Plenary Notes

(i)

Apparently, you can never tell;

Distinguish the reality

We live in, where gods are

more human than human, yet

profoundly

universal

We---fragmented audiences

A community of shared dreams

Questions and insights

Where the men made speeches;

and the women made coffee

In the family living room,

The neighborhood theater's

Sexual landscape is anxiety-ridden

Too far from the certainties of tradition

This is where begins the

Great Singapore Novel:

A one-way street

Two thousand years in trouble---

And still waiting for

The click in the head

(ii)

On day two a game

Of wit and riddle

Translated into many languages

Carefully, in the arena of our

creative

struggle

Inside the house of my mind:

Top-soil in fruition, ravages

Of tropical typhoons billowing

Under her lilting un-English voice

Writing is the perfect verbal icon;

A subversive act picking upon

Pieces regained, or restored

Pieces to map our poetic terrain---

Firebrand blazing into revolt,

a struggle of too much order

(Let it be closed from the floor)

Now love gathers us all and we

Sing, because

We must

(iii)

She is so soft, nearly

not rooted in the tangible

We are compelled to pay heed

Never a proper job; and

We live in fear of execution;

Even when we penetrate souls with

The exploit of gods

Time, like a great tent to cover

Generations; plucked

Like flowers from the air

When I lower a bucket into

The subconscious do you feel

the heat of my imagination?

I carry no conviction

As always, we are hemmed in

by emotions, the hearts of people

closest to us

As we rearrange, and rearrange

The harsh and brutish lives

Of the ancient storytellers

We acquire language;

We acquire

Stories