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203 · Jan 2020
The Exchange
will19008 Jan 2020
The Question
Just out of curiosity:
How do you picture your perfect life?


The Reply
I gave this a lot of thought last night
I guess in the most basic sense:

everyone I love is near me
If so, check that box next to "Perfect."  And in the most basic sense, then, I'm very happy for you...
202 · Jun 2019
F LOM!
will19008 Jun 2019
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My computer wrote this all by itself... Stupid, I know, but I can't help but like it!
201 · Jun 2019
prayer
will19008 Jun 2019
you pray for your sister
so sorry in your wise heart
a sister: her smile, her love
but, unhappily, her lost
warmth for family
I miss my sister very much.
will19008 Jun 2019
face and hands of an angel
surrounded in black
beneath your umbrella burns
a cigarette ash
the roadies all working, rain
flows cross the stage
in the twilight of the mountains
are you showing your age?

Big Star, do you
do you remember the times
when you did your own sound checks
and you didn't mind
tuning your Martin and
testing the mike
and you almost felt like
a big star

a lone girl in the rainfall
at the foot of the stage
in her eyes burns the fire
you once had at her age
she opened her act long
before all the stars
and she stares up and dreams
that she might go just as far

so, Little Star, don't you let
that fire go out
keep writing and playing and
traveling about
there was a time when that Big Star
once stood in your shoes
and remembers the years she spent
paying her dues

and, Big Star, please glance past
the glare of the lights
you might see someone who
someday just might
be standing in her own Big Star shoes—
an overnight sensation
many years in the making
riding the buses and
enduring the same frustration as you—
all to become a big star
just like you
Conceived while standing in the rain at the foot of the outdoor stage next to Cosy Sheridan, watching Nanci Griffith readying to perform one Sunday evening in monsoon-like Estes Park, Colorado.
186 · May 2019
Ennui # 8
will19008 May 2019
4/14:
Taking notes;
Contributed to class;
Playing with pen;
Pen in his mouth
(in the corner);
Feet flat on floor;
Leans on his elbow;
Bounces pen off the side of his face;
Appeared to doodle briefly at points
Notes on a fellow student, Scott, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
186 · Jun 2019
condemned hearts
will19008 Jun 2019
nervously knowing,
remembering the reasons
our cruel ghosts do not pass completely
because they reveal something of lost hearts,
something of all the feelings you brought,
friendship to a weathered soul

condemned people,
we curse these anonymous ghosts
always so dilute and cruel, yet again
they must be revealed: friendship, always second,
our condemned hearts nervously analyzing
these losses that must be forgotten
185 · Jun 2019
a touch of your passion
will19008 Jun 2019
I can still feel your fists on me
beating me, pounding on my chest
screaming until you collapse into my arms
and the violence
dissolves into tears

I can still feel those tears on me
wetting me, falling to my skin
crying until, at last through swollen eyes,
you can see I know the
pain of all your fears

I can still feel your lips on me
tenderly, your touch upon my skin
warming me like the sun heats the rocks
dancing as I feel
your soft caress

a touch of your passion
what I seem to require
a touch of your passion
the intensity of love
that evokes
my desire
180 · May 2019
Ennui # 2
will19008 May 2019
3/10.
Looks around very little.
Moves very little, maybe
just to scratch or stretch.
Looks at speaker without
changing expression
ever.
Usually returns to same body
position started at several times
during class.
Every day
so far.
Notes on a fellow student, Gail, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
179 · Apr 2020
I tried a calculator
will19008 Apr 2020
I tried a calculator
to determine just how many
times I've thought of you
over these neglected years

After a few hours it just
laughed at me: ERROR
I had to laugh as well
The ****** thing was right
177 · May 2019
A Quiet Armageddon
will19008 May 2019
You say you don't want to nag
but I really think you do, Mom
You've always tried to live my life for me
My college days have come and gone so quickly
and now it's time for you
to set me free

Mistakes were something you just
never could accept, Mom
from my father, or my brother, or from me
Sometimes you made my life a living hell, Mom
but that's something you would never
let yourself see

   And now the time is drawing near
   for me to go away
   I really hope I'll find myself
   missing you
   But I'm so weary of being seen and never heard, Mom
   now it's time for me to start a life
   without you

Did you know I always needed your affection?
Do you know what it always
would have meant to me?
I thought I'd get it if I could reach perfection
and I walked through hell before
I found it couldn't be

Well, I guess your mistakes were
always made out of love, Mom
I can't believe you really meant to hurt me
and it's sad that you never really knew you did
Still, I just always wanted your love, Mom
not your sympathy

