Kevin's Watch

I wrote this a while ago, but thought I'd see if it was fit for public consumption:

Little Bits

She said, “What do you want?”
(What do I want?)
(What do I want.)

I said, “What do I want? Look at me, look at you…”
“What do you think I want?”

But I was just hedging my bets

She said, “What do you want?”
(What do I want?)
(What do I want.)

And I said, “Why do you ask?”
“Because when people ask what I want, they’re usually
Fishing for a compliment.”

(She says that compliments are always welcome.)

But I was just hedging my bets

She said, “What do you want?”
(What do I want?)
(What do I want.)

And I said:

I want to take a weeks vacation, and I want you to take one, too
I want to follow you up the stairs to an empty room
I want to follow you upstairs to that empty room

Follow you

Just because I like the view

And I want to slam the door,
And I want to grab you by the back of your pretty neck,
Spin you around,
And yell into your face,
“Well now woman,”
“Explain Yourself!”

And I want top spend the next ten days
Eating
Drinking
Breathing
And fucking
You

(And, along about Wednesday, we may order in.)

And along about Friday, I may have a little explaining to do, too

But my explanation won’t take long,

Because you’ve seen my kind before

And you know:
That I am unwashed
And you know:
That I am unclean
And you know:
That I am unworthy to enter the temple
And you know:
That it doesn’t matter what I want.

(I used to say that I was a bad, bad man, until my Mother told me that I was being redundant.)

But we’re in the Poetry Barn tonight

And because we’re in the Poetry Barn,
I’d like to take a moment, and dip into that Well

I’d like to dip into that Well,
Hoary with age
and tell you brothers and sisters

About the Little Bits:

Little Bits are like water

(Remember, there are no cliché’s, only truths that are more or less evident about you and your kind…)

And they’ve seen your kind before

The Little Bits are water,
But not the water you drown in,
Not the water where you sink or swim,

The Little Bits are the glass of water they give you, when you’ve done your time in the desert

And you wander into that strange town

And they’ve seen your kind before

And they know:
That you are unwashed
And they know:
You are unclean
And they know:
That you want to, like all those before you

To rip their pipes from the wall,
To swallow it all,
To receive the washing ‘till you are washed clean of the desert

But.

The Little Bits are the glass of water they give you
When you’ve done your time in the desert

Filled three drops from the bottom

Because they know:
You would be like all those of your kind, and end up bloated and dying
And they know:
You would just turn it all to piss anyway

So you take the glass,
And lick away at what you can get

Receiving the Catholic Baptism of the Innocent,
While crying out for the drowning of the Protesters of Youth

Well.

Give praise, Brothers and Sisters,

Because I intend:
To burn down the Desert
To drown in the River
To turn the sweat
In the bottom of this glass,
To whiskey

And if I can do all this,
Do you think I can get

Another Little Bit?

Hey, I quite like it. Half strikes me as a song rather than a poem, and I'll have to read it again when the flu is gone, but at first pass, it's pretty interesting.

--A

Plissken: bravo, i liked the flow. i got a sense of Burroughs...what else have you been hiding?

Not much -- poetry only happens to me when I'm driving for extended periods of time, and poetry I like happens to me even less then that. Regardless, I've been without a car for several months...

Glad you like it, though. Thanks.

wish I had written it.

I like it. I'm not entirely clear on the meaning half the time, but poetry often does that to me. I like the style; it's unusual and works better than I initially expected.

I really, really like it.

Kinda 'TS Eliot meets Talking Heads... introduced by Van Morrison'.

Feel free to use that in the blurb for your first publication.

Edge wrote:I really, really like it.

Kinda 'TS Eliot meets Talking Heads... introduced by Van Morrison'.

Feel free to use that in the blurb for your first publication.

HA! If I ever subject the public to a "Collected Works of Plissken," that blurb'll be bigger than the title!

Thanks for the kind words, everyone.

Very good stuff! When the metaphor of the desert comes in, it really takes wing and soars.

When the metaphor of the desert comes in, it really takes wing and soars.

Actually, that's when I started skimming. I liked the beginning much better. It's almost like two poems. Now, granted, I don't like poetry, so my opinion doesn't mean crap. But I was digging that first half. I especially like:

And I want to grab you by the back of your pretty neck,
Spin you around,
And yell into your face,
“Well now woman,”
“Explain Yourself!”

Explain yourself?!? Wow. Not what I was expecting. But then again . . . what better way for a woman to explain what Woman is? I don't think a chunk of exposition followed that demand.