Post in Which I Post an Old Ghazal

I recently was offered the opportunity to get a book of essays published by my alma mater (LC Greyhounds Stand Up!). It's a pretty neat concept, actually...three separate classes in the Humanities Department work together to create the book: an editorial group, a design group, and an advertising group. I'd really like to help them out, but as it stands:

1. All of my stuff that I haven't written in Alabama is god-awful. Embarrassingly so. It's a miracle I got into graduate school in the first place. 22-year-old Brian was a terrible writer. Probably a terrible person too. I like to think I've gotten better (!?)

2. All of the stuff that I'm working on right now is part of a much much larger project/book length piece.

Anyway, during my examination of those deep dark folders on your hard drive with all of your ancient high school/undergraduate works that terrify you, I was reminded of three weeks in graduate school where I tried to write form poems, as they are the only type of poems that I can possible write. And so, here is the most successful poem I've ever written, which, obviously, is a ghazal about Indian food.

I always order the same thing: chicken tikka masala.
I don’t want to try saag; I want chicken tikka masala.

The dish is quite far from traditional Indian cuisine.
Chefs in Great Britain created chicken tikka masala.

In India, do men slice their fingers and lament in their own blood about unrequited love,
As I write about blondes I slightly know in the red-orange sauce of chicken tikka masala?

I have since tried saag. It is quite delicious. And a few other things, but I don't remember their names right now.

There is a chance (small chance, I'm sure) that the undergrad classes would be interested in my Dispatches From the University of Alabama English Department Football League or perhaps the AWP NYC Liveblog or perhaps the forthcoming AWP Chicago Liveblog. Not to say that I had anything to do with those liveblogs. Nope. God no. Wasn't me. I swear. *cough*