dear 2012
I want to start off on the right foot, which means I should get some things straight from the get-go.
I have quite a bit of poetry in me. It shall emanate from wherever it lurks. Tonight it sounds somewhat like this:
don’t leave, I
don’t know your last
known address, or what
fall scents you find
tickle the bristles
in you I’ve yet
to see.happy new year’s,
and a toast to all
the misty fog I’ll
cleave with an automobile
on my way to the airport.
that’s not too bad. I believe it hits upon the holy saudade I live and die to breathe. I’ll call it “On The Red-Eye, Back Abroad”.
But I didn’t want to discuss poetry. Or perhaps I didn’t realize that I always must: I, for the first time, wanted a January to ride in gallantly through the dark of a december thirty-first. I think I heard it do so tonight.
Formerly, I knew not what to do on the first of the first and thereon. Today, I know there will be politics and a defibrillated bleeding heart at the outset, and that’s alright by me. Busily, I now know, is the only way to get things done, precisely to get to the distractions that make up the bric-a-brac of everything I take seriously, all too seriously: I think I want to have an opinion.
As the clock struck twelve I let or couldn’t help a petite flood within my eyelids, which was for the best considering how dry my contacts were at the time. I thought, and more importantly believed, I could begin to talk of passion not as something I’d set out to motivate, but as my present tense.
I dare not think, or rather divulge, what word will move me next, but it will come.
I’m glad it’s sunrise, 2012.
