fathom what I really mean and feel about them, despite my outward kindness. Alimentar Os Tuburőes: A mother feeds the remains of her abusive husband to the sharks in front of her small child. It's a very endearing, sweet poem. I'm sure the child will be forever scarred. Safely Sepultado: A man who goes to the feast and tells them not to worry about why his wife didn't join them, while explaining the rest under his breath. The Coopersmith: It makes you wonder how many other corpsefilled barrels the Coopersmith has laying around his establishment. This poem owes its existence to a phrase that came to me while writing another poem—“The coopersmith sat glib and free.” To Look Past Your Psychopathy: One psychopath is disappointed with her serial killer lover because he's just not psychotic enough for her. So, she kills and eats him. Midnight Reprieve: Written in honor of all the criminals who normally get a reprieve during a President's last days in office. Guilt : This story would be set in the late 1800s or turn of the 20th Century in America. It was a dream I had, wherein I grew to dislike my old boss when he told me right before the switch was flipped that he was the one responsible for all that I had been framed with. Now you see why I don't need to watch TV; I have enough drama in my dreams to entertain me. Distant Fields of Heather: A tragic tale based on a dream I had of Englishmen burning my home to the ground with my wife and child within it. I wasn't exactly thrilled about that in the dream. Still Space Left for Me: As I walked along the town square as part of a my normal aimless ramblings, I noticed the monument to the fallen and the flame. This poem resulted. Enlisted Suicide: Something I once considered when completely distraught in May. beautiful demise: The lyrics to a dirge that popped into my head one night as I was taking a nice hot bath. It ruined the bath, because I had to get up and record it. Hands That Bless and Do No Harm : There is a lady who comes to the library quite often. One day she remarked that I have lovely hands, “Hands that bless and do no harm.” Or do they? Croatoan: I've always had a fascination with the lost Roanoke colony, and this was from a dream 499

More Heresies from Iyan Igma that I had. Mongol Steppes: You would not believe how hard it is to research Mongol beliefs. The informa tion is very limited. This poem came into being because a single phrase popped into my head as I was shelving books in the library one morning, “across these Mongol steppes.” With the phrase came the impression of a demon chasing a warrior endlessly. However, I was uncertain as to whether the Mongolians believed in demons. I found out that they do, however description of their various demons is largely nonextant, see below: http://www.iras.ucalgary.ca/~volk/sylvia/Magic.htm http://www.facemusic.ch/bi_bid/historyoftengerism.html http://members.tripod.com/Mongolian_Page/shaman.txt Her Voice: This is the longest poem I have written. It is a transcription of a dream that I had. Despite the popular fears concerning dying in dreams, I often do. I woke up finding my flesh intact with a strange tale to spin. La Extranjera: I learned from Haemophilia to go ahead and separate a poem cycle from the rest of the poems, otherwise people read them individually without getting the bigger picture. This cycle is meant to be the yin to Haemophilia's yang. It is meant to be happy, since I have been told I never write anything happy and romantic. This is the story of an ESOL teacher and a Chinese immigrant named Jing, though she calls herself Jane in order to fit in in America, who fall into an unlikely love, with several instances actually inspired by my relationship with a certain angel. Fresh Obsidian: The meeting of the two future lovers. He is stricken with her, just as I once in explicably was. The Heart is Clairvoyant: I sat in an emergency room waiting for a rabies vaccine (it was not a full moon; a dog bit me while I was cycling,) when I wrote this. I don't understand love at first sight, which is far different from lust a first sight. I never believed in it before. But then I was never given a reason to. Subtle Missteps: Having dealt with many different people of various cultures, I have come to re alize that foreigners understand my dry humour even less than Englishspeakers. Intricate Porcelain: I wrestled with my extraplatonic feelings for my dear friend, since she is “so intriguing and thoughtful, playful, pure and sweet. I love [her] more the more we meet.” Em Sonhos : I was addicted to receiving emails, I must admit. I would await them anxiously. My Favorite Author: Simple words can have great elegance. Ostra: I decided to touch on an unincluded fable about an Oyster that I once shared. You can get the gist of the story from this. Sensual Bites: Touch is perhaps the most dangerous sense, able to cause even the most innocuous actions to be charged with emotion. On Chopsticks: One of my first dates with Ling she tried to get me to eat with chopsticks. I thought I did a decent job, but she covered her mouth and covertly smiled out a laugh. I suppose that her insistence that I use chopsticks ever since is so that she can smile. Nothing is so Aesthetic: I have yet to have this art lesson. 500

