Sorry for the delay -- it's just too irritating trying to type much at home, and I didn't come into campus this weekend.
Am late for class, so a quick poem or two from this weekend. I may try to write more later -- depends on how much work I get done. :-)
NO SOLACE, EVEN IN WORDS
When first I wrote of you, my rage,
seething and suffocating
strangled my throat. My voice emerged
a thin whisper, a drowning reed.
Back to the beginning.
Concrete the images --
thin face, cold and stern;
the long line of your back,
twisted as you turned away;
fey and strange, with no
human gentleness left for me.
There you were, and my ink
flowed easier, chronicling each
disappearing mark of love long gone
till you lay complete
and beautiful
upon the white sheets.
It seems the pen has betrayed my heart.
*****
October 8, 1996
TENTATIVE CONCLUSION:
LOVE IS MORE POWERFUL THAN POETRY
I scatter images and
metaphors across my page;
ships loaded high with
weighty cargo.
Poets agree that this common language
may be shaded and revealed
with close analysis.
You confound my every explanation
and attempt. For single example:
broken leaves should emphasize
dying; each sere and yellowed leaf
a whispered promise that age is
inescapable, even forboding;
yet I cannot help
remembering -- you loved the autumn.
*****
October 8, 1996
--ugh. It's so hot, it's hard to think, much less work. gonna go get some lunch then try finding a cooler computer lab. wish me luck.