I had a present for you
and a special place to go.
I had enthusiasm
and a fresh shave
and a lucky shirt
I hadn’t worn in quite some time.
I was prepared.
I was excited.
I was giddy
and it didn’t work out.
Something came up,
I understand.
I know how the world works
and how priorities trump me.
I just want you to know
I was prepared
and I had presents
– but that’s all in the past.
I was looking for inspiration today
something to write about
and I found myself wanting
when I heard about the death
too soon
and I found myself
with something to say.
Thank you then
Nelson
for dying
and thank you
Lord
for killing
and thank you
blood sucking press
for informing us all
oh so quickly.
Death follows us all
and I am glad
to be able to remember that
on a day
when I was so low on inspiration.
Hello
I hope you are doing well.
I have just experienced a loss.
Please excuse me
while I feel.
It may take me
some time
to get over this
so if you can give me
a few minutes
I would appreciate it.
In that time
I do not need any comfort
or cliches
or good wishes of tough love.
I just need the time
alone
to get my bearings.
Afterwards I shall
be able to resume responsibilities
but for now,
those minutes
please?
I wrote “17 Days”
about resurrection from depression
as a pastiche of “Nothing Compares 2 U”
and “17 Days,”
both written by Prince.
I have written others poems
inspired by the man
but the first
was perhaps the best.
I also built an ideology
based on his existence:
never make plans
lest you’re unavailable
if Prince calls you up to jam.
If you ever wanted to hang with me
but never got the chance
you may well have Prince Rogers to thank.
I have taken so much
from the man
just as he
has gotten so much appreciation
from me.
Part of that particular relationship
might have ended now:
he may have nothing new
to offer
but I still have so much more
thanks to give.
There are shades
you cannot imagine
that you’ve never experienced
or your eye just can’t discern.
There are things
beyond you
and me
and humanity
like a dog whistle
or a bottom feeder
or the planet Glooki 9.
There are the ephemeral
the sublime
the indescribable
that we will never understand
and asking “why”
is like asking “when”
or “forty two?”
The answers
are just as useless.
I owe you a certain sort of apology.
I spent so much time
finding places to show you
of my New York
but they were not truly New York.
They were instead the New York
I most wanted to show you:
it’s quiet places
the green spaces
where it is hard to see a building
despite being oh so close
to oh so many.
I wanted you to see it
and thought you would like it
but you are not from the city
and naturally proved more interested
in the bustling hustlers
and streetwise seamstresses
than the isolated
solitary lonely locales I adore.
I should not have been so disappointed
by your desires.
I should have known
where to take you.
I was saddened
that the city you sought
was not the one I wanted to display.
I behaved poorly and
I do not imagine
it will happen again.
Well
you did it.
It took patience
endurance and
not a little bit of tolerance
but you did it:
you fed the birds.
You got them
to eat out of your metaphorical hand.
Researching the quantity
the quality
the content and location
definitely yielded the desired results
and how.
I didn’t think you had it in you.
Rather
I didn’t think it could be done
by you
or anyone.
It seemed to me
there were no birds interested in feeding
at your aerie.
I was wrong
you were right.
You have won
and now
have earned the right
to regularly clean your home
of all the bird shit you can stand.
It’s late.
I’m awake.
You’re not.
I dreamt
I was racing down a quiet road
when just in view
a car crossed ahead of me
illegally
and it appeared
I was rushing towards it
with undue speed.
I tried to brake
or swerve
but it seemed
I was unable
to get away from the imminent explosion
between our vehicles.
I didn’t honk.
I don’t know why.
I cannot say why
it was so important
during this very important time
that my car remained silent
even as it sought to screech safely away
from the crash.
I woke up
before there was an imaginary accident
but I wonder what my dream means
and why
I won’t tell you of it
when you wake up.
We carried my father
to his original home
and left some of him there
so he could forever
be where he came from
but
even as he fell
he began to blow away
leaving him mostly on the wind
and a little on the pants
and only some of the heavier parts
at the intended destination.
Perhaps
that is something like
life itself
but mostly
it is like poor planning.
Look at me.
Look at me!
I’m not the kind of guy
you can take lightly.
I am man
of great accomplishment.
Recently,
I finished off nine in an hour.
Yes,
it’s true.
It is I
who did this thing
who completed this task
who polished off nine
in a single hour.
Nine!
In an hour!
Me!
Indeed
you may touch me
get to know me better
study at my feet
– and ladies,
you may study other things –
but know that it might be dangerous
reckless
to remain too close to me
for who knows
when my next feats will be completed?
When might it be
when I do ten in an hour
or eleven?
It is a lonely life
I’ll now lead
no doubt
one where I must wander
and take what rewards that I can
as across the land
people see me
and speak of what I have done
and what
I might do again.
jonberger 