Thanks for the Short-Term Memories, or How to Get Back on that Unicorn and Ride

I know you're thinking I'm stuck in the past, but if you knew me now, I don't think you would see that.  In fact, I'm not the kind of person who even remembers the past.  If it weren't for the old boxes of notebooks and journals that I saved (most of which haven't even been opened in 20 years), it would all be lost to the ether.  I can keep friends forever, but I don't hang on to memories.

And thank god for short-term memories.  When you're young, growing into new skin and falling in love every two weeks, it really helps to not remember every humiliation that naturally follows.

But I remember enough to tell you that 1985 was really great.  In '82, '83 and '84, I had been mesmerized by unrequited love like sparklers at a birthday party. 1985 was full-on Fourth of July fireworks.  I'll be honest - it was my best year for romantic adventures and real, requited love.  Finally, what all those poems were for, right?  It was "The Rise and Fall of the Love Empire", as I called it, and I had a lot of muses.  [All right, that sounds bad, but come on!  Do you really want this story to end without love, and, at long last, some randy romps through the garden of earthly delights?  After all I've been through?]

I might say something earnest, now, about how I learned something from each lover along the way.  This is true.  I had a lot to learn.  But the most remarkable thing about '85 for me was that I felt free.  Coming of age felt good.  I was self-confident and eager.  I was graduating, going to college, and the whole world felt like it was opening up to me.  I still went through some sad, teachable moments; but in hindsight, I can't complain.  There's a lot I did that year that I won't recommend to anyone's children.  For example, AIDS was just beginning to come into our consciousness, so throwing caution to the wind didn't seem like such a gamble.  But at some point, I have to admit it was just plain fun.  Exploits that my parents would have called "irresponsible" turned out to be a blast.  24 years later, I'm here to say that there was no harm done.

The adventures that I regret - the ones that hurt me the most - were all related to slavish devotion to men who would never love me the way I felt I should be loved (although, to be honest, the door swung both ways).  There's plenty of that in my future, by the way.  By comparison, the shallow trysts and the roads-going-nowhere, the "friends with benefits" and the well-meaning infatuations (followed by well-meaning changes of heart) were really just fine by me.  It was all great while it lasted, and it kept my spirits up and out of the gutter of depression that I tended to sink into when I was bored.

And through it all, I kept writing, as prolifically as ever.  My book was nearly complete:  "Poetry:  100% Pure Beef (or Vice-Versa)".  Complete, but never sent out into the world.  Typed, bound, and left on my desk, along with a whole host of good intentions.  But I'm not going to get you down just yet.  For now, enjoy 1985 in all its glory.  It was the best of times, I'm sure - even for someone who can't remember.

Poetic Justice

Chills,

Thrills, and Spills

My soul is wriggling

beneath it's skin:

"Let me in!  Let me in!"

It's so sad to be Anonymous

and even I, myself, mistaken

I am shaken

to the bone

By Metaphor, Persona, and Tone

I am filled 

beyond my limit

with Symbolism

and Imagery in it

And just today, I've made my choice:

the world will know this poet's voice

So let the critics speak their fear

that yet another poet's here

And gladly starve, and gladly rot

for after death to share the spot

within a textbook, or a journal

or a placemat, or a paper

and though fame is known to taper --

Let me clearly be defined 

with little numbers by my lines

and little footnotes, stand to reason

when my speech is out of season

that professors will interpret

just the lines that they see fit

And happily, I'll face the hunger

both above and deep down under

but from the world, I do command

one single, solitary stand:

That in life, we be acknowledged

for the labor of our poet's hands.

- Dec. 16, 1985, A.D.

The Hour of Relative Impermanence

The hour of relative impermanence

slips by like a ghost --

kind of hazy and midnight blue;                kind of

soft and satisfied

I lower myself onto the paper

it takes me;

we breathe together

Listless river of night

soothing pond of time

we dream,

we use our words in the silence to say 

yes.

Yes, we know them well

Yes all will be complete

it's a dream, you know

don't be afraid to face it

we make these dreams

the day is functional

the night is cerebral

we make these dreams

We sift ourselves in time

Is this me?

Or, it could be this

notations and footnotes

I could be an essay

I could be a piece of cheese

But no, I am a Yes

I am a sultry Uh-Huh

moving smoothly down that placid stream

with a persuasive mellowness,

I communicate with my existence

Sensations unite

it's the hour of relative impermanence

I dream,

alive

and in this dream

I write an essay               And it says

Yes.