   And now the time is drawing near
   for me to go away
   I really hope I'll find myself
   missing you
   But I'm so weary of being seen and never heard, Mom
   now it's time for me to start a life
   without you
a gentle history of time with jennifer
176 · May 2019
Ennui # 5
will19008 May 2019
3/21.
Smiling
Fiddling with her pen!
(as it lay on her notebook)
Always sits with ankles crossed
She stretches!
Eyes dart
head turns
and always faces the speaker
and for the most part watches
the speaker's face but
her eyes still dart around.
Notes on a fellow student, Gail, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
175 · Jul 2019
Sweet Change
will19008 Jul 2019
We trace the burden of the heart, you and I
And suffer the cold darkness together
A weary gray moon labors across the night
As we worship the seasons of our love

Time must hold its cold pen apart from regret
For a dream to write a better image
Take this sweet change and show the stars
Let your gentle dust touch my sleep
175 · Jul 2019
merging, striving, changing
will19008 Jul 2019
I can’t promise you anything better
No, my concern toward old roles,
negative behaviors, is now leaving
My positive emotions are merging,
striving, changing—an act of will
I've withdrawn at last
                                                        Trul­y complete
               Deserving, needing, just one unbroken
            person—one realizing hostile situations,
            writing journals with different messages
          How sorry to know that everything I had
     relied on all of my acutely unhappy changes
         Now: Engage anything, but need nothing!
Broken relationships can engender real, positive change, despite the pain...
will19008 Jan 2020
Drive
Someday alive
Someday I’ll find terrific
     love, crap, courage
even though
even though
     Could have
         used a Human author
who understands Poetry crap stuff
Could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry crap stuff
Driving alone,
    confused
Someone called
    the words
          Someone didn’t call you
Someday
happily becoming
    a used Human author
          understanding Poetry crap stuff
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice flower arrangement
Drive:
    first Pretty Big nice funny arrangements
Someday alive
    someday, Friends, available
             finding terrific love
Absolutely we could have used a Human author
    who understands Poetry
Absolutely I could have used a Human author
    understanding Poetry crap stuff
Fall
      day,
Keep
      reading
Find
terrific
love:

      Drive
174 · Jul 2019
trust and love indeed
will19008 Jul 2019
True friends trust and love indeed
while lovers think too much and bleed
Their love ends in a graceless Hell
spoiled by thinking none too well
Fooling around with the idea that love ends when it begins to be governed by the head, rather than the heart, I wrote this corny little poem.  I'm not sure that I like it, but I guess I do.
171 · May 2019
Ennui # 9
will19008 May 2019
4/16.
No Scott.
Notes on a fellow student, Scott, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
168 · Jun 2019
Metameric Lament
will19008 Jun 2019
*******, myself
I choose ******* myself
many small ******* to keep
that feeling of something engorged
always for myself

seminal pleasures gained
in each pocket used, spectral, every turn
touch memories and pieces of feelings
without destroying me, or
seemingly so

*******.
I think I still ache simply because
I'm always keeping someone, myself
in every other pocket, every outlet
fed with blue contrivance

precious kisses
hungry kisses aching for someone
to touch this last torn and weary pocket, trying
the warmth of my skin, something so easy
soothing the cool segments inside

someone asking for art
studying art, feeling art, then doing art
wanting, choosing, and finally clutching
this one last small myth
of who I am
166 · May 2019
Ennui # 1
will19008 May 2019
3/5.
Gail:
looks at speaker
expressionless
unmoving
Notes on a fellow student, Gail, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
165 · May 2019
Ennui # 4
will19008 May 2019
3/14.
no gail
Notes on a fellow student, Gail, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
164 · May 2019
Ennui # 10
will19008 May 2019
4/21.
Watching others take notes.
Staring into space.
Looks at the speaker if he or she
   is in a comfortable line of sight.
Averts his eyes away from the person
   he's speaking to at first.
Doodles.
Notes on a fellow student, Scott, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
will19008 Jul 2019
dangerous longing forgotten
a solitary vulnerable blur waits
gazing in miserable drunken sunlight
totally forgiving television for
its absolute ignorance

our weeping battles witnessed
bursting disappointment released
amid the blackness of a pavement meal;
highway edges remain, revealing
mother's particular trigger

dim melodies surrounding sighs
****** afternoons catching clouds
police greet the scene with delight
sitting mum; here's the hollow
definition of goodbye
will19008 Jun 2019
pouring water in the desert

