In the tradition of Throwback Thursday, here's a poem I wrote in May 1993 while living in Spokane. It's not good, it's pretty terrible in fact, but I was 19 and messed up and it brings back those evenings. So close I can almost touch them. I can remember writing this one; amazing as there is much I cannot remember of those days. What I most remember is how, regardless of my personal misery, playing with language and images was such a pure joy.
shot through bloodshot red marijuana eyes
viewing from a pebble soup Spokane sidewalk
coming home from a tiring day
a mild headache,
a memory of a night spent entwined with my lover weeks ago
weathered old businessmen in shriner hats stare at me strangely
asking who am i to be walking down this ghost street
the architecture full of stone dust
all gargoyles frown mysteriously
catholic cathedral proudly displaying its ugly evil
across the street
cut in half by black meat cars
trees that have grown up breathing polluted air
looking like cigarette-scarred lungs
oh child innocent spring night memory
a full moon extra cop cars (tainted)
flashing! blowing! wigging out, the
unsuspecting children of the hallowed Spokane night
jungle rhythms cut headache into strips of hazy consciousness
a tribute to Ginsberg, yeah, this betrays his influence
but the death skull platitudes are all mine
down the street two beasts w/only one bright eye--Cyclops!--
creep towards me
spooky
i laugh as a soft mad child
safe in my headache nirvana.
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