More Heresies from Iyan Igma With New Luster : The first time we danced, there was a definite connection. We spent hours dancing together, unwilling to separate. Risonanza: She honestly likes it when I sing to her. Sunset Frames: We have gone sailing together. Eliciting Electricity: Mmmmm. Mint. Rechristened: We've yet to go to Cloudland Canyon together, but it is on the todo list. That fu ture trip was the inspiration. Fields of Spring : Having taken many walks together, it seemed natural to continue the moun tain trip with a walk. Obeisance: It seems like just about everything is made in China. Pela Luna: Watching the stars is very romantic. Supernoval Light: I thought of how mere stars would not be apt enough to describe how I felt, for they are dim and fade away when night has passed, but a supernova—big, wild, magnificent— that is more along the lines of how love feels. Corozonal Jardin: She does grow a garden; it's organic. False Decency: There is a certain bit of false propriety prohibiting dating and love when two people are of differing races or ages. It is foolishness. The Winter Beguiled : April days so full of vitality Are everything that love should ever be. Soy Tu Girasol: It translates to “I am your sunflower,” meaning I watch you like the sunflower stays focused on the sun all day long. Sweet Improbabilities: Sometimes love seems impossible, but still we cannot help but continue to hope. Love's Germination : This answers the question, how can you say you love me, when we have known each other for such little time? Perennials: We were just waiting to experience the hybrid beauty that love could bring us. Probably Paraphilia: Our relationship was taboo in South Georgia, most likely because it was genuine. From Silence and In Between: There's much you can learn from a woman by the things she does not say Further: There is really no such thing as falling in love. Instead, one pushes on in love, for there's a lot of leg work involved in getting to know who a person really is, since they generally are trying to discover that, too, but cannot until they are loved. As soon as they find out who they are, they change, and you have to go through the process again. But it is worth it. Anjo: I often heard that phrase, “What kind of person you think I am?” Eventually, I had to reply how I felt. Living Feicui : Imperial Green Jade has a certain importance to the Chinese, but not as much im portance as she does to me. Pièce de Résistance: She is a masterpiece. In the moment that this was inspired, she was giving me the purest look of love known possible. I would greatly love to be able to recall it on demand. Mei Beautiful: This is where he confirms the suspicions that he has a crush on her. 501

