Let's give it a shot

3 free posts this week. alright. Of course I have the inclination to throw a few of my poems up. However - supposedly, doing so could preclude them being published. This is a big question for a writer. Do I hold tight to my work and wait for it to be officially recognized in some small, likely unread, perhaps haughty magazine (not that there aren't really good ones out there), or do I, like an acoustic guitarist strumming to his friends through the snowy 2:30am windows/pupils of my embossed night, release it into the air; by all means, trying it out? My answer: the act of writing is already solitary enough, fuck the publishers if they don't want to use it now. If you'll indulge me, here's a new poem of mine, thanks for listening. It takes two people to sing this one. . .


The Gauntlet


I’m not one to draw circles
around the truth,

For half of you,
I’m better than you think – the other half

and as lonely as I get,
I could always

I’m just as good. There’re valleys
where grass grows orange red, swords

get lonelier. . .
What better way

with no sharp ends. These gears miss
their allotted

than to lose myself in you?
But – tell me! – anyone

appointments. But music plays from the sun!
and the rain

actually believe
honesty’s never a stain? I do.

sings songs, love and pain. People
right outside

Even when it
perforates. And isn’t

have nowhere to go, coughing up blood
in a napkin. Bare arms beating, soul chimes

desperation

charms sounds, letters waiting to be received;
trees trembling tears under a hot sun, buses rolling by –

desperate enough? A cold river
which, if pressed into, will

trains taking; ditches dark dusty and smoky centers, unidentified
flying objects. Half-truths

freeze our souls right
upon the oblivion of old age. I’ve

and whole ones – dignity
that need not be validated.

been there, in my own
unique time. Not even for you.