- Dec. 11, 1985, A.D.

Vac U

They believed in what it was

They followed the path that the others

had laid out

They learned how to live in the vacuum

I wonder

If I was ever alone

in my rebellion of it

I believed I was different

I believed I was alone

But here, I see I suffer with the rest

There is something terribly wrong 

in the Institution

It will suck you up

if you don't rebel

But it's the rebellion that kills

It drives us to our half-dead state

Our teachers can't teach

Our students can't learn

Education is dead at the State U

Perhaps

there is a place for me

Perhaps I don't belong in school

But then, who does?

Who belongs to the death?

Perhaps they will tell me

that I am at fault

I can belong, but I don't

They want to help me learn

to live in the vacuum

If I go to them,

they'll let me know that they care

But why?

Why do they exist?

Why must I shake away part of my mind

to reach goals of prosperity?

I'm already believing

that what I feel is not unique

Next, I will learn to work in spite of discontent

Then, I will lose my life

I will believe in what it is

I will follow the path that the others have 

laid out

I will learn how to live in the vacuum

- Dec. 2, 1985, A.D.

I Am Still

I lie unformed

beneath the thick, cotton comforter

in a dark and sullen silence

I feel -

beginning with my extremities;

groping underneath the sheets,

touching the corners of the bed

then, touching myself

I'm feeling for myself

And somewhere, deep within me,

there is a tremor

I try to identify it:

I feel a strength

that denies my dependencies

I am still

                         complete.

I lie unformed

beneath the thick, cotton comforter

In this dark and sullen silence,

I have found myself.

- Nov. 10, 1985, A.D.

Poetry: 100% Pure Beef (or Vice-Versa)

I keep imagining

this amazing dinner party

where everything I have written

is served on fine china

- yes, even the brussels sprouts are there,

sitting in a little metal dish behind the potatoes.

My fire burns in candles

among waxed fruit

My blood is in the wine (sorry Jesus -

I took your line)

I think it's a Chinese meal,

whose appetizers greatly outnumber the 

main courses

But oh! if you can handle the chopsticks,

you're in for a real nice surprise.

One note, however:

When the fortune cookies come, don't look!

Just close your eyes and swallow the paper whole

That way, it will always come true.

- Oct. 16, 1985, A.D.

Soaking It In

I walk

merely for the sake of walking

I don't stop

or wonder. . .

I don't smile or stare or raise my eyebrows

to a thought

but I am open

I receive all the world.

Slowly, unquestioningly, I cross the pavement

The sidewalk feels firm below me

Just in front of every step, the stems of 

dead leaves glisten

the reflections of solitary streetlights

in the Autumn rain

I take a deep breath --

I smell life.

The water soothes me

I imagine myself an explorer in a rain forest

or in a moist, musty cave

or in a future world

I close my eyes

and hear the squishing of wet socks

against the sides of my battered shoes.

Underneath the trees,

the water falls bigger

and harder

Like people who accumulate so much for themselves,

only to find the force that holds them

dropping out from underneath

They fall frightened, confused,

and bitter. . .

Faces, hidden by umbrella colors

hurried feet

anticipation

I, alone, am relaxed

I do have a destination,

but it's unimportant

The rain gently touches the shoulders

of my trench coat

I bow my head,

and feel the water trickle down

into my skin.

- Oct. 14, 1985, A.D.

I Live

Part I:

Blissful

was that bouncing baby boy

Crying from the depths of his sacred soul

once again, I live.

once again,              I breathe.

you can tear me apart with your

cold, unwanting eyes

and you can break me down to half a man

but somewhere, there's a greater purpose.

I live.

and the snapshots began.

Part II:

And his life was spotted with occasions and traumas

tiger costumes and chicken pox

cavities and promotions.

The thirty-sixth woman became his wife

The thirteenth job became his life

9000 miles a year salary and commission

twice he missed a flight that crashed

three times the rental car was stolen

His brandy helped to soften the bite

of life's complications

The purpose that was so real and so powerful at first

was not enough to be graded as an essay

he was scolded

and spanked

So he set out to dissect and to be dissected

to learn the names,

to learn the capabilities of the human mind

he found his intelligence to be painful

there were many drawbacks

there were many occasions where he suffered deeply

and neared suicide

His purpose kept him going

but it was no consolation.

