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Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Recalling Your First Love

Ah, young love. How many poets have spent time riffing on this, the most common and most unique of all of life's experiences? Everyone falls in love, and the first time it happens to you sets the stage for everything that follows, doesn't it?

But the thing about first loves that poets, writers and songbirds neglect to mention is that they are the first but not the last. First loves are always superseded by subsequent arrivals, by definition, and the vast majority of them are relegated to the past, only to be dusted off and examined on those occasions we decide to rummage about in the attic of our memories. First loves are history, our personal history, sure, but history nonetheless.

Let's face it, they are all unique, and at the same time, they are all exactly the same.


I encourage you to be a child once more
to run and play with abandon,
disregard the date, and the time,
waiting for street lights to signal you home.
Laugh as hard as you can, simply because you can,
throw pebbles into the pond
not as weapons, but as keys to open the water.

When you think of grief,
you think of seedlings that refuse to open,
and songs that change the shape of their sound
before they come to the end.
Grief is little more than fog
as thick as blizzard-snow
laying down upon the surface of your soul.
But even fog has weight,
and it dampens all it touches.

You recall how she smelled of rain,
and summer breezes carrying laughter.
You know that when she cried,
the sound rose and stirred within you,
until it became the rasp of expensive pearls
dragged across mahogany, click-sliding into your mind.

Mostly, you miss the long walks together,
when the sun would burn off the day’s red walls,
her smile breaking into yours
with the fizz of soda pop
and the sweetness of a first kiss.

Saturday, May 14, 2011

Never Say Never

I always thought that I was a private person, that I would NEVER end up blogging - publicly journaling - my life and the happy crap that goes on in it. I would NEVER share my innermost thoughts with the world at large, I am a guy, and guys don't do that crap, right?

When I was kid, my mom could NEVER get me to do simple chores. Things like doing the dishes, or laundry, or vacuuming was woman's work, something I would NEVER do. My bedroom as a teenager was a study in creative drapery, clothes covering every available surface, hanging from almost every object, competing for space with the hundreds of books, comic books, magazines, canvases, paints, brushes, food remnants and 8-track tape cartridges that were everywhere. I always said that I would NEVER want to sleep in a tidy, orderly space,that was not for us creative types.

I NEVER cared much for cars, or how to fix them. I was NEVER interested in street names, I navigated by landmarks. I had no interest in gardening, or cooking, I would NEVER bother with regular maintenance, that was for squares, if something broke, I'd just get another one, right?

Well, I'm sure you can guess where this is going. I have learned a lot from then until now, and all of those things I would NEVER do are now everyday occurrences for me. One of the hardest lessons I've had to learn was to NEVER say NEVER.


I am sorry for the lessons
In psycho-social hysteria.

I never learn.

To my eyes you are as dark
as Vienna chocolate.

I never win.

Against the monsters in the dark
I hang curtains of bladed silver.

I never fear.

But for the grace of mistakes
I would roar as a ghost-lion.

I am never quiet.

My fists are forever balled for a fight,
my teeth sharpened by debate.

I never quit.
Wanting to explain the moon
means I will never swim the seas.

It never ends.
Every hand has been mis-dealt,
cheating by playing with myself.

I am never wrong.

And my words, though clouded to you
reveal everything that I am.

I never learn.