Archive for ‘Antiepithalamia’

July 1, 2020

Iron Anniversary

The object of this restlessness that puzzles you
is solitude: a loneliness for loneliness,
a wistfulness for restlessness, a straining back
to what comes naturally – the way things used to be
when I had only me. I miss myself madly.
I long to be romantically involved
with myself again, like old times,
dependent only upon independence, demanding
only temptation. I’m better off in an empty kennel,
unmuzzled and free: that was the essence
of my doghouse epiphany.

Upon your encroachment my world shrinks.
My energy level sinks. I feel as if I’m fading away.
But your need of me is addictive: It keeps me warm,
the way a tea cozy maintains the pot’s warmth
long after the tea has lost its flavor.
Now I am continually both parched and sated,
sapped, tired of feeling, halfheartedly clinging.
With or without you, my life has no meaning.

September 1, 2018

Say You Love Me

“I love you,” she says,
and my heart sinks.
Knowing what is required of me,
I attempt to reciprocate.
But it’s a struggle,
the words won’t take shape.
No other phrase is so hard to articulate;
no other sentiment is voiced so apprehensively.
I could be honest and say: I love you
but almost everything about you annoys me…
But somehow
those three precious, perilous syllables
are squeezed out, squeamishly:
“Isle… of you.”
It never sounds right when I say it,
but I say it
to put her at ease,
because what you get out of it,
temporarily,
is peace.

 

December 23, 2017

The One

I am the one
waiting for the One.

I have never entered a room
without hoping that the One
I am waiting for
might be found there.

Despite decades of disappointment,
I still look for her in every face,
looking for somebody to become that place
where everything that falls apart
falls into place.

But if I found her, I wouldn’t want her,
for as long as the possibility
of somebody else wanting me exists,
I will always want somebody else.

And I realize now that if she ever does arrive
it will not be in the prime of either of our lives,
at a cocktail party with a drink in her hand,
but that she is more likely to arrive holding a bedpan
as I am breathing my last in a hospital bed.

Only then, with restlessness and hope extinguished,
and all other options exhausted,
will I finally be ready
for the One.

December 20, 2017

Gravy In The Rain

Italian broadcast from Radio Kaos featuring unknown interpreter “reading and stumbling over selections” of Inertia and Antiepithalamia.

 

December 2, 2017

WINDSONG

I have a heart like a wheelbarrow,
there are no windmills in my mind.
Love blows in and floats around freely
like the wind – getting in the way
of other things.

This rootless love without design,
which has no object, point or point of origin –
one looks for it in every face,
looking for somebody to become that place
where everything that falls apart
falls into place.

It seeks definition, a place of rest,
to find its home in a woman’s breast –
to die there, or multiply there.
When, surely, to keep it to oneself
would be best.

February 12, 2017

Suck Sorrow

suck-sorrow_new

Yes, my dear, we have each other:
that’s what worries me.
I wouldn’t focus on your flaws
if you did not call yourself mine;
you are the living embodiment of my failure,
another symptom of my decline.
But, darling, please don’t let our love ever die.
Because if it does, I’ll be shattered
by all the time I’ve wasted
keeping it alive.

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March 7, 2016

DEFERVESCENCE

ter_NEW

I stared at you with lust, pity and loathing,
otherwise known as love:
projecting my fantasies on to your realities,
in the hope of spoiling
this hazy embodiment of desire
with pointless needs.
Another incarnation of immateriality
that becomes a necessity:
demanding some sort of release.

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March 26, 2015

Drain in Vain

Ballast_NEW

An acute sensation of falling
for and into a black hole:
a soft focus abyss, otherwise known as bliss.
Or a train wreck, carrying hazardous waste,
something I can look forward to
looking back on with distaste.

Constantly fighting funny familiar feelings of futility,
trying to put the brakes on the morbidity,
but it keeps rolling down the line.
And as I watch it disappear,
life as I have long known it,
becomes all the more precious
and acutely defined.

February 23, 2015

Hooked on a Feeling

Vital Decline

I marvel at my feelings,
but I don’t trust them.
I’m dazzled by her,
but I don’t trust her either.
I’m not sure that she even likes me.
Which is fine, I don’t like her much either.

February 8, 2015

Valentine’s Night

It’s that time of year again.
LACE-FP_Valentines2

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