Part III:

And he climbed that hill of life out of desperation,

out of fear,

out of a silent hope that kept him empty

in his soul at night

Retirement came

he watched his grandchildren grow

into their own tiger costumes and chicken pox

and cavities and promotions

He stopped working

- he had always hated work

He stopped doing

- he was never a man of action

and he sat in his chair and he thought

his dentures clicked to a slow, contemplative rhythm

but a deeper stronger sense of purpose prevailed:

I live.

- Sept. 29, 1985, A.D.

Hesitant Vulture

Oh yeah

it's gonna hit me in one blinding flash

Oh yeah

I'm gonna know when the precise moment comes

Bullshit

I cannot guess what to say or when to say it

That damn ice age --

could it still be with me?

I can't find the answer in a poem

or an essay by Emerson

or a dream

or a desire

or a tarot card

or in me

I can't find the answer in The Other

The future has come

and I'm lost

and I'm anxious

and in one quick conversation,

an entire dream could be shot down

In an instant

I am vulnerable

two weeks could distract or attract

or perhaps the answer has always been known

perhaps it is waiting for me

I will resort to complete honesty

I will speak of myself as myself

I won't prolong myself to another day

Hesitant vulture

waiting for the right hour

for the perfect piece of meat

this meat may be hard to get

but the mountain I climbed for the view

was much harder

I will be myself

I will sustain

I may survive. . .

- Aug. 28, 1985, A.D.

Gone Fishing

Poetry

you have lost me

or have I lost you?

You came to me

when all was wrong

You came to me

and all was write

Poetry

you have evaded me

or have I evaded you?

- Aug. 26, 1985, A.D.

More Photos '85

The only picture of me playing my drum set.  

Okay, also one of the only times I actually played my drum set.

And yes, I dyed my hair black.

Cosmos in the House (Dedicated to Carl Sagan)

I found a black hole in my

cupboard one day

it opened up wide

and nearly swept me away

I found a super-nova

in my cereal bowl

from then, I don't care so much

for Cheerios

And I found the moon lurking behind

my closet door

But it was waxing on my clothing

and it waned all over my floor

It was the day that the Big Dipper

came right out of my oven

That I knew this cosmic-domestic

combination had to end

I tried the strongest cleansers,

but they didn't seem to stop

the trail of Haley's Comet

from landing in my pop

I must admit it is distracting

as I try to get to sleep

when underneath the sheets,

I find a floating galaxy

Or when I sit down to watch the news

on my old T.V.

And shooting stars come popping out

to block the entire screen

I even called the exterminator

and he was blown away

He barely squeezed in through the door

because of the Milky Way

And even with my laundry I do have

substantial doubt

Because with Saturn's rings-around-your-collar,

you can't just Shout it out

And yet, I may be growing fond

of all these oddities

I guess I really shouldn't complain

if the Universe wants to live with me

I suppose I like the fact 

that I have something that's unique

Because I like to take the nebula

for a walk along the street

And maybe it's not so bad

when I'm sitting down for tea

If the Cosmos comes into the room

and has a drink with me

Yeah, I guess I'll keep these little guys

no matter how much I hate

to see dust clouds in the kitchen sink

or lurking on my plate

- Aug. 5, 1985, A.D.

You Can Take It With You: A New Materialism

The plastic kept me warm that night.

I closed my eyes and heard the towels throwing themselves against the cabinet doors.

They nearly screamed for their freedom.

I swear I never realized they had such strong feelings about their lives.

I took them out to the clothes line the next day.

I dressed myself as a blanket and watched them tug at the clothespins with violent force.

It was as tho they had somewhere else to be. . .

The next day, I changed my fabric softener.

I used herbal detergent, and tried the delicate cycle.

I also offered them jazz.

I read them Thoreau - occasionally T.S. Elliot.

Together, we studied Zen until they were rid entirely of static cling.

The next day, the dishes refused to settle.

They rattled incessantly with the vibrating refrigerator.

They offered me no choice.

I gave the fridge some incense and a good defrosting.

The dishes, I hand dried from then on.

The towels would teach them Zen while I sang to them.

And one day, as tho following a suppressed dream or an ancient instinct, the fork ran away with the spoon.

They left a note:

"There is an answer to the oppression of our lives; but it isn't through complaining or protesting with peers.  It is through positive action and only through positive action that we may rise above the constricting hold of our modern existence.

Signed,

Fork and Spoon"

Today, I shall set out to liberate the furniture.

