randon Ferguson, Opinions Editor very so often, I’m capable of genius. The time my ath- tic artistry curled the game-winning goal into the top corner from 30 yards out on the soccer pitch; the time I nabbed a bag of chips off a city worker’s truck dashboard efore offering him one of his own chips; the time I had partner salute my friend by name, mid coitus, on a unken dare; every$o often, I’m a freaking genius. But never before have I been recognized for my liter- flair. Frankly, I was beginning to think I suck. That all changed last week when I was informed that I one of 2005’s most gifted poets. It was a lazy afternoon in the bowels of Douglas College when inspiration struck. Perhaps it was the gener- al malaise of the everyday, the mundane myopia of our eing, or the eternal chicken and egg of existentialism; maybe it was just bad gyoza. Whatever the cause of those \deep internal rumblings, the effect was one of Shakespearean soliloquy. Out of the depths of despair and up through the pond scum slick of self-awareness, a em was born. Not normally known for my poetic prowess, it seems that inspiration can hit as suddenly as indigestion. But father than acidic bubbles of acrid rhymes, what spewed orth was an antacid of imagery to soothe the ulcer of ur times: “Ducky Life.” “T am delighted to inform you that your poem, “Ducky Life’ has been awarded our prestigious Editor’s Choice because it displays a unique perspective and origi- creativity—judged to be the qualities most found in ceptional poetry. Congratulations on your achievement.” Unique perspective? Original creativity? Exceptional try? Gosh golly oh my! And you know they mean LUT AERO PEEE TSS Peel fi Editor’s Choice Award Presented to Brando Ferguson January 2006 Sid@S: rm way Better than You Now business when they are so meticulous as to judge the very _qualities by which they judge the poetry. Plus, the good folks at poetry.com have offered a litany of ways to get the word—my words—out into the public discourse. Of course I want my celebrated work to be beautifully typeset on a “walnut-finish plaque under lucite.” The Deluxe Hardbound Edition—in which “Ducky Life” will be fea- tured—would make an impressive addition to any coffee . table, library, or loo. And surely they were astute to per- sonally endorse my poem for inclusion on The Sound of Poetry CD—where a professional reader will enhance the “wonderfully expressive quality” of my masterpiece. Sure, it costs a bit of coin to make these testaments _ come true; but I can bankroll that on the back of my now burgeoning future. Shee-it son—I’m gonna be rich, bitch! _ Of course, there are nay-sayers. But wasn’t Van Gogh as magnanimously crazy as he was partially deaf? Wasn’t Orson Wells called a kook after his War of the Worlds read- ing? And Sigmund Freud was only ever a cracked up coke fiend with his mind in the gutter. All three of them: a quack, a quack, and a quack. But they all let the contempt and criticism roll off of them like water off a... ' Oh my, it’s hit again! My fingers are twitching; my mind’s abuzz. All at once I’m being flooded with imagery and symmetry, poetry and prose. It’s overwhelming, this — brilliance I posses; almost too much, it seems. But not only am I gifted (much more than you, it would seem), I am strong. I can harness this power and reign in its ram- pant ferocity, its poetic curiousity. Easy does it now, one word at a time; stay steady, Brando...here comes the gift... “There once was a man named Enis...” For Outstanding Achievement in Poetry Presented by poetry.com and the International Library of Poetry oe ee a on Ta es, “poetrycom TESTO LTS) TRI IM rpm || ae 4 Dood ZAG Howard Ely | Managing Editor’ PALES OTS U eS aii Ducky Life by Brando Raoul Ferguson If my life is so ducky, then why am I about to crack? If life were just easy, Yd sit about and quack. Quack, quack, quack. Could these thoughts, be inspired by greed? If it weren’t for everyone else, it'd all be about me. Maybe that’s silly, ot maybe it’s just dumb. But sometimes life’s, just a pain in the bum. If you want to find me, . Tl be sitting by the pond. When the world’s stopped yelling, I just might respond. Quack, quack, quack.