blue from lack of air—my heart

collapsed under all the wait

now I see everything again
161 · Jun 2019
800 Miles Away
will19008 Jun 2019
snowflakes spin in the frozen air
the winter sky turns ashen gray
footprints quickly fill with snow
I can almost hear the gentle sound
of your music box beginning to play
sleet clicks and shatters on the windowpane
     and you're eight-hundred miles away

do you know how I long to hold you
to have your kisses warm the night
and your stunning laughter fill my day
no matter how I try, it's hard to know
yeah, it's an awfully heavy load because
     you're eight-hundred miles away

time and distance might conspire
to steal your love away
time is something I just can't fight
nor the fact that you're so far away
when the night wind sighs and there's no one there
it never helps for me to know
     that you're eight-hundred miles away
Time passes (25 years!), people move, distances change... It's now 940 miles according to Google Maps.  It would still be nice to see her...
157 · Jul 2019
these rusted dreams
will19008 Jul 2019
The pages fade, they’re getting worn
yellowed papers creased and torn
Yet they still can take me to a world
I now can only dream of

Once I saw the future in your eyes
and I saw in it both you and me
Now there’s nothing left to see
simply things left to only dream of

You’ve always shown yourself to me
then turned and shown me to myself
But I’m not the man I tried to be
just a man I must have dreamed of

So now I find I’m looking past
the looking-glass held in your hands
Are you the girl I knew at all?
Did I really only dream you?

I pray that you’ll hold fast to your dreams
even when there's pleasure mixed with pain
Please don’t let them get away
becoming something that you'll say that
        you'd never dreamed of
I have never ever been satisfied with this, but years of tweaking (but mostly just disappointment) has never made it something I'm proud of.  Here it is, though, warts and all...
157 · Jul 2019
a foul haven fled
will19008 Jul 2019
the foggy old *******
with all his naughty noises
and unfinished alley nectar
that relentless cement grind
drifting garbage
aromas pulsing
stench ablaze
****** poisoned crumpled clenched
choked scratched crashed splashed
a parting heartbeat
angelic sweating
all illness forgiven
unconditionally
and finally silence emerges
Thinking about the unfortunate homeless, the mentally ill with nowhere to turn, the veterans on the streets unable to re-adjust... and thinking about how many people in our society--and our government--don't want to see or hear them.
156 · May 2020
sexual skies
will19008 May 2020
innocent blood
of our real
darkness

loving rooms
and ******
skies
156 · Jul 2019
you carry a hungry heart
will19008 Jul 2019
You carry a hungry heart
outside without help
Divine, burning windows
behind locks, beside sad smiles
that devour the fine light air:
They’re perfect warmth

Oh, rise breeze, cry forever
Whisper soft, hopeful comfort
Open that same courageous list
of autumn-worn memories
Mine flex—
break!—under lost words
into bitterly different sounds

Soar inside the space there
Pass the sleepy crimson trees
insatiable delight, flying wonders
beautiful labors, racing the midnight
yet shaping only sore dawns because
I overlooked my lasting desire

Draw new recovery with me
in other ripe and formal strokes
Golden water tumbling down
lifting bubbles, trying to comment
whenever that same message listens
and always winks this time of year

Yesterday’s door, so up-to-date
Why chance a giggle, merely
to forget, a chance to lean on that glass
and borrow those three paper lines—
straight from where we’d dropped off—
as if their call might later amaze us
156 · Jul 2019
100 [proof] Blessings
will19008 Jul 2019
tapping foolishly stiff drinks
at his occasional solitary parties,
buzzing bliss and hazy slumber hide
amid open-minded laughs, rhymes
and fully overwhelmed sensations

now a useless invisible creature
wasting wisdom to the ****** core
his blurred remaining human pride
heartlessly bruises his memories,
and roams the depths of his pain
Considering the propensity of some people in pain to discover solace [and amnesia] inside of a bottle.
152 · Apr 2020
two tantalizing meters
will19008 Apr 2020
social distancing
stay-at-home orders...
the world is finally
getting in line
with me
It took a pandemic to make my lifestyle popular...
151 · Jun 2019
if only in her fantasies
will19008 Jun 2019
A country girl who likes to dream
and in her mind she’s going places
     she’s never been
and where it looks to me that she may
     never get the chance to be

A country girl who likes simple things
she’s trapped inside of a circle called
     a wedding ring
and so she reaches out to me
     if only in her fantasies

A country girl who just wants some security
that she knows she could never
     have with me
but still she reaches out to me
     if only in her fantasies

Because she’s the one that her family counts on
     She’s the one that everyone likes
And she must always remember who she is
     even when she’s dreaming of
     me at night

