So this is for the second day. If you've followed along on facebook, you probably have already read these. I'm going to try to get caught up today, so that we both stay current and up-to-date on what I'm writing. I would like to remind all of you (delusions of grandeur; assuming there might be more than one of you reading...) that poetry is fiction. It's often the most non-fiction thing that one can write, but to a reader, it's fiction. Take it that way, if you please. Also, I know it's a lot to ask, but if you have any criticism that you would consider constructive to the poem, please do share. Don't go out of your way, but feel free to share. I welcome it.
04/02/2010: Water
Sobering Musings
Pondering the minds of extroverts
I think about fluidity and stagnation
And maples and elms
And the story behind dogwood blossoms
And wondering how many glasses
Seven tastings equals
Because my mind winds a different path
When it's free from the constraints
Of sobriety
I bet they're more fluid than me, extroverts
Accepting and rejecting nearly anything
Without too much thought
Too much analyzing
My brain has faulty connections, I think
Just as I defend it for it's discernment
Your hand in mine feels nice
As you explain that introverts belong
Together
And I can see why you'd think that
It's the most natural thing on earth
Your hand in mine
There are no crashing cymbals
No bats in my stomach
Just peace like a morning fog
Hanging low over a hidden lake
That stretches from our hands
To my soul
You are my best friend
But even at the best of times
I don't love you
Like that
So I left the extroverts to their oceans
And my mind to it's damnation
Left my body on that Adirondack chair
To sweep the hill crowning vineyards
With my drunken child within
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