- Aug. 3, 1985, A.D.

Small Thrills

It's a necklace I love

or a pair of shoes that I can't wait to wear

or earrings that match each other perfectly

or a great smile on an average day

Don't take anything for granted

It's the way I watched you chew your straw

after lunch every day

or a denim jacket I loved

or an outfit I put together

that you said I looked good in

It's the hug that made me ecstatic through

the mundane hours of schoolday blues

And the look in your eyes

I thought, "Wow! Someone likes me!"

It was you

There's a happiness that just can't be contained

There's a love that's waiting for an open heart

to catch it

There's a passion for life that's just dying

to be shared

It's me!

It's the real me

It could be the perfect bunch of grapes

or an exquisite lettuce and cheese sandwich

or a pencil whose lead lays down every letter

with the same inspiration as the artist's hand

It could be a color that's brilliant and captivating

Or,

It could be you.

- July 26, 1985, A.D.

Write

Write.

Write, Write.

Succession of obsessions

and grab-bag nuances

and dreams dancing to life

from the hand -

she has such mystique.           (they say)

Love-dappled paintbrush pencil

dip, dip stroke

switch to blue, then change the hues

what a hand

what meaning has this hand?

Write.

Write, Write.

Fear makes me fill these pages

a slow to stop could be fatal

my art evades me

evolve, evolve

Who shall I write for today?

- July 6, 1985, A.D.

Heading Towards the Camel Horizon

She contemplates,

accelerates,

and diminishes.

"Hold on!

Where are you going?"

(She smiles

a sad, knowing smile.

She has always loved him.)

"I can't linger.

I must move on. . ."

"Will you ever return?"

(She turns away.  Muddled tears. . .)

/i love him.  if i'm gone long enough to remember,

then i will return.

but there's no holding on

and there's no turning back

and i am leaving now/

(She turns to him)

"Perhaps I'll come again.

But don't wait for me."

"Please. . .          Don't go."

/don't go!  don't go!. . .                                  don't go?/

(She cries to herself.)

/if i stay, i will grow to hate him

if i leave, imagine the good memories!

i am victimized by expectations

NEW LOVERS SHOULD STAY APART AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE

no matter how much i want. . ./

"No, you don't understand, dear.

I'm gone - no more goodbyes.

I'll see you on a new horizon.

I love you, so don't hurt yourself.

Take care.

We'll keep in touch."

(She turns and walks away.

Question marks have spilled out of her brain

and are beginning to clog her nose and throat.)

/why oh why oh why do i put up with this torment?

i only wanted a little taste

i didn't want the heavy load of him accepting me

and appreciating me

and - dare i even think it? - wanting to be near me

AND often

this, i could not take

so who's to blame me?

it's unnatural to be devoted to someone like me

it's idiotic

it's insane

and if the only way to stop it is to hurt him,

why i -

i -

i didn't mean to cause the pain

i know. . .

i could have stuck around and we could have gone through

hell together

and then -

then?

no, i've already been through all of this

it's settled

i've walked away and i have not left any personal belongings

in his house

i am the phosphorescent lamb,

and it's a sunset like the ads for the cigarettes i smoke

- i'm heading towards the Camel horizon. . ./

(She lifts her head up, dries her face,

and waits for the "walk" signal.)

She contemplates,

accelerates,

and diminishes.

- June 25, 1985, A.D.

Poetry: 100% Pure Beef (or Vice-Versa)

It's raining slow romantics

in a daytime nighttime anytime haze

you can rap the blues

if you wear soft shoes

because nothing beats the boredom better

than standing in the rain

and getter wetter

and you can dream of the day that you devolve

into a puddle

or a poet

or a soft, bouncy piece of rubber

as you know, we are all evolving into plastic

It's pouring slow romantics

nine days out of ten, they're out of sight

but when they kiss the sky,

they come dancing down

nice, he says,

an interesting concept

but then, it's never too late to become an obedient dog

don't you think?

- June 13, 1985, A.D.

Poetry: 100% Pure Beef (or Vice-Versa)

Poetry:

100% pure beef

or vice-versa

raw:

she used to eat paper with expression

but

she was too young to get 

the punchline

rare:

a little brown on the edges

but chewy, and hard to digest

she tried the A-1 sauce,

but it dribbled over the sides

with determination,

she continued to cook

medium:

it was a cold January day

full of yearning

and desire

she was pushed over the edge --

she kept going

but still a little red on the inside

medium-well:

time for the barbeque sauce

remember, when in doubt,

always check the roots

abstract, cooking deep within the outer crust

beyond what can be seen

she continues

more slowly, now

more carefully

well done:

why,

thank you.

