Share the Selfishness
Available elsewhere, and from Amazon:
“In elegantly-wrought laments of self-loathing and mean-spirited love poems, the author finds that he has more to say on already exhausted subjects, and gives voice to the kind of thoughts most people prefer not to express but will nevertheless automatically relate to and be entertained by. Tottenham has staked out a singular terrain where egotism and self-loathing meet, where futility merges with urgency, and beauty is created out of bitterness. If nothing else, he furnishes proof that a poet maudit can still, if not thrive, at least survive, alive and unwell, in this benighted age.”
– from the introduction, by Louis Pipe
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.
DEFERVESCENCE
Hooked on a Feeling
Art and Eros
A Lover’s Plea
LXXXV
There are no levees capable
of withstanding the torrents of distraction
that surge through my mind. Tender
resentments, useless trivia and tired lusts
are carried along like debris on a swollen river,
from which, very occasionally, a lucid thought
emerges – only to be sucked back down
into the sewage of pettiness and vanity.
Desire and Desirability
We lie side by side, basking in the warm glow
Of an attraction tempered by considerations
Of age and failure. The window of opportunity narrows
As irresolution asserts itself. Perhaps you would be offended,
Puzzled and disgusted by such an intrusion.
It might be asking too much of anybody:
To stanch this thirst, no longer sweet,
And dwindling into hesitation.