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Writing the Stones

February 2, 2011

Now that the month of those small poems is over, I think I am motivated to return now to other ponderings, narratives of my failed mergings, my fantasy romances.

Those short poems were written in 2 places, the coffee shop & my room late at night.  I’d write something in my notebook (I mean, a real paper notebook & Pilot pen) over coffee, sometimes flirting with Suzanne (or the “new” girl Leigh), on my way to work.  Maybe a couple were started in the bar after work, but the ideas come best in the morning, then find their final form at night & I would use my laptop or sometimes the computer at work to post them to this Blog site.  On Saturday & Sunday I could hang out longer over my coffee & the paper, distracted by the busyness & comings & goings.

Somehow these settings, the coffee shop & the bar & my room, didn’t work themselves into the poems, instead I reached back to my affair with Kathryn-Marie, or played on the image/metaphor of “stones,” even culling from the titles of tunes by the Rolling Stones (did you catch my rip-off Warren Zevon in #23?).  The stones became my words, the surf like my existence, wearing my words down to silence.

But for one thing they brought me out of my obsession with K-M (though she is always there somewhere, even in the eyes of Leigh or the breasts of Suzanne).  By the end of the months, the poems had no references to her at all.

But now, as I watch the Weather Channel & CNN about the Winter storms out in the mid-West & the Northeast, I appreciate that I don’t have to shovel fog, that as much as the chill mist might depress me, it is above freezing here.  I can’t tell the sea-breeze on my cheeks from tears, which could’ve been one of the stones.

But then, I wonder, who is out there to read this shit?

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From → Ponderings

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