June 27, 2004


Over the last three days or so, I have sifted through my entire life.

I found many artifacts of my earlier bohemian performance poet days.

I found many poems, written by others as well as by me. The poem below isn't good, but it does mostly express what I'm feeling now.

This is one of my earliest poems judging from the typewriter copy I found. This piece is therefore about 15 years old. I'm usually pretty good at dating them but this one had no such documentation. The only problem is the line that says, "Why I really don't want to go back."

I want to go back. It's just taken me 20 years to get ready.


Back home.
I think about home
The rolling plains.
The tractors, combines, and pick-up trucks.
The suffocatingly muggy hot summers.
The windblown icebox winters.

My boyhood.
Living on the farm.
Riding the schoolbus.
The redbrick elementary institution of learning,
Being the fat kid.

My adolescence.
Peers with circles on their hip pockets
from Skoal cans.
Friday night football games.
Getting stoned on deserted country roads,
Being the over achiever.
Being lonely.
Feeling isolated.
Detached from the rest of the world.
Longing to bridge the separation.

My hometown.
Small and insignificant.
(As seen through my eyes.)
The courthouse square.
The railroad traces
cutting through town.

That place.

That existence.

They seem
so distant, so very far away,
so long ago, ancient.
Another planet.
Another lifetime.

I need to go back there,
see it again.

Old classmates still live there.
Some live the very same day
over and over and over...
I see it as a pretty boring place.
That's why I left.
Why I really don't want to go back.

I must.

That place is the basis
of what I am how.

I need to reconnect with it.

There is a part of me
that is still there.

I need to be whole again.

Posted by Wayne at June 27, 2004 11:45 PM
Post a comment

Remember personal info?