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Learning Endless Wonders: I thought to myself as I cycled one morning that I would never be able to learn all that there was about her; a quest of that magnitude excites me. i: The symbol for the imaginary number (the square root of 1.) Love seemed like such an imaginary beast, too. Until her. The Fireflies: As I child I used to catch fireflies around my house. Now it is rare to seem them in any woods. They are much like love, difficult to find, harder to catch, and impossible to keep locked up. Cada Noche: We used to talk late into the night, scarcely sleeping. Alien to Me: She used to tease me, telling me that I was probably some kind of alien. (I didn't ex pect her to find that out so soon...) Pleasing Cascades: I walked along, thinking about how she was truly my “happy pill.” Movement is Relative: Late one night I thought about how necessary all the disappointment and detours that I had faced in my life were, that way I could truly appreciate an angel's love. Femme Fatal Attraction: I thought about how love has to be irrational and incomprehensible, otherwise I would bore of it. One Sublime Creation: Love clears the mind and adds focus to a person, enabling them to be constant. The Birthday of an Angel : I wrote this for her birthday, but have still been unable to share it with her. She stays as busy as I do. Uma Coisa Mais: Morning breath aside, there comes a point when a person is certain that they want to wake up to the most glorious and refreshing vision possible—the one they love. Slumbering St. Elmo's Fire: I must have closed my eyes. See Your Sunlight Shine: When I wrote this as a newly enthralled lover, I hoped to avoid the one thing that seems to always smother love—taking one's partner for granted. All the while I knew it would happen, because that is life. When we realize we take someone for granted, it is al ready too late. You see it by the details of how you interact with that person, how excitement seems to fade, and how polite words like thank you diminish, since their efforts seem ordinary and normal, and are thus easily overlooked. Crafted Perfectly: I was accused of only liking her because she was Chinese, and therefore dif ferent. While it's true that I appreciate her uniqueness, and that I don't want to date another Southerner, her “exotic” race had nothing to do with the attraction. Igneous Love: Igneous rocks result from volcanic activity, and love should be volcanic—explo sive at first and then rich and nourishing ever after, with many more of passion's eruptions. Asexual Embrace: I like the ABCB/B BCDC/C CEFE/E rhyme scheme. And yes, not every hug or kiss stems from a desire for sex. Doce Darme Por Vencido: To live for any cause is much harder than merely dying for it. There comes a point when a person has to give in to their heart's common sense. Your Kiln : On a cold night like the one in which I write this note, I would really appreciate such a kiln. V.S.O.: I was once text messaged from an unknown source to contact my significant other. It 502

More Heresies from Iyan Igma struck me then that I just had a Very Significant Only. Faded Epitaphs: Oblivion is the greatest monument for love, since this earth will fade away, but the secret intimacy will remain throughout eternity in the hearts of the only two that matter: lovers. Highest Expression of Love: She is a miracle that has taught me more about blessings than I could learn in 2.74^3 lifetimes. Jinghism: I expect this to be the next mainstream religion. Lo Que Sea: Love's true potential is to transform us into more mature and sincere creatures than we were. Like Each Day Was a Gift : There are many gifts and blessings in life which we take for granted; the greatest of these is love. No matter how battered we may feel, life is never as bad as we perceive. Lo Haré: Early on, I was made to promise that no matter what happened, I would never give up in life, but go for my dreams. Wonder if she realized she was my dream? Sunshine in a Season of Discontent : In one of the most difficult times of my life, when I felt abandoned and isolated by all I once held dear, she was faithfully there to cheer me. The Missing Link : This was obviously written in reference to Darwinism and the “missing link” that purportedly joins our evolutionary history to monkeys. However, she is not the link to apes, but to love, and the next evolution of my soul. Unconventional, But Not Bizarre : Human nature seems to be to debase oneself, to lack con fidence. When she doubts why he would love her, he tells her of her wondrous traits, which she seems to have forgotten. This Way: He appeals to logic with her: Do age and race really matter, when compared to love? I had actually written this right before receiving a parable indicating that I should probably stick to someone my own age and race. This made quite the reply. Without a Purpose: He would be nothing without her love. Mais Do Meu Ser: I wrote this shortly before a Sunbelt Writer's meeting in mid2008. I was go ing to read it, but settled for “Meditation in an Embrace.” If a person loves another more than they love their own self, can it truly be counted as love? I Beseech Thee: You have to feel sorry for this guy; he's resorted to begging and groveling. She probably likes it. No Hope to Shine: No gem could hope to be as radiant her. Per Buddhist Maxims: A rebuttal to the implied argument that their culture and customs would forbid marriage, based on her own Buddhist beliefs. Logic and belief are nasty when used against you. Tradition's stronger than logic: Traditional Chinese wedding customs are very complicated, but he'd be willing to undergo them. Ne'er Separated: Ah, young love. It never sees beyond the passion and initial warmth of inti macy, no matter what it thinks. Heart in Return: I ask only a trifling favour: your heart. The Ambrosia of Blissful Moments : What we know of as love is merely a hint at future love if we have the courage to be true. 503

