This is one of those words that can’t be understood until you have lived through it.

And then, you simply say, “I’m heartbroken,” and those who have been heartbroken understand and fall silent while the others make sympathetic noises. They make sounds with you, in concert with you, in response to you.

What they do not realize is that what you need most is silence.

There are some memories that can only be grasped in the left hand and held to your ear in dead silence.

There are some voices that can only be conjured up when you are so quiet you could hear a pin crack.

There are some rooms that only return to existence when the space around you is sucked clear of anything like a sound, a word.

This is why poetry is useless for heartbreak’s balm. All a poem can do is move along beside you. It can never move inside you until after you are healed.

This is one of those words that can’t be understood until you have lived through it.

And then, you simply say, “I’m heartbroken,” and those who have been heartbroken understand and fall silent while the others make sympathetic noises. They make sounds with you, in concert with you, in response to you.

What they do not realize is that what you need most is silence.

There are some memories that can only be grasped in the left hand and held to your ear in dead silence.

There are some voices that can only be conjured up when you are so quiet you could hear a pin crack.

There are some rooms that only return to existence when the space around you is sucked clear of anything like a sound, a word.

This is why poetry is useless for heartbreak’s balm. All a poem can do is move along beside you. It can never move inside you until after you are healed.

Here you go, Sou: “Geoffry” by Christopher Smart.

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We appear to be in the middle of a hot debate over on gotpoetry.com concerning the role, future, etc., of slam…at least in part occasioned by my most recent column, at least in part by other considerations not worth going into here.

If you’re that interested in the details of this debate, go check em out. I’m not commenting specifically on it here. All I really feel like saying about it is: the best thing you can do when you’re done with something is fold your tents and retreat.

I’m actually good at that, usually. I think my constant fiddling about with this topic is telling me something…that I’m not really done with slam.

I think something’s got to give, and give big, for the slamiverse to move forward. It’s become a festival of the New, and tradition is secondary, so the whole’s become incessantly self referential — people are speaking to each other almost exclusively in real time, with no eye back to the past and the future limited to next week.

Who’s writing for tomorrow?

When I was growing up as a poet, I thought of myself as being in competition not with the folks around me, but with folks like Neruda and Whitman.

I really feel if you’re not gunning for Shakespeare, you’re a hobbyist at this — and maybe that’s my problem. Maybe I’m too fucking much of a purist. I ought to settle down and have fun with my poetry; but fun is secondary to transcendence in my world. Fun, in fact, is secondary to almost everything. And maybe, just maybe, I am losing out by being so committed to the primacy of Art in my life.

ADAM AND EVE ON A RAFT, WRECK ‘EM

The cup’s on the counter.
Your lipstick’s on the rim.
The whole day’s shot to hell.
My job and your tumbled papers
swept aside, I sit down
on the corner stool. I used to kiss you
here, and there. We used to make each other
hungry. After us I was not intact
but I was complete as long as
the lipstick stayed in my head
and wasn’t smeared all over.

I take a drink, get
lipstick on the rim of my teeth.
You never used your teeth but
you always let me know
they were there, and now
they are not. I’m left with tears
and left hooks.
I’m counter
help in hell — short order joint, learning to wash the
dishes, make sure all the
stains are gone.

Boss, I’m not up to the job
of dealing with this.
Fire me. I’ll collect
thoughts
for a while.

I’ll never be able to hold this job.
I’m too numb to quit. Boss,
tell me I’m fired.
Tell me to make like an egg and
scramble. Tell me
I’m gone.

I competed in a New England Slam League bout.

And I had FUN.

Too cool.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Spent most of the weekend in Mystic CT with friends, came home, jumped in the car and hit Worcester for the first time in a while.

Morris and Corrina asked me to slam for Providence, so I said, “what the hell — it’s a holiday, eh?”

I’m sure Adam and Morris will be publishing their dissections, but the teams were:

Providence Defectors: Corrina Bain androidlustre, Carlos Gomez, Tony Brown (you know…me)

Worcester Wickeds: Alex C hairy_lamb, Urban urbanitus, Ryk McIntyre (allegedly soon to be here), Morris mstegosaurus

Team Snake With Legs: Starthisisstar, Sou MacMillanthisrabbit, Adam Stoneakamuu (who took off too fast afterward — dude! Where’d you go?)

In the final dust, Worcester pulled it out over us, with the Snake slithering in third.

But I had a good time…which makes the new Zero Point Zero (which is now up here ) a bit ironic, since the title is “How Slam Became Irrelevant.”

A bit of a rant…

Very well then; I contradict myself; I contain multitudes. (Some poet said that a while back…)

Zero Point Zero will be up shortly; just an issue with getting on to approve it and post it. Keep checking here for the update. Should be soon. (Update: as of 1:15 am July 3, still nothing. I’ll let you know when it’s up. Sorry.)

It’s a doozy.

Probably won’t be around much this weekend, what with the holiday and all…

Have a good one.

I’m really interested in this meme.

I always find them interesting as phenomena, in general; some are dumber than others, of course. But this one — you know, I’m vainly interested in what people who do and do not know me will ask.

So here goes…

“This is the problem with LJ, we all think we are so close, and we know nothing about each other. I’m going to rectify it. I want you to ask me something you think you should know about me. Something that should be obvious, but you have no idea about. Then post this in your LJ and find out what people don’t know about you.”

Let the healing begin. (I think I heard that in a movie someplace.)