Wednesday, April 26, 2006

writing the night

there is work

to be done

but I have not

the patience or

the focus for it


in my head

I retreat

to the days of

the music and the bic

and the spiral notebook


so many years

yellowed in candlelight

the words that gushed

and flowed to the old songs

with so much force


I could hardly capture them

now are choked

and stuttered

and micro-managed


I am that girl, but not

now a loose-skinned woman

decades beyond the words

and the heart and the need


but the heart still beats

the need remains

the words still come

more slowly

but not less urgently



  1. A perfect image of aging--our once-tight, um, skins now loosened, our once-loose, flowing thoughts now slowed, yet we are still at the core those passionate girls, but not.  Sometimes I feel like that 12-year masquerading as a grown-up, but do I really remember her?  I hope you still have those spiral notebooks; what a magic doorway into the you of the past.  It makes me want to start journals now to re-read when I'm in my 80s (if....).  Alphawoman was writing about a moment sparking an old memory and then I come over to your poem.  It's like a collage.  I love that you are now interspersing verse with your prose entries.  Hope you're having a sunny weekend.

  2. Tonight I was standing in the grocery aisle and the muzak was playing give you all i got to give if you say you love me too may not have a lot to give what i got i'll give to you i don't care too much for money money can't buy me love and i was that girl again

  3.     Yes, Lisa ... you nailed it, my friend.  My sentiments, exactly.  But you've said it better than I could.  Tina