i have made at least three people cry reading this. i know this is a hard poem, and i have tried to brush this fact off by introducing it with a very plathlike understatement of, ‘this one is just a little love poem,’ at readings. but in honesty, this is really difficult, it’s essentially romanticizing suicide. and that’s not an acceptable idea, though we see it in literature throughout history. pyramus and thisbe each kill themselves by the same sword out of love for one another. but i’m missing context here, and that is because i hate context. i like slices, slivers, moments in time. the reader will establish their own context, their own backstory, or else they won’t and they’ll just think i’m some insane asshole. anyway the whole idea fascinates me, a love so strong that the absolute most important thing is to die together, whatever the surrounding situation may be. this one is still a bit hard even for me to read, but it’s certainly my favorite of my older works.

this was a very real&hellips; i mean, i was never murdered at a gas station, but i had a very strange foreboding feeling, almost the experience of a premonition, as i was fueling up once. at the time i wrote this, i did indeed drive a red four-door, a 1989 saab 900 in imola red. anyway it was one of those very emotive moments that pushes a feeling deep inside of a person, and i was able to draw this out of that. i’m still pretty pleased with it. i think i did a good job pacing it, and the title as introduction works for me.

sexy time! this one still works pretty well for me. it is, of course, a bit sexual, and it is, of course, disgustingly romantic on top of that. i think i took good control over my words here, the overall sound and rhythm of this still pleases me years after. the title is successful as an establishing element, though it is also unfortunately a direct reference to a (now-)former anniversary.

one of my more sexual pieces from the past, laced with unrealistic romanticism. i simply cannot help but love love, such is my lot in life, i’m afraid. this one relies on some weird imagery, and i guess that’s okay, because it’s surrounded by very accessible and much more poignant imagery. if you get the references, fine, but if you don’t i think it still holds up. i’m not sure how much i like that approach, some of my pieces rely fairly heavily on jargon, simply because i am very strict about the precision of my words. and my attitude has always been, well if it doesn’t make sense, look it up. and if it does, i think there’s a deeper connection between writer and audience. but when it’s watered down like this, i don’t know. anyway i still like this pretty well. though i don’t know much about kittens giggling.

this one is untitled, which is astoundingly rare to me and suggests i never actually got it to a point where i considered it finished, or finished enough to be canonical. it’s got a couple of things going for it – it’s a metapoem, which definitely became a big part of my writing around this time. or, at the very least, a thing that i was very willing to play with. it’s also a love poem, a sickeningly sweet vomit of my emotional immaturity cum hopeless romanticism. it’s short, it’s untitled, and for whatever reason, i still think it’s worth clinging to.

this piece i still rather enjoy. it’s quick. not just short, it has a fast pace to it, and i’m happy that i was able to control that. it’s just kind of silly and playful, in contrast to a lot of my work. but it’s also rather cynical, i suppose, and that’s very much me. it’s sort of about love, but not in my typical grasping, emotionally immature voice. i guess because it’s about failure. and to me, finding success in love is rather unrealistic, and my more ‘romantic’ pieces are thus quite fantasies. this is also a metapoem, although that’s less the point of it than many of my pieces from the time. but it is unavoidably aware of itself, wrapped up nicely at the end. though it’s more playful than i can imagine myself being right now, i’m still pleased with this older piece.

this is another old piece that hasn’t aged particularly well in my mind, but one that i’m still mostly comfortable hanging on to. the gimmick of the words elongated by the triple ‘e’s shows an embarrassing immaturity and lack of restraint. the images make no sense together. but it was well received by my peers at the time, for whatever reason, and i think it probably marks the start of a few recurring themes for me&hellips; it’s not confessional per se, but it is approaching that more than my previous work had. it’s also one of my first metapoems, a theme that continues to play out at times when writing occupies my mind more than most things, and therefore starts to also occupy my writing more than&hellips; well, more than makes sense. it’s also one of my earlier pieces to really play with the title instead of just slapping something on.

this is a piece from when i was in community college. i was asked to read it at a women’s event of some sort, and then asked not to. over concerns of offending the audience, over legal concerns, whatever. at the last minute i was basically told ‘fuck it,’ and ended up reading it. it went over well enough. as far as my older work is concerned, this is probably my least favorite that i am willing to hold on to as canon. it’s gimmicky, it’s from a time when i had little control over my gimmicks. it’s also very much before what i would describe as my confessional period. but it has sentimental value, i suppose, and i still believe in the message. natural beauty for life!