I woke up from a dream this morning that ever-familiar distant ache of longing and loss too present and I'd been dreaming...about? O yea & then it all comes back, and I am on my knees then & I am praying, but not really praying, but doing that deep silent witness thing that I do that is most meditation but also praying bc I am letting it go, all the waves of thoughts and emotions that are scary or wavery or confuse me or make it hard I watch and feel as they move up and out and I let them go. It is a prayer bc I beseeched the Mystery to please, please be w me now. It was the recurring dream space of basement with all the additional rooms that spread out and out and on and on in the underground and there was a party, and all the guys, all of them, all of them were there all the men from when I was wild. And it left me feeling so weird, and confused. We were having fun, in the first place it started in a pool and me asking these old womyn please to show me, cuz no one ever taught me to swim. Then I am out of the pool and kickin it, smiling, so happy to be w all the boys.
After the prayer I am curling my hair and taking my time getting ready bc it's a fake it til you make it kinda day. And then it hits, the words, and the vision, & holy hell it all comes together. This next part of my memoir. Woooohoooo wooohooooo WOOOO HOOOOOOOOOO!!!!
It all sorta hinged on what was in that dream. So anyway, cuz it's connected in a way that at least I understand and bc it's one of the recent styles that the formatting can be copied as is w/out any probs on to my blog, here is part of a poem that came out wayyyyy late the other nite.
Def having to do w the men, from when I was wild.
the city
I
i’m driving w walsh we’re coming down
new york ave right aftr
it turns from hiwy to city,
ol rt 50. nothin on the radio
i start rappin method man:
you’re all that i need i’ll be there for you
keep it real w me
i’ll keep it real w you
lovin your whole skee i’ll be in there boo
on top a that you got the good, power you
& now I’m looking at Checkers
the black & yllw flags & dark yellw
hang lites the crner right there soon as you come in to dwntwn.
i am rmmbrn phil, all you fools, shaeffer & my baby mudd
who seemed bynd it all or skeeved but who cld tell all
yall boys used to front so hard then. you fuckin fools
in the back a brad’s Cherokee toothless blowjobs for 20 bucks.
& we grew up in the brbs.
now, whn i thnk a you
it’s too bad yer gone.
my hearts a bone yrd but
i aint done in thr yet, not
building or done scowling,
i miss you but it’s not
so weird & hard now,
most times i laugh
& rmmbr thse
wld wndrful eyes it makes
me happy jst to be able to
do that
II
rmmbr
that frst nite you wr gone
your grave site.
i rolled arnd like a virgin
shannon moaned. i thnk i
mghtve been w the drnk
bfr i’d quit for good.
the special brew, tht
fruity juice. hold me
close.
r.kelly.
i lied, o god i lied i do
miss you.
the way you used to hold me
in bed. you’re like a bear
a big blck smky smellin
bear. you were my frnd i
lvd you so mch. i cnt blve
ur gone, even
aftr all this time.
IV
circles & tides
my first memory of lew reed is wild side &
i am in 7th grade. there are lollipops on the boards
for sale so large they take up two of my hands &
the spit down the side of my fist. we lick them
up the center that’s what we grls do.
i was smoking cigarettes, had em in my purse.
we stayed downtown in the belmont-hearne it was
the first time i ever stayed in town jess’ mom single
mine too & jess’ curfew way more late than mine
jamie and fran held hands across the driver &
passenger’s seat in the front. jamie the little sister
of jess. i think about jamie a lot more than i do
jess. it’s funny what gone makes you do.
ltr, this becomes a story. it is called peir one.
kevin is in it he is not dead yet but at the end
of the story he cld die. who knows?
the kids in the lit house get angry it’s not neitzche
it’s not even tom robbins. i don’t want trouble
it’s just, look dumbasses. what dya want from me
it’s all that i know.
No comments:
Post a Comment