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Consecrated in Devotion: And so they wed. Like Atlas: Written because she has a unique feel in my arms. At this point in the sequence, they have been married. Through Matted Tresses: She's just gotten out of the shower. Secretly Awaited: This is actually a mixture of three separate poems that I was ultimately too lazy and uninspired to write. Visage of Serenity: Sleep is the enemy of one who wishes to cherish the most intimate moments. Meditation in an Embrace : This occurs on their wedding night. It was initially to be the next to last poem. I read this in a Sunbelt Writer's meeting, and I expected either a heart attack or a rep rimand, judging from their worried looks. They didn't expect me to share something so intimate (af ter I had been prodded to share for an hour, though I wasn't in the mood.) This was honestly writ ten based off of imagination, with nothing personal involved. Ever So Slightly: They are walking along the beach before dawn. Over and Anew : Love is a new beginning. My Sun: A serious children's book written about divorce, which I decided to include here strictly because of my feelings about the book, written in one sitting in September 2008. The child must con front the abiding pain of separation, missing daddy, seeing mommy cry, and wondering what the fu ture holds in store. The child assumes full responsibility and blame. School performance suffers. Even though par ents assure him that it's not his fault, he still feels guilty. There are fears about visitation and new stepparents. But as the child learns to learn the basic truths that he's not at fault and his parents will always love him, he recovers. It takes a while. It takes parents' love. Short Stories, Fables, and Their Ilk: A ragtag addendum to what would have been an en tirely poetic volume. The Lamb and the Ewe: This was a bit of a sentimental fable, which is not why it was short. I was presenting a program on fables for the Sunbelt Writers in October, and gave a few examples of minifables. “Field Mouse” and “Cottontail” were other examples given. Field Mouse : The perfect example of a true friend. Cottontail: I once dated someone who ordered me to never give her flowers, but eventually got up set that I didn't give her flowers. Nor obedience nor poetry nor other forms of adulation were suffi cient. The Naked Mole Rat and the Bat: I wrote this in a Sunbelt Writer's meeting in October dur ing a 10 minute window. I had to rush the ending. No one there had heard of a naked mole rat. What a pity, since it's the only creature that can rival my animal magnetism. The Kangaroo and the Horse: At the time, I had been pondering on my dislike of receiving gifts or assistance, since strings invariably were attached. Spider and Wasp: I was pondering on how I should not let silly things get under my skin. Meerkat and Magpie: What can I say? I love A. E. Housman's poetry. Kanga: Kanga has the same problem that I do. She helps everyone so much that she neglects her 504

More Heresies from Iyan Igma own needs. Platypus : This attempts to describe the evolution of the platypus, as well as have moral value. I fear it fails on both accounts, but it is definitely hilarious. My listeners have loved it, though one had never heard of a platypus before. The Pachyderm Who Forgave : Finding myself in need of forgiving others so that I can move on with my life, that is, forgiving them for forgiveness's sake, not to move on, I was inspired to write this twisted tale about a rat who's antics would prove its undoing. The Flamingo: I'm not sure how I managed to be thinking about plastic flamingos at the front desk of the library, but the thought somehow slipped into my head. Thus, this fable was born. Am I Dreaming?: In January 2009, I was determined to finish this book. However, there were several prose works that needed to be written. I had half a mind to omit them, making this book completely poetic. I thought about it before I went to sleep, and had this bizarre dream, which is natural for me. It was the answer to my question. So, based off of the energy and inspiration the dream gave me, I decided to flesh out the prose section. Rustic Sense: The old man in me talking to the children I shall never have, giving them words of advice that they will never need, since they will never have to worry about the ills of this world and the perpetual need of society to enslave itself, whether to debt, government, technology, or pride. The First Murder: A dramatic tale that popped into my head while biking to work. It depicts the circumstances that Adam and Eve faced postEden, their struggles to find food and shelter, the surprises that instinct would give them, and the degeneration of animal friendships. I thoroughly enjoyed profaning sacred history. Absolution : I wrote 90% of this during the Dementia era, but simply was not inspired to finish it then. With this doctrinal discourse given by Screwtape's far less eloquent master, I shall surely lose any Catholic readers as I might have. 505

