OKay, here are some crappy poems that I only half like. But I still think they're pretty good. People often say that they don't understand my poetry. It's called IMAGERY and IMAGINATION people! I am just trying to get across a feeling, even if it is sort of abstract. On the other hand, most of my poetry is confessional, which I am not proud of. I want to get away from that and write about larger themes but it seems that no matter what I write it all ends up being autobiographical and I think I'm just going to have to live with that for a while. I promise to put up some more poetry and prose and short stories soon, as soon as I dig them out from under my bed or wherever it is that they are hiding.


No Martyr

In spite of all this victimless martyrdom
I remain
the only one slain.

It has hurt me well enough
but I never understood
before

how I let you spin me
of my own cloth.

I was the warp to your woof;
you were always running through me
while I stood, alone,
your ugly tapestry.

With my jute fists I let you weave me
a ragged soul
and never defended
its enduring pain.

I bit the fibers and held them
in my mouth
and forever more will I chew to make them soft.

My gift to you.
My gift to you.

Yet you will consider me burlap
as though it is undeserving
of great love and glory.



Baby's Daddy

I will be finding the good in you
for the rest of my life
extracting it out like thick black oil.
Your demands and your demands
took place the of all of my young-sweet plans.
How you posessed me
and I pretended to be pitiful--
I will spend the rest of my life explaining--
How I tried to be somebody else
How I found its far too expensive to disown yourself
How I spent one too many
afternoons
holding onto a yellow broom
while staring at a doorknob.

Demands beget demands
and now I cannot clean my hands
so I will forever be finding the good in you
looking as hard as I can.