I believe, I believe
my song
hums like it’s poetry
I believe
the singer
hums like poetry
I’ve been standing in the nick of time for so long
I’ve been waiting like it’s my rainbow
Someday, my song
I believe, I believe
anything
I believe
I just want to talk about myself
I feel October having its way with me again
I smell
the hum
of electricity
I believe
you
are my best friend
Someday, my song
in the nick of time
humming like poetry
8 November 1990
Age 21
Categories: hope · loneliness
Rival flowers
up at all hours
killing time and making plans—
hold out your hands.
Spilling out and
spiraling down,
fragile, cool, and clean.
Trust me.
I trust my instincts:
Paint me gold.
Up at all hours
making plans for profit—
hold up your hands.
Trust me.
I say my prayers
although I don’t believe.
I trust my instincts:
Paint me gold.
23 May 1990
Age 20
Categories: closure · confidence · hope
He’s there on the sidewalk
lathered in his own shock
I’m surprised he can still talk,
pleading, “My love was not a lie!”
Let him die;
let him die.
You may ask me why
I want to let him die.
You see, just years ago
we used to have a show
called “Who Loves Who More
(and Who Won’t Try).”
I was such a newbie;
he knew I’d work for free.
He said, “Say goodnight, Gracie.”
I said goodnight to me.
So let him die.
Let him die.
You say let him try,
but if he doesn’t, let him die.
Yes, when he doesn’t, let him die.
When he’s laid out on the slab,
finally time to call a cab,
I’ll briefly lose my gift of gab—
my love was not a lie.
I’d love to stay, but I can’t;
Use my coat to prop his head, but let him die.
You can do what you want,
but I’m going to let him die.
16 January 1994
Age 23
[Note: This one goes out to the one with high ideals. You, perhaps?]
As cold as looking back
You feel once more
Standing stripped for the first time
Like a sculpture cast in blue light
Can you see the flame?
Can you feel the heat from the flame?
Do you know how rich the fire will burn?
A million people born
Cities from dust
You become entangled, but
Never pulled into the machine
Still you see the flame
And you feel the heat from the flame
Do you know how rich the fire will burn?
Softly whispered pain
Tugs at your collar
Standing frozen in the blue light
Standing like a sculpture cast in stone
So cold from looking back
Watch the flickering flame
Lost in the blue light
7 October 1987
Age 18
