Monday, November 23, 2009

New Works In Progress

Ever since the publication of my book, I've been somewhat lazy about doing any serious poetical work. But I'm making up for that by writing way better poems than I used to. (Not that the ones in my book aren't amazing also, mind you.)

This is a new piece that I'm adding to my ever-growing collection of "Love Poems."

(I'm starting to turn into Lord Byron, E.E. Cummings, or Stephen Dunn.)


[jump to continue - click header]


it's complicated

as a young man i knew the steps that led
to a one-night stand, casual
fling, dating, a relationship
how to interpret a kiss, a caress
the way the shoulders concave away from me
or legs intertwined unavoidably closer
(convex love was always better)

it was so much simpler than any personal definition
of what is hooking-up, of what is boyfriend/girlfriend
of what is just sex    and what is turning into love

proper forms followed instinctually
since the first time you played spin the bottle
the distorted circles, awkward giggles
since that middle-school dance
where you learned to french-kiss
we've had our instruction
on how to go about fucking, loving, and all that other stuff

now i'm older    the rules are different
like a song i've heard but never played
awkwardly fumbled notes, listening for my cues
her feelings for me feeling for her
feeling out so i can keep playing

we're lovers — not in love
      (the noun to verb is confusing
i don't know how the mad-lib will end
and that frightens me
because i think i could love her if i wasn't just her lover)
still seeing other people
a mutually nonexclusive contract between us
lets me fritter away
feelings for other women passes the time
(always hair-color-coded, remembered:
blonde co-ed    wearing her college sweatshirt
brunette    likes jazz and kung-fu movies
auburn    bartender
bought me a drink last night)

then i'm back in bed again
kissing the sides of her neck
as her waist presses gently up against me
whispered intimacy, like
the taste of her lipstick on my pint-glass

but when we have sex i can't
too many faces flashing during those lustful minutes
too many others for just us    tangle-twisted in the sheets
impotent divergent intentions: some to suck, some to fuck
some to give me what I really want

these barely moments beautiful are not
can't get it up, none of it is ever enough
when all my desires are spread so thin
too little butter scraped over too much bread

1 footnotes:

Melanie's Randomness said...

Woa that is an amazing poem. It says just so much.