He Wonders

He used to wonder
if he would find someone
who would wade the river of his soul
grow tan in the sun of his love
allow him to want,
recklessly and desperately,
completely
let him take hold
with a desire so fierce
it left an ache with every heartbeat,
every pulse
He used to wonder
if he would find someone
who would follow him anywhere
everywhere
even places they should not
could not go
might they forge a path
together
wanting what he wanted somehow
letting it be wanting what they wanted

what they both wanted

without it being
sacrifice

He used to wonder
if anyone would hear him
as he heard himself
He used to wonder
if the rising need was sweet to anyone else,
or if they loped along their dogpaths,
grass in their toes,
mud in their mouths,
content for achievement,
for purchase,
for valor

He remembers as a younger man,
hearing others mock someone else
for laying in bed with their lover
for hours,
brushing her hair,
marveling
that the universe had made something that was precious

He used to wonder
if he might have that,
that marvel,
that sweetness,
that

light

He wonders,
still

About Catastrophe Jones

Wretched word-goblin with enough interests that they're not particularly awesome at any of them. Terrible self-esteem and yet prone to hilarious bouts of hubris. Full of the worst flavors of self-awareness. Owns far too many craft supplies. Will sing to you at the slightest provocation.
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3 Responses to He Wonders

  1. This is incredible. I feel like I have so much to say about it, beyond just the fact that I find it brilliant.

    I love

    “grow tan in the sun of his love”–playful, free wheeling, very poetic.

    But I guess what I really want to say is that this poem is like a spiral for me. I see your empathy for this ‘he’, and I wonder…delicately,

    “Why does he continue to wonder?”(final stanza) Is it the nature of ‘him’, or the nature of existence and wanting in general, to never be sated?

    I don’t know, just asking. I am not at all surprised that he “wonders, still”

    I personally find a clue in a line that struck me on my first reading: “an ache with every heartbeat”. The emptiness of the space between, in the wanting, in the living, in the perfect union he desires. The absence of continuity inside the presence of fantasy.

    And then just from my own point of view, I really appreciated the lines following the wonder about the “rising sweetness” (the pull of idyllic and imaginary desire), because I feel that too, just as ‘he’ does….

    These lines, in particular of course:

    “or if they loped along their dogpaths,
    grass in their toes,
    mud in their mouths,
    content for achievement,
    for purchase,
    for valor”

    An indictment of the practical, ambitious, worldly mind?

    Anyway, I absolutely love this one…thanks.

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