Tom Lenk

I’m almost at the end of watching the complete ‘Buffy The Vampire Slayer’ (again.) Yes, I cried when Oz left; yes, I cried when Xander gave his ‘you are extraordinary’ speech to Dawn, and yes, I cried more than I thought possible when Anya did her fruit punch speech in The Body (still the finest 42 minutes of TV ever produced.) I have issues with seasons 6 and 7, mostly because they weren’t really needed. The end to season 5 was simply perfect. That said, 6 and 7 did throw up some amazing moments (the above speech of Xander’s for instance.)

Andrew, a marvellous character, was severely underused in season 6, but that’s fine, as that is more than made up for in season 7. Andrew becomes my favourite character. I loved the way he managed to edit his world in such an endearing (and perhaps benignly psychopathic – except for Jonathan, obvs) way; how he managed to make everything a movie and his bright-eyed enthusiasm for complete narrative arcs. Naive, vulnerable, gullible but ultimately redeemed… a rather wonderful and slightly undervalued performance.

Anyway, this is a preamble to probably the oddest poem I’ve written. It’s based on the idea of repeating something with minor edits to make the story more acceptable – something we all do – and how everyone turns themselves into the hero of their own story.

And it’s very odd.

It also says something (although god knows what) about the writing and editing process and really, other than the vague link to Andrew in Buffy, has nothing to do with Tom Lenk – except an acknowledgement of fandom, of course.

Did I say it’s odd? Because it’s odd…

Tom Lenk

Then there are those days spent in denial. 
Remembering wrong, so events seem 
more palatable. Going over the details.
A small change each time until
the truth of it is lost, and I make myself a myth.

Control a, control x.

Then there are those days spent in the Nile. 
Remembering Ron, so events seem 
more palatable. Going over the details, 
small change each time until
The truth of it is lost, and I make myself a myth.

Control a, control x.

Then there are the ways I travelled The Nile. 
Dismembering Ron, events are 
unreasonable. Going over to retail, 
small change given each time until
the truth is lost. Something is amiss.

Control a, control x.

Then there are the ways I travelled The Nile. 
Dismembering John. Events are 
unseasonable. Going over to resale 
Small changes given each time until
the truth is lost. Something is amiss.

I travelled The Nile
Dismembering Josh Irish
Seth vents, unreasonable,
Sailing until fruit falls. In youth.
Lost in oasis.

Control a, control x.

I travelled the Nile
I set no store in Seth
I retell the stories
of abundance and fertility.
I am dismembered,
and lost. I am Osiris.

Control a, control x, undo.