She could never tell anyone
that in the hours before the sunrise
     she dreamed of
     me at night

A country girl who’s waiting for the day
when she can finally spend some
     time with me
And although it may never be that way
I know she’ll be reaching
     out to me
If only for the moment and
     if only in her fantasies
Written for Kathy who must always remember who she is: The one that everyone likes.  I miss her.
150 · Jul 2019
notes on children
will19008 Jul 2019
interact verbally
conceive ideas together
learn to work in a group setting
learn to verbalize their own ideas
respect the contributions of others
discover creative relationships
among ideas
Written in my EDE352 notebook, Spring 1980, as I prepared myself for becoming a teacher.
148 · May 2019
Ennui # 7
will19008 May 2019
3/26.
Gail:
Still the same;
caught her noting something
about either
Theresa or
Mary.
Notes on a fellow student, Gail, during another exceedingly boring Self and Group Processes class, Spring 1980. A small group class, we sat in a circle with our notebooks and readings discussing intra- and interpersonal processes.
147 · Jul 2019
тоска
will19008 Jul 2019
When one's life begins to sour
how is it not the nature of humans
to at least consider the secret
flavor of death?
146 · Jun 2019
satisfaction served cold
will19008 Jun 2019
my own simple art:
I, myself, destroying kisses,
conversation, *******, thoughts
and promises built to make history

fed on cold satisfaction
gorged and happy (oh, what *******!)
I, myself, do without relationships
and ache without these things
145 · Jun 2019
Losing a Friend
will19008 Jun 2019
I'll never lose the gift you gave to me
a life that makes living worthwhile
and though it hurts me to know
I somehow let you down
the memory of you still makes me smile
Oh, it hurts—
but I manage a smile

Unfolding your letters to silently read
of the easy and hard times we knew
sometimes they can make me
believe that I could cry
although that's something I no longer do
Oh, it hurts—
but I can't cry for you

At night here by the lake
you know I find my peace
on this bench by the water's dark edge
and lately I've had time
to finally realize
that losing a lover never hurt
like losing a friend
143 · Jul 2019
wholly betaken (anamnesis)
will19008 Jul 2019
not wholly betaken
as a person, disgusted
forever expecting
and drinking the poison

not wholly betaken
a dead-perfect graveyard
of memory, of sun
and of promises soiled

nothing was waiting
no, nothing was worth it
nothing, no
nothing
—no other things

yet no other person
could ever have been
so wholly betaken
or so it seems

no, no, no—no!
not so wholly betaken, no
never, not ever
so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
     so wholly betaken
never, not ever
     so wholly betaken as I
Sometimes when love has gone there is that overwhelming feeling of such colossal stupidity...
142 · Jun 2019
Chapter 23
will19008 Jun 2019
Florida was warm to her in the morning
the conversation skipped, false reason
called to her, almost got her, pulling her
loving heart around for a mere beat

she once was living by half, not often
by love, and she slipped out of it all so smoothly
out of her cell, creeping out, to be again

the city was telling her, in short, it knew
of the weathered arms that she had once amazed
still clutching once-fresh words grown blue

Florida was soft to her in the morning—
and she was!—a woman for whom you would
wait for three minutes or three hours
for three weeks or three long years
140 · Jul 2019
morning’s fading enemies
will19008 Jul 2019
she'll carry morning’s fading enemies:
a spiritual ruin and swallowed despair

blinding violent piercing stolen sea fires
one's vain movements—sacred, soothing

tortured poets watch cancer drifting past
gently stalking the pink dog-kiss of roses

radio band remorse is hiding stale lessons
gathering inside softly-colored Jesus static
What does a poet do when she hasn't written poems for years and can't feel poetry anymore?
140 · Jun 2019
my instincts realized you
will19008 Jun 2019
my instincts realized you
my movements craved hours
because time, more than pleasure
intertwined with you, your rapture
feeding on my desire
my delight

duvets imprisoned us
dreaming then: sweaty, satisfied
glad you slaughtered me, not the bed
how else to see the situation?
never bothering to
stand all night

accentuated pleasure; wishing
never to awaken, never to exist
you drowned me and dominated me
left me all square from my body
increasingly vulnerable, alone
as free as sleep
will19008 May 2019
I face this gray and solemn light
but still I live, with all my might
And when the days turn long and bright
I think that I would find it nice

I hate this season’s crystal hand
baring trees and freezing land
To have someone who understands
I think that I would find it nice

I track the slippery streets alone
Hope for hope, but I find none
I pray aloud that she’ll come home
I know she’d ease this grip of ice