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Translations You can count your lucky stars that, though plenty of words and phrases came from other languages in this book, only 2 poems were largely written in Spanish. If you really want the rough ideas of what they mean, which means that you're some kind of freak who hasn't been scared off yet, then please read below. And, might I add, that you're my hero. Lo Merezco (I Deserve It) Is there nothing I can do To heal the gaping wound? Even though it causes you to suffer, It pains me far worse. 5 I am filled with agony; It's clear that I deserve it. Without you I shall never live; I don't know how it is that I'm not dead. 506

More Heresies from Iyan Igma Who You Are (Quien Eres) You went chasing butterflies, But I went chasing after you. You stopped to eat raspberries, But it was of love that I ate. 5 And the savour and beauty That attract me are yours. Since, even though nature enchants me, You have trapped my heart. You'll always be whom I adore 10 Because your smile's worth more than gold, And even though the flowers shall die And all loves shall end, My feelings shall never change Simple because of quien eres. 15 And this is my promise Given from a noble heart: I will give you all that you desire. Yes, I will honour every sweet sound That your voice makes live 20 With the energy of the noon Which causes my soul to feel A glorious, beautiful joy. I went chasing after a little angel That granted me heaven 25 When this such well beloved woman Gave me a sacred kiss. My life ended in that moment, And I was reborn lovingly, Having obtained the most important thing: Someone to love eternally. 507

More Heresies from Iyan Igma About the Author Some say Iyan Igma wasn't hugged enough as a child. Others think that he's a prophet or visionary. Still others think he only has eight toes. Of course, those are just the people that live inside his head. The real Iyan Igma is a mischievous, meddling, mediocre megalomaniac who hails South Georgia. Most people wouldn't think that he's as strange as his writings would make him appear. He likes peace and quiet, although he never gets any. He has been aptly described by Coby as one who apparently goes around breaking mirrors (purely in selfdefense, though) and one who has no life. Iyan tries to miss a meal occasionally in order to pretend like he is a starving artist. Don't worry, he has no intentions of quitting his day job soon. Iyan works full time, goes to college, writes in the spare moments he has to make, and sleeps occasionally. That seems to be the general plan for the next short eternity. His favorite poets are Robert Browning, Edgar Allen Poe, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, Alexander Pope, A. E. Housman, and Dr. Seuss. He loves Shakespeare, Bernard Shaw, Voltaire, Oscar Wilde, and many other Renaissance and Enlightenment era authors. Mythology of any sort is fascinating to him, just like writing in the third person. His other works include The Dementia of Iyan Igma, which this is a followup to, and the unfinished collection of poetry and prose he wrote when he was seventeen. It's called The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma. He has several more books forthcoming, including the last third of the Dementiaera material, known as Out of Purgatory. It is a handful of epic and mockepic tales. Trust me, you don't want to read any of what he writes. 508

By Iyan Igma Adult Poetry & Short Fiction: 1. The Dementia of Iyan Igma (2008) 2. The Repressed Memories of Iyan Igma (2008) 3. More Heresies from Iyan Igma (2009) 4. Blather (2009) [Omnibus] 5. 笑玲 Smiling (2009)* 6. Rorschachs (2009, hopefully)** 7. in significance (2009) Children's Books: 1. My Sun (2009) 2. How To Get Rid of Monsters (2009) 3. Mommy's Tired (2009) 4. Wizard Tears (2009) 5. The Turtle in the Millpond (2009) 6. Yaatoocheefenokee (2009) 7. Special Delivery (2009) 8. A Mother's Love (2009) 9. Assorted Silliness (2009) Children's Books for Adults: 1. There's a Conservative Outside My Window (2009) Fantasy Books 1. Leaving Belucía (2009) Cookbooks 1. It Probably Won't Kill You...(2009) Visit ww.iyanigma.com for the latest news and free downloads. *Smiling is a selection of some of the happier moments from the first three poetry books. **Rorshachs is an illustrated selection of the dark and twisted tales from the first three poetry books.

More Heresies From Iyan Igma

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