I've talked on this blog about autobiographical poems, ones that attempt to express the truth about my life; and I've talked about Story poems, ones that seem to be autobiographical, but really aren't. There is also another category - the dream poem, a poem that came to me, essentially fully written, when I woke up in the morning. This poem is a slightly revised version of a dream poem from the late sixties.
THE WORD
All my life, I've been looking for a word,
I mean, the word,
Even when I was a little kid.
I tried lots of words,
But none of them made me feel good.
Every night this week, I've had this dream:
A big guy comes up to me and says:
"Okay, kid, I'm going to show you the word."
So I go with him, and it's really dark, and...
Nothing.
I never remember anything after that.
Last night was different.
I said to him, I said:
"Listen, if you don't show me the word tonight...
I'm going to make you."
And he smiled,
But I could tell he was scared.
Tonight, boy, tonight,
I'm going to feel good.
A blog about all the arts, including politics
"for 'twere absurd to think that nature in the earth bred gold, perfect in the instant;
there must be remote matter." - Ben Jonson
"I don't know what the question is, but art is the answer." - Guy Conner