And I think that I would find it nice
This is a poem that I just found among my college notes, written in autumn, 1979, and now residing on foxed and yellowing college-ruled paper raggedly torn from a spiral bound notebook.  I almost remember writing it... #40years #susan
139 · Feb 2020
nothing, nothing at all
will19008 Feb 2020
Usually I see
     light spilling out from beneath the closed door
Usually I hear
     your breath whispering across the panes of glass
Usually I feel
     your touch even if it's just in my dearest dreams
But this time
     but this time

nothing
     nothing at all
Not unexpected.  It never would have been unexpected.  Yet so strange that at last it's here.  Or do I mean 'not here'?  Hmmmmm...
138 · Mar 2020
again, until next time
will19008 Mar 2020
I write, then
your words appear quickly
almost out of nowhere,
of nowhere that I'm sure,
from no place I'm
certain exists

My handful of shabby
sentences elicit a flood
and your thoughts engulf
me, engage me, suckle
me on hope like a
starving beast

These, our seasons,
always returning to dances
that we know and we do so
unduly well: I will injure
you—without intent—and
you'll withdraw

again,
until next time
137 · Jun 2019
at least, at last, for me
will19008 Jun 2019
images and quotes
I will share with you, at last
at least for me, at last for me
at least, at last, for me

I will express myself to you
just for me, and that's the benefit
for me, at least, right now
at least, at last, for me

I will express myself to hurt you
my words and memory to hurt you
I will share my thoughts, share
all of them, at last, for me

Lastly will I share, at least,
my pain with you, and then, for me,
I will share the slippery things
for me, at least, at last for me
at least, at last, for me
136 · Jun 2019
piece five-one-five
will19008 Jun 2019
they really aren't pieces of any one quilt
regarding one person, say, quite content,
easily content, actually and entirely sure
that certain novel thoughts might be
the diverse scraps of one of us—
perhaps they can comprise us yet

comprehend the larger totality, dear
little value lies in discrete images seen
in a lambent world, contriving to enlarge you,
please you, as if that would interest anyone—
well, there might still be a few—in a strange art
borne far too long, too much of it in pieces
135 · Jul 2019
Untitled (Ideas)
will19008 Jul 2019
ideas,
relevant or not:
record them
Written for Self/Group Processes class, circa April, 1980.
135 · Jul 2019
cut yourself free
will19008 Jul 2019
cut yourself free
it would behoove you completely
it would allow you better than
this rather difficult life

cut yourself free
for you haven’t ever controlled
your bitter frozen little world—
something prevents you

cut yourself free
134 · May 2019
you, entranced
will19008 May 2019
when numbs the autumn wind
I panic, dear
and see the changing light
of pastures and riven houses

solitude meets me yet again
moments change
I change, I without nerve
who once might have onward leapt

but you, entranced
you, who cannot ever be patient
ever longing to meet
now, as in our first garden

flowers, sunbeams, trees
nourished by light and passion
once housed in exaltation
now inert in landlocked slumber

they became an unchanging place
that fits not so easily these days
where time, in its patient receptacle
learns to wait
134 · Jun 2019
you turned away
will19008 Jun 2019
I’m still the man that I was
and I meant all the things
you heard me say

nothing’s changed
I’m no different now than I was
the moment before
you turned away
Reading this now doesn't hurt as much as it used to.
133 · Jun 2019
just a little further
will19008 Jun 2019
an eagle flying
weaving circles in the sky
birds in the trees
begin to whisper words of spring
highway signs
broken white and yellow lines
as I drive, I start to realize
how close I am to
seeing you again

winter’s gone
the snow and ice have melted now
I left my world
beside you in the fall
but now the sky is clear
and I can feel you drawing near
and those long, cold
empty winter days
have finally gone

greening grass
standing cattle on the hillsides
sunshine through old
busted slats of weathered gray
and as I pass by
I imagine the look I’ll see in your eyes
a look that says the
dark days are gone and
all the clouds have
blown away

turnpike tolls
and passing lanes
stand between me
and a warmer time
melting snows and
the birds return again
just a little further
down this highway line
Or is it "farther"...?  Either way, this is the only song lyric I ever wrote while driving a car.  What a beautiful early spring day to cross the mountains in Pennsylvania!
will19008 Jul 2019
my faked dreams
shattered
my stupid mind monsters
woefully
bellow

the nasty bleeding
half-written
bloodstained ******* lines
unfinished
verses

ear-piercing weeping
mournful
failed prose scribbled
pathetically
broken

to touch people’s hearts
wishing—
tears wait in shadows
stories still
unspoken
Thank you, Fawn.
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