Litkicks Message Board Archive

i have so many stories i need to tell

Posted to Poetry




i have so many stories i need to tell
you, stories about visiting hell naked.
stories about the view from
heaven's belief in me.
stories about you and how you entered
my world just at the time when the earth
woke up. stories about smoky hitting the
parking lot with a tire iron. stories about fists
through walls, idyllic dolls being worshipped,
quips of humor regarding brain tumors and such,
metastasized cancers, lunch with friends who were lost,
the costs of living,
the costs o living.

i have so many stories to tell.
i wish i had the time but i'd make time if i thought
you'd read them to yourself at night before you tried
to fall asleep beside the bedside table, laden with unread
books and piled up photos depicting looks from unfair
maidens on the perimeter of an event.

i have so many stories to tell.
i could reinvent them but why bother since they need
no re-creation and i know that if you'd listen, you wouldn't
nod out fainted by boredom or an inordinent amount of
too much information, too much knowledge.

i have so many stories to tell you.
would you like to hear? your ear pressed to my lips
so i can whisper secrets? would you keep them sacred
like yellow roses pressed between pages of dictionary love
or would you indiscreetly repeat them to scientists and scholars,
valiant journalists who need a good headline for a syndication or
would you just skim through like god skimmed through the creation,
each word a beginning, each beginning a word, claiming authorship?

i have so many stories to tell you.
let me know if you're interested in me taking you on a trip
to the Himalayas and various crazed living rooms now dead.
let me know if you'd like to read about yourself
lying in bed with me or whatever lover you'd hoped to see
at the time it happened and i will recreate the passion
of the hour.

i have so many stories to tell you.
but time limitations are soured by repetition,
second hands remark in the dark tick tock lock of
keeping track, the lack of being able to accurately record
and if i told them to you, would you be able to afford
to spend the meaning, recognizing how exceedingly
wise i was to see beneath your lashes,
your eyes like mine, only somewhere else
on another face?

or would you simply trace
the blind spot with your thumb
in an arc around the eclipse of peripheral vision,
as if you could not see what i was trying to tell you
because of your age or something less or more
than that?

i have so many stories to tell you and i cannot wait
to tell them to you but i promised myself i would only do so
once you are ready to hear because i am you just as much
as you wouldn't want me to be and just as much as you wished
i was and i want to be clear about this.
i want to be clear.

i have so many stories to tell you.
i want to hear yours. do you remember the time
i was so blind i thought yours were mine and do you
remember the time i was paralyzed by not being
able to speak, each cheap annotation of my voice
like a moist wind somehow sinking into doesn't matter
and does and do you want to remember the memory
of tomorrow when i had already told you of the stories
i meant to say today?

i have so many
stories to tell you.
which way
would you
like to hear them?

through your voice or through my ears? through the course
of meals, salad first, dessert last, cast off dreams in exchange
for daily routines or would you rather i told you my stories later
while you create yours with me?
the costs of living,
the costs o living.


2.15.2004 - dp