something of a love - (a poem in six)
one
I was not born from the sea,
or near it even,
but from the dirt
where bike tires lay tracks
on the back road summers
and from where the violets bruise
the hillsides.
this is where
I have learned first of love.
to be attached to life
in ankle deep mud fields
where I disappeared
behind rows of corn
to emerge with scratches and hunger.
this was first love.
and you were not even there yet.
my life before living with you
was scarcely that.
but I will tell you of it wholly
and holy it is, when god speaks
and when I speak of love
know that it is always god
or some distortion of it.
like the god of scraped knees.
oh you were there too, only
far off from me.
when I had visions
of a roller-skating heaven
and the devil lived as pebbles
in the alleyway
amongst the tin cans
and the broken bottles.
look now,
I see him shining from the sunlight
and he is laughing.
I remember him
as I remember all things
born of my fears.
there is a heaven of monsters
I am sure of this,
for in my youth
as a slayer of them
I sent many a good fear
to that celestial grave.
a childhood champion I became
but all successes bring weariness.
I grew tired of chasing
fire-flies
and promptly resigned that love
to pursue the sea.
I could not smell salt from there
and had no clue
as to where the sea would be
or if even it would happen to me.
two
we are pyrhic hunters
with an explicit bounty
making fodder of desire.
and I feed on longing
and I feed on desperation
and I feed on triumph of losing
for I have lost you
somewhere in these fields
my something of a love.
three
I do not want you
not now
no longer
I do not want you here.
with a dial tone love song
in a beaten old phone
off the road
one lover
romantic
is Oh so
romantic alone.
I cannot smell the sea
but the salt rain
is burning my nose
and the dust is in my eyes
and the bugs are in my teeth,
but still I see no sea.
I want you there.
clothed in the sun
and nothing much else
but the water and the sand.
I want you
leaving marks on the beach
in tiny footprints
side by side.
not here,
not in this state
could I smile for you.
there, in the cabana
wait for me,
and go no where sea,
do not leave
for I will find you
lovely and all.
and though
I cannot swim
I will float.
four
I have missed my exits
and I think on purpose
I am delayed.
growing weary
of the road-life
I have pulled off.
is this a new kind of love?
is this dementia of a hungry ghost?
then feed into it
I did
and the most comfort
is in this complaint.
I thought I heard you
in a café
near oklahoma
ordering your food
in spanish,
though it is not your language.
I turned
and faced a mountain
of lonely women
piling higher than the horizon.
you were not in company.
I promptly made my exit,
and this is where I am again.
I am still coming
so do not let the moon turn on us
and keep your eyes on the tide,
careful to not be pulled away,
as I have been
by the lying allure
of immediacy.
but the women were so
beautiful at times
that is has been
torture to deny them.
so we danced
when the music played.
and we kissed
when we were drunk
and we were often drunk.
we slept
when we were tired
but I tell you
they were never in my dream
though they shared my bed.
I dreamt only of the sea
and I drowned
in my sleep,
forgetting how to breath.
five
does this place live
or not?
in the ebb and flow
on foamy shores
is there life beyond a picture?
I think I heard the sun sizzle
as it passed
and it was dark already
still I have not found you.
there was no message
lest you scribed it
in the sand
and it was washed away.
it must be there then.
out into that shushing plain.
you must be there too.
I know now of my fate.
with my arms hugging the horizon,
and my legs not weak
with nervousness
but strong in conviction,
I face west
and leap.
six
where were you then?
oh how deceitful
the stars must be!
I went and leapt
and did not kick,
but drifted down
to find you.
how foolish lovers are,
but I start again.
though I was not born from the sea…