the first poem i've written in many years (go easy on me)

sweet like rotting fruit

i remember you slicing harry & david pears

in your kitchen and feeding me

one heavenly slice at a time. 

the swish of the knife as you pressed 

through the skin and your thumb

in my mouth as you pushed each piece past my lips.

i remember the shiver down my back

when you kissed me, your own

lips fresh and sweet with pear juice

and craving a pear later that night

when your lips had left mine and

travelled elsewhere.

today i cut into a harry & david pear

and sliced my thumb with the knife.

instinctively i brought it to my lips and sucked,

the taste of warm copper and cold juice

mixing together into a new memory.

sometimes we need to overwrite. sometimes

we need to reminisce. there is no romance

in the taste of blood, but i'll take it

if it means that the next time i bite

into a pear, i won't remember you.

national poetry month

or, why i'm being selfish with my words.

words have always been a big obsession of mine, from clever lyrics to well-wrought prose. i've always considered myself to be a writer, though the forms it has taken have often changed over the years. the first form of writing i really shared with others was poetry, so it definitely holds a very special place with me. some friends of mine have created an annual event in which they share a poem a day in a public forum, and i was invited and agreed to join it. yet, here we are five days into national poetry month, and i've not shared one measly line with them. lame, kid.

the crazy part is that i'm actually writing almost every day, even if it's just a line or two. that's incredibly often, for me. i'm inspired. i keep typing the words into this blog-writing box, and before i can hit "publish" end up transferring them over to my songwriting journals. selfish, i know, that i'm not sharing, especially when i'm writing (at least initially) with that intent. at the end of every day i am back at a blank page. it's a wonderful metaphor, another page in the book of life, but (much as life often is) it's frustrating to me.

overall, i'm creatively sated with the words i'm turning into song. i just hesitate to share them. i know they're not complete without being sung, without melody, and there's no quick and easy way for me to make and share recordings. even if i could (technologically and time-wise), i'm not sure i'd be able to do so just yet. songwriting rubs me raw, exposes all of my vulnerabilities and pulls them to the surface. it's all i can do just to mop up the mess it makes. publishing them at this early stage is akin to sticking the adhesive portion of the band-aid directly on the wound, and then pulling it off mere minutes after you've applied it. if that doesn't conjure an "ow" from you, well... maybe you're tougher than me.

if i do happen to write something that doesn't turn into a song, it will appear [here]. you're welcome to join in and add your own work, even if it's not every day. you'll be in good company... and maybe, someday soon, mine.