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Tuesday, November 18, 2014

Whitman

I have decided what it is that I want for Christmas.
I want the feeling that I get when I read Walt Whitman.

His words break.  I imagine his beard.
I imagine Allen Ginsberg, Columbia University, New York City reading his crackling lines and licking his lips, looking around.

Touching himself.  Lusting after words.
plunged 
    your tongue
 to my 
    bare-stript 
        heart

I was 13 and the words didn't make much sense but I read them.  The lyric cry swept over me and I believe in barbaric yawpsI believe in bare-stript hearts.

30 years old and I still shiver sometimes. 
Blind loving wrestling touch, sheath'd hooded sharp-tooth'd touch!
Did it make you ache so, leaving me?
The sensuality of the earth, the waters, the sweat, the people passing by on the streets and the grass beneath our feet is hope.

I want the feeling of Whitman coursing through my veins at a moment's notice - abandoning me to syllables and sex, men and women and the courage to love one's self, one's body, one's place in this dance.

I'm writing it on my wishlist.  Give me Whitman.




Monday, September 15, 2014

Nice Dream

I have never been to Europe.
When I was ten, I knew who would be Saved
and who would go to hell. And I told them.
I told them all the truth, hard but honest,
because I had the answers to all the important questions.

When I was in high school I knew a girl who pronounced oregano like the state
But the way that people from Oregon hate to hear it said
Ore-a-gone o.
I knew who was going to heaven
and I knew who was going to hell
and I could damn well pronounce spices and I
knew all the words to Wonderwall.

I have slept with one man.
My parents always told me that it was good to wait,
it was something that you saved for your spouse,
like how you save all your birthday money for something really good,
and they said that something will love you forever and you won't have anything to compare to,
and so it'll be great, because you won't know better.
I have slept with one man,
and I'm glad for it,
but I don't think ignorance should remain a positive,
and sex no longer makes me afraid.

I have never been to Europe.
I don't know about heaven or hell.
I question myself every time I pronounce cumin and anise.
I know all the words to Wonderwall.
If you wanted the answers
to all the hard questions,
I'd suggest you consider Google before you consider me.

I have more doubt than certainty,
I have to count points because I don't trust myself around chocolate,
I have a son who looks at me and asks “What's that?” and I know that
one day I won't have the answer for him
and he'll know.