13 October 2009


A lot of these poems become caught up in whatever I was thinking about at the time of writing. In the fall of 2007 I was very dissatisfied with relationships. Romance. Cliched love. I guess I still am, this poem still resonates.

Iftar (10/13)

We hold hands and walk in the park- it becomes a joke
I tire of this back and forth - my feet hurt
It all lost appeal years ago became a must a do

But here we go locking fingers like vines on telephone poles
And we walk in some park near some fountain
We may as well be on a beach - really get those cliches going

I've convinced myself that your eyes were all I've known
That I could swim in them - goddamn that's dull
I don't know how to swim - I scream about floating

Somewhere a field is sighing as winter sets in - without us
A sort of joke I leave unanswered - a field of dying
It all lost its appeal years ago - became a must do

Here take my hand and lets walk counter clock around the park
Instead of clockwise
You know - for a change

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