(two new poems, inspired by "The Dead Poets Society")
[why are] FATHERS [so complicated]
because he's the same as me,
that's why
because he's the same as me we can't look each other in the eye except on
special occasions
because he's the same as me
the slight frown
the preconceived frown
is more than can be shouldered
because it is heavier in the mind
and even heavier in the eye
because he is the same as me
and because i am the same as him
and because we used to know each other so well
looking him in the eye is hard sometimes, because he sees the side
that he kept to the side
and i know, like me
he doubts
and this vicarious life of ours
might never
***************************************************
dead poets society
the outlet -
ITS RIGHT THERE
all i have to do is stick my finger in
- i don't know why i haven't more often,
itd probably help me cry.
electric tears and the cold sting of snow, melting
and sticking
that's what i need.
but catharsis is never enough,
it demands repetition -
in,
and out,
and in again,
as often as possible
That's what makes the electricity
more than a numbness.
You can't have shock without contrast -
You can't have poetry
without commitment -
without electricity,
and water -
the conduit.
Without the outlet, the hole in the wall filled with dust,
latent significance disguised as pocketed darkness -
as an unbridled action
yet to spark.
I'd like to be the first to stand on the desk,
when the time comes.
