Old poems I meant to put up...(11 & 12)
Na na na na.
I do hand-stands on my feet,
and I rise down from my knees.
I'm just a relfection,
and I'm incomplete.
I swallow you up
[up]
I choke you down
[down]
My head's beating hard,
and my heart spins round 'n round.
You're where the sun wakes in the west,
and I'm grazing in your nest.
I swallow you up
[up]
I choke you down
[down]
You try to crawl away from me, my love,
I sniff you out like a blood hound.
Na na na na..
You cannot possibly describe how it feels.
It is like falling into a cactus.
Better than food?
Sometimes.
Better than sex?
I wouldn’t know.
It is perforating a bit of your soul, ripping it
And pasting it down to a piece of paper.
Literally, or not so literally?
I’m a poet, sometimes I don’t make sense.
But it’s all a part of the art, and soon enough
You will see through the glasses I do.
If only through my words.
How romantic.
Just frustrating, occasionally.
When you say it like that…it sounds kind of hard.
You make poetry everyday when you breathe, sleep, eat,
cry, laugh,
When you make children, it is the ultimate form of art
They are tangible and poetry in themselves.
Everything about you has rhyme and cadence.
It is not hard.
So, you’re saying it’s better than-or as good as-sex?
[sigh] I guess so…