the problem of the self – insight on a sunny day

poetry

i was outside on the porch
taking in the sky with clear
eyes,
she comes out in my shirt
saying “pretty,
pretty boy”
and i go inside with
unfocused eyes
and stare at the broken
oven–and you will call me
after that,
and i will think i
know what you want,
and i will make a song about it,
and i will write about it,
and i will soon disappear.

The other

poetry

I thought I would remove the “self” from my convoluted mind
the self which only exists, contorted, exalted in your eyes
to please you or revolt you; the other

There won’t be no prickling shame if it weren’t for you-the other
the other’ s self I can’t escape or hide from

I would erase you if it weren’t a crime-sin and more shame from the other
the other’ s self which resists, galvanized and contrived by my brain
taught to hallucinate you and accept you; the other

It’s as if we are back to back and each facing a mirror where we’d sometimes
catch each other’ reflections; A vision where we can never meet- the other

I ought to shed my “self” and your “self” from my awareness’s shelf
maybe it’s all a mirage where nothing subsists beyond our selves.

[If] death’s-agreeable and unpredictable,
why walk away?
After all there won’t be no needling pain if it weren’t for you- the other
the true other – I can’t ever hold or get close to.