Spring of '82, the second semester of my freshman year in college, was a productive time writing-wise; I also began developing life-long friendships, experimenting with drugs, and exploring my sexuality. For a short time I thought I was in love with another young man - fortunately I got over that pretty quickly as his life descended into a nightmare of heavy cocaine abuse.
Two poems inspired by him:
FOR ONE PERSON April 21 1982
Why does it have to be impossible
to express what you feel without schmaltz?
Why is it that when you say how good it is,
people always seem to find the faults?
It happened in a dream (it didn't happen at all)
A soft, wonderful dream (We were drunk. It was wet.)
Oh, comfortable dream! (Oh, nothing hurts more)
God damn my soul! (Then will it feel better?)
I feel enclosed (I'm all alone in space)
My head reels madly (I am in control of my life)
A fantasy come true (A living nightmare)
And fire in my eyes (cold water in your heart).
-- Later the same day I wrote this, and then when I was looking through this pile of papers some years later, I added a comment: "I have not yet met the person I wrote this to."
FOR ANOTHER PERSON
You never worried 'bout it
you never cried
you just said no
all the times that I tried.
I hate this damn feeling
that can't be denied
and I'll never look long enough
into your eyes.
Never look long enough
into your eyes.
No comments:
Post a Comment