Words That Never End

I can only imagine what you thought of me

Some strange, affected blogger bloke

Chiming in from desolate-hunger side of restoration-resentment

On your site of doll curiosity.

This strange, wanna-be-artist-person-poet-thing

Embarrassingly awkward striking out

Thinking there was something for me in the public sphere of popularity. 

Ha!

They say meeting your heroes should not be done

Writing your hero’s, taking on their guises, finding your own guises

I found some. 

Questioning with strong, egotistical manner, combating and confounding the conversation together.

Can I say embarrassment? –but something so crazy-insane,

Crafting a relationship beyond measure and time and space.

(Only because you were willing to do it, respond that is. 

And I was willing to write back upon that response with another kitschy sonnet, cybernetic prose or maudlin diatribe.)

I can be the clown! 

I can be the one throwing whatever expectant words at the wall

To see what sticks for me, and then years later, for you.

Back then I held resentment and a sage bush smoldering a reckoning

Because I barely had three months sober.

Back then I was barely able to work it out on a page

Without falling flat on my face

I still do.

Fall flat on my face, that is, but this time,

I revise!

I plot and plan and write on through stumbling, tumbling times

To come out on the other side of the clean, clear mountainside.

Now I have a Master of Arts degree!  Ah-ha!

That means something, doesn’t it?

I’m left with a bitter stroke, a limp hand, perhaps,

Because connection can’t happen with them, only you

You gots the stronger ones, you’re all the stronger

(and smarter)

For taking hold with those powerful fingers and doing what you do!

What is real

What is read

What you saw

What you used for inspiration

Does it matter?

Only as the vortex needs it

Eats it whole

Sings it out with a brilliant sort of golden light through you!

(I’ve learned to handle glacial winds that blow

I’ve learned to have peace with knowing

This conversation is ongoing

And something strangely ethereal,

Beyond what any in-person chat would do.)

What could I say that hasn’t been said?

What could I write that hasn’t been haplessly blundered?

With one quick note, you suck my spirit in

Singing songs of sorrow, songs with ignition and then

With that same note, I’ve heard you’re in the neighborhood again

Popping up on my feed

Fanning it up, laying it down, slathering it on

And doing it so well!

But at the same time, I separate.

With one of your notes, I dive into myself

Rediscover myself, discovering to feel my own soul again!

Rediscover poetry, my own poetry again, and what I had back then

Realizing what it was, it was sometimes,

Heartbreaking and breathtaking (I daresay myself,)

Ahem,

Leaking horrific radiation, I’m bright and toxic,

A terrible, strange mess to behold!

--And beautiful!

I’m self-absorbed and I don’t care who knows it!

And still you engulf me

And you’re still YOU

Right there and all over again!

But then,

I must separate myself

And still you sing to me

And I must listen (because your gravity is great)

You’re a celestial being, my dear, and I can’t hope to harness what you have

Riding celebrity like a sonic jet on the stratosphere

Ms. Fantastic,

There for all to see

And Wondrous!

Only what is still,

What is churning within me

I must simply separate myself to find it

And in finding it I found; the only T is me for right now.

Do I know any other—should I?

Only my connection with T.R. and this blogspot and divine inspiration matter,

Truly matter now.

But I still remember your meadows,

I frolic the dew-wet

Star-flower grass in my dreams

--We travel in the same celestial circles –obviously.

Because creation is, is everything for me

The supposed, supposed to be scheme that supports it

Doesn’t suit me quite so much at all!

I’m creating for the pleasure of creation.

Not anything that supports me

Financially

--I declare it now!

So if someone spies it – great!

If someone is inspired –fantastic!

If someone uses it to create super-jet-fueled-hyper-phonic propellant

Fine.

Now I’ve found peace!

And yes, I’ve shut you out to some extent.

(Not entirely though, there are those few moments—but very few!  Siren!)

And in that vacuum, I

I hear the sweet sound of the great mouth of something bigger

Something that holds me so sweetly

And lets me partake

In my own galaxy

For whatever stake, I’ve gone all in

And now created something

Real and new. 

A trilogy and more, so much more

It would lead most mortals to exhaustion the things I plan to write!

Growing on old words

Real and new

Rewriting the old world

Real and new

That one I left there daily with you.  (You remember the one.)

Those sentimental fragments of space and time and debauchery—oh, yes,

Dear one,

They will become whole and burnished and re-written,

Beautiful

And with a denouement

Each one with a denouement and a continuation line

Because they are,

Words that never end

Worlds that never end.

Nor should they.

-thisisaaron