Bhanu Kapil writes “I remembers” with fourth graders. These children are brilliant. Magic. Geniuses.

I remember when I would write poetry in elementary school. Every couple months our class would have a showcase. Our parents would come. We would display our talents. I would always read an original poem. They were often about seasons and candy (what else is new)…and the relationship between seasons and candy (candy corn–so autumn). I was proud that I didn’t have to use a rhyming dictionary to write my poems and the kids would say, “One day you’ll be a famous poet. One day you’ll have a huge book of poems!” One time I tried to do a piano recital but got nervous and fucked up. So I thought, I should stick with the poems. And I’ve stuck with words all this time.

Highlights from Bhanu’s trip to Garfield Elementary School: I Remember: [1]

I remember my great grandma was dying.

I remember that my aunt crawled out of bed in a T-shirt and tiny pink shorts.

I remember the almanac on the chair.

I remember my bed.  I remember the lightning.  I remember the book of time.

I remember my aunt getting in a car accident and getting killed.

I remember the child.

I remember the report.

I remember the plan.

I remember I was on the floor and he told me to get up off the floor and I did.

I remember the voyages and Sally and the world being trashed.

I remember we were going to stop at Starbucks this morning but we didn’t have time.

I remember the book of time.

I remember the north.

I remember the Gulf of Mexico oil spill. I remember all the people shouting in the war.  I remember when I read for the first time about the second world war.  I remember how they killed the human race and all the oxygen.

I remember the trees and the oxygen.

I remember reading a French book in bed during the thunder and lightning.

I remember waking up and playing my Japanese games on my  laptop.

I remember seeing the word: “elements.”

I remember seeing the words: “now you are the fastest piglet in the county.”

I remember the wolf pack taking breaths.

I remember the day I wasn’t able to see my brother.

I remember a really bad tasting chocolate cupcake.

I remember the child.  I remember the report. I remember the plan.

I remember the day.

I remember the night.

I remember what it felt like.

I remember.