Tuesday, March 6, 2012

Craigslist Personal Ad--- Choir-Boy Seeks Goth-Girl


for a recurring rendezvous, a blending of opposites:

I’m seeking a cohort to romp through the crème de la crème all the way down into the cracker crust of local metal (or other eclectic) bands; to touch the shape and sound produced by the primal dance of drum and guitar and grinding flesh against steel. I’m seeking a collaborator to pretend to be wealthy, play dress up in fine clothes and share our body heat at a ballroom in a slow winding waltz. I’m seeking a partner to tear it up at a dive bar singing pop or country karaoke. I’m seeking an affiliate to squander our rapidly waning dollar on the latest bilge Hollywood produces. I’m seeking an associate to watch amateur leagues play ball at the park or join in on a Tuesday or Friday night dodge ball game. I’m seeking a companion to break bread—share a meal—discuss politics, films, poets, authors, oddities, art, music, the decline of our civilization, work, spirituality, anything—I can cook. I’m seeking an equal to simply share subtleties rambling through neighborhoods breathing in the ectoplasm of life as it is lived or not.

I’m searching for a lissom energy signature I encountered vibrating through the seat of my soul before the turn of the wheel. I’m searching for somebody, I call “Black Nails,” the image of her hand appeared on that veil, which hangs between the unconscious and conscious mind. I know this all sounds crazy, to think that an a-priori connection could occur linking two strangers through that esoteric aether existing between here and there, you and me.

Perhaps we’ve already chanced ‘cross one another: at the Harvard grocery, or Vivace’s, or strolling down Broadway, or at the Sureshot Cafe Sunday afternoon’s listening to potluck musicians spill fire out their guts, or on a bus, or at a metro stop in the morning waiting and not wanting to go to work—me trying not to drink you in, nevertheless intrigued by the sway of your gait and flit of your hair across your forehead.

Maybe you’ve seen me and I haven’t you near the lake or at a park. A man sitting on a bench with a book or notepad frenetically scribbling delicious lines of verse or humming morose Hank Williams melodies or composing passionate lyrics that somehow appear to fall down from the heavens. Perhaps in your imagination you’ve encountered echoes of his pounding heart in thunderous applauds of silence—breathing in the now. Two souls meet, melt into one, a kaleidoscope of mind segmented into body, blended into opposing forces of light dark, yin yang, me you.

Are you her? That star crossed lover I visit in shadow of moonlight sonnets splayed ‘cross the sky in mysterious swaths of passion: an open door, a free spirit, elfin, earthy, bottomless eyes, long white fingers—nails painted black….

---William James, February 5, 2008


Also check out my other wordpress website. It's a literary journal called Randomly Accessed Poetics! Submissions are open. We Publish continually. Lastly, Penhead Press's first publication: Randomly Accessed Poetics, Issue 1: The Texture of Words came out. If you're interested you can find it in the kindle store.

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