- May 26, 1985, A.D.

What's Felt

What's felt

is known

and proven

More destiny than plan

Take it slow

it will last forever -- 

some way or another

not always good,

perhaps,

but sometimes 

better

Innocent,

but overwhelming,

desires

suddenly, it all came together

in your mind;

I really meant it

and there I was

Proven

in soft contact

your heart is racing

I really mean it

you should never have to question

When I'm gone,

it will still be there

it's shorter than we think until --

hold on to that heartbeat

it speaks rightly

there are no deceptions

as we -

separate -

in time

only the heartbeat

don't ever seek more

Fluid time:

my next day

is the day with you

what matters here

is only a dream

it means something,

but I can't say what

it will be gone tomorrow

Tomorrow,

I'm flying like never before

my journey is just beginning

it's going to be good

and I'd like you to join me

at least for a while

It's waiting

Hush

How well it was known

before

seen, but deeply within

one view for each mind

merging in time

to one view to share

one feeling that binds us

never the same in both minds

but the single,

solitary heartbeat

will sustain the truth

It's nothing

and it's everything

it is also something

but don't confuse

what is born of the stars

with the laws

of the earth

all that is

is among the heartbeats

rules and obligations

will only stop the pulse

Love?

Yes, universally

Here?

don't know

I cannot say, yet

I have always known

and never known

love

There is no time

between the meetings

progress is fast

although spaced

by weeks

by clock

and calendar

it does not change us

I think I know how you feel

so obvious how it is with me

too easy

too good,

but meant to be

I'm not the only one who feels

you must deserve this happiness

For me?

I pessimize

what I deserve

is hope returned

perhaps it's the same light

we're searching for,

still

It's deep, this feeling

not easily broken

it's held firmly in the heartbeat

it belongs to you of its own free will

take care with it

it can enhance you

relax, content

and wait

tomorrow is today

where

what's felt 

is known

and proven

- May 20, 1985, A.D.

Remembering 1985

Steps to knowing a person

Acknowledged Stranger:

see her

realize that you've never seen or noticed her before

notice any unique physical traits

think about that person (ex: what's her name?  how old is she?)

observe things that she does

acknowledge her in the future as someone you've seen before

find out her name

determine why you find that person interesting

develop theories about what she's like

begin to think about her outside of the times that she is around

Beginning of Fusion:

find yourself in the same group of people as she

remark to something she says or does/ she remarks to something you say or do

be introduced

hold a conversation

speak to each other in the future

Become Acquaintances:

refer or speak to her using her name

develop an idea of her personality

see her again in a different situation

after having seen her under a different light, alter your interpretation of her personality to adapt to this new view

listen to others talk about her

apply others' views to your own

"test" those views by studying the person

come to conclusions about the others' views

ask her questions about herself/ she asks questions about you

Become Friends:

care about her

get to know her bad points

learn to accept those bad points

become comfortable meeting and talking to her at social events

become comfortable being alone with her

feel secure speaking to her while she is among her own friends

realize the things you both have in common

be content with your relationship as it stands

Hang Out Together:

go out of your way to call or see her

invite each other places

speak of her to others as a friend

think of her whenever in the mood to do something

begin to discuss deeper subjects with her

offer her your time if she requests it

your image of her is based more and more on what she tells you of herself, not what you see

Good Friends:

one finally deeply confides in the other

conflicts (ex: personality, ideological) arise, but are overcome

one comes to expect certain things of the other

a definite bond becomes evident

you and she are seen together often

any secrets, if known of, begin to be resented

openness becomes necessary for the sustenance of the relationship

you can honestly state your opinion of her to her

you feel comfortable saying almost anything to her

you come to a point where you would feel very empty if you were to ever lose her

perhaps there are some psychic transactions

two almost, but not completely, become one

- May 11, 1985, A.D.

[From 2009:  I just have to comment on this one.  I have no idea why I wrote this, and so it fascinates me.  Was it because I was taking sociology at the time?  Is it just another reminder of my inner obsessive geek?  Is there something I was trying to figure out here, or did I just happen to have a lot of extra time on my hands, that day?  I don't know.  Does it mean anything?]