sweet scent swirling swimming she surprised surrendered allowed me inside her sacred space where I recollected remembered reconnected myself and now I don't want to wash the taste of her fountain from my skin.
naked young women with fishing poles dance inside my eyes their hooks waiting restlessly within my chest memories of hot female sway I tug at their lines they reel me in.
I want to hold her close feel her legs around me I want to give her everything I've got exhaust myself into her sink into her skin and sleep on her like a lazy shepherd napping with his flock on a hillside in the sweet summer sun.
now I'm a tiny bird cold and quivering in your hands. now I'm a small boy lost in a department store that's about to close. seconds ago I was a lion in your bed a storm blowing out your walls jupiter crashing into venus the climax of an opera now I'm a little lost traveler hiding in a land of giants you could kill me with the flick of a finger or a harsh word. I need your protection in this moment when I'm so open so vulnerable because this is when the phantoms come this is when the black wordless void where I was taken as a child returns to claim me again opening its dark mouth under my feet pulling me down into its throat sending me back in time to myself showing me how small and alone I was when it happened. please don't abandon me now not now stay close be with me breathe with me just give me a few minutes and I'll be the man you know again.
Like my last two poems featured in the Chronicle (“knock me out” and “absolute zero”), “bottom line guilt trips” dates back to the 1989-1990 time frame when my first book, Iron Man Family Outing, was written and published. These three poems were part of a set of about fifty I wrote during that period that do not appear in the book. They were subsequently packed away, forgotten, and then rediscovered in October 2010 during my exploration of a box in my closet that became the Iron Man Family Outtakes project.
It’s once again very interesting to see something I wrote so long ago finally appearing in public for the first time. I’m not sure why I didn’t include this poem in Iron Man Family Outing. It’s consistent in character and tone with other material in the book. I may have felt that it didn’t work in the flow of content and feeling I was trying to establish. Perhaps I felt it would have been unnecessary or somehow redundant when viewed in context with the other poems I was using. Maybe it felt a little too blunt and little too bold for me to put it out into the world at that time.
Maybe it was some combination of all those things. In any case, it has finally emerged.
My poem “reverie” is the featured “Poem of the Issue” in this week’s edition of The Austin Chronicle. This one is just about a month old, although I actually started it in January 2010. Started it, got stuck, forgot about it, and then picked it back up and finished it about 18 months later. Very unusual for me to do that. Usually, if I don’t wrap ‘em up within a day or two, the moment passes and that’s the end of it.
I’m always looking for her. Always. I seem them everywhere, but not her. Did she already pass through my life and I missed her somehow? From a purely statistical standpoint, I know that if I counted up all the relationships, love affairs, dates, crushes, friendships, random encounters, near misses, and failed attempts, those numbers alone would lead me to the conclusion that I should have found her by now.
The numbers, oh the numbers. Much of the time now I feel like there isn’t room for even one more woman in my head, much less my heart. Where do I put them all? Every woman I’ve ever wanted, touched, felt, loved is still with me, even the ones I think I’ve forgotten. I add to the list every time I’m in the grocery store …
“I want her and her and her …”
But I don’t really want “her and her and her …” I never did.
I want the only one I’ve ever wanted.
I want her.
starlight ocean brown skin wonderland roller coaster hummingbird silk smart radiance. dark-eyed luxury brilliant hourglass plush warm lovely forgotten dream. forgotten dream forgotten worlds forgotten self forgotten need. she is jungle she is ocean she is starlight she is music. glorious illusion forbidden treasure holographic past someone else's present. with her I want with her I remember but wanting is not having and remembering is not being.
I’m gradually making my way through the folder of Iron Man Family Outing outtakes I discovered in a box in my closet back in March 2009 and posting the results at http://rickbelden.com/outtakes. The three latest poems posted are:
“meat for the machine” is a very raw, super intense take on dysfunctional sexual relationship.
Parts one (“reflection / refraction”) and two (“male / female”) of the three-part “Iron Man Family Outtakes” series are now complete. Next up: part three.
party girl dance across the pacific eyes and lips so fresh and heavy only one way to make a living running backwards through the boneyard. sitting with me going nowhere momentary heat connection somewhat real and somewhat fake intersecting intersections flashing lights in frozen lake. party girl needs a husband party boy needs to last both of us are underwater both of us are fading fast.