ash

another from my 10 year old journal. so interesting to see how differently and yet the same i wrote back when. i was an angry young man.

i lit six slender ponders and thought them all to ash

the languid crash of their blunted bodies

is tragically beautiful in some art house way.

i box my fingers and frame

nah

just six ultra lights without my life in their charred remains.

just lacing my mind with nicotene and sweeping my

"you and i need to talk" away.

i mean how do i know what i want to do?

i lied to myself for thirteen years today.

like i trust it (my mind / my heart even less) with my future.

MY future not YOUR failure.

my current thought rests between my fingers

aflame and ready to be inhaled.

you know i just feel so assailed sometimes.

like what game must i play to quit these

cough-riddled soliloquies of mine?

to make these conversational headaches with you go away?

i stall because you stare

i glance because you glare

i shrug because you couldn't let me care about something else first.

 

look. i'll never let you see the worst that could happen.

 

i dampen my seashell ashtray and flood my doused thoughts with

a little spittle

but you'd rather steam them with your tears.

well go ahead dad

i'm off to drink some beers.

Reviews

[Leah Simone]

This reminded me of how my grandmother described the seduction of smoking - when she was a young woman- she saw a gorgeous sophisticated lady smoking from one of those long filters - very art deco I'm sure - and the coy way her lips kissed the pipelike filter was like whispering a secret to a lover and all the woman's worries seemed to billow out of the other end like ghostribbons of dead concerns no longer able to haunt her - and this poem reminded me of that image.

I wasn't expecting the ending to be your father - it seemed so sexy up until that point and I know now I was imposing my vision of what my grandmother told me onto your work. After reading again - the line that stood out the most was: I lied myself for thirteen years today - as if a lifetime of lies were compacted into one crystal clear moment that you could put out like a cigarette butt in the ashtray.

Wonderful work - as I've come to expect from you.

[D. Elizabeth]

This one of my favorites that you have written. It's poetically amazing, and each line is perfectly written, especially...just six ultra lights without my life in their charred remains.

just lacing my mind with nicotene and sweeping my

"you and i need to talk" away.

I am so very jealous of you right now. But glad that I had the oppertunity to read so an amazing piece of art. xo -D.E.