Monday, December 30, 2013

Twenty Spent (A Poem)

At twenty I found it strange
The way college kids
Would touch each other,
Each eye roll and busy
Intersection kiss
Meaningless advances
In vintage movie theatres,
Over stale popcorn
And self-spiked soda,
As if any mere act
Or aliveness or vitality
Were a forced nerve-strum
To stroke the sleeping
Dreams of sixteen.
As for me, I preferred
The less dramatic approach,
I’d hide the raccoon-shadows
Of my study-weary eyes
Behind book stacks,
Fiction and poetry,
All my early Wednesdays
A library maze of
Rolling footstools and
The heart of me that wound
The beat of itself against
A wire-cage of words,
And the cool, dark hands
Of a South American boy,
His tales of burning villages
And doctoral degrees,
Kissing the inner eye
Of my own dreams,
Teaching me to persevere
Against the set-backs,
The main stream.
His voice a black jet
That flew the isles of my mind,
A carry-weight of my twenties,
The exit sign of an excile,
The kiss that swam

A fishbowl of his new America.


**Written for a prompt at MindLoveMisery.

10 comments:

  1. " As if any mere act
    Or aliveness or vitality
    Were a forced nerve-strum
    To stroke the sleeping
    Dreams of sixteen." I really loved this section! Brilliant work Stacy =) I hope you are enjoying your holidays

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  2. Learning from eachother perhaps?
    Great writing.

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  3. wow...he was quite the companion then...more than just awakening the sex it sounds like how opened plenty of other doors for you as well...

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  4. I think a person can learn from every relationship; and it sounds like this one has lived with you! I like:

    "Kissing the inner eye
    Of my own dreams"

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  5. I love the Anne Sexton quote! This is fantastic writing and I was ready to stand up and cheer when I got to your glorious closing lines. Bravo!

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  6. I specially like this part: Kissing the inner eye
    Of my own dream

    Nice to meet you ~

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  7. Enchanting, honest and artfully expressed - rich writing which I admire.. So will be back for more, for sure... With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com

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  8. I too love the kissing of the inner eye--really a refreshing read!

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  9. I thought it was Che Guevera, what do I know!? My favorite part is the library, hiding with piles of books, rubbing against "a wire cage of words"--and thats where the boy enters with hands, tales, perseverence, and voice. So, ok, it's hot enough to be a physical presence. I twined myself through this poem. Thanks.

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  10. As a teenager i am where you were at twenty, though i haven't found THAT guy yet. I can so relate to this poem.

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Thank you for taking the time to comment, it is so appreciated. Your thoughts and critiques are always welcome! I will be by to visit your blog soon!