Window into her soul April 13, 2013

 

  

Picking up on a theme I referred to several days ago about the synchronicity of posts she makes that seem to respond in some ways to posts I’ve made, I live with the fantasy of an imaginary conversation between us, this sad dream that somehow, we continue to communicate long after she made it perfectly clear she wants nothing to do with me.

It is pure delusion on my part to think otherwise.

If there is an unconscious element in all this, it is mine – since my posts may well seem innocent and innocuous, unrelated on the surface, while underneath, each bears the scars of the last year whether I am consciously aware of it or not – while her posts for the most part (particularly lately) have nothing to do with me. There are no secret messages hidden in the text in response to what I post, and to think otherwise is a form of madness.

Early on, she once called us kindred spirits, and perhaps in some fashion we were or maybe still are. Despite the difference in our ages, we share many similar interests and use our art to convey inner feelings we often would not express more openly otherwise.

But my fantasy is dangerous because I truly want to retain some level of connection, even if is a remote as my posting a poem and having her post one in response – when, in fact, I know it is not the case, and merely my reading into her word’s things not really there, or at least not connected to anything I have done – at least lately.

I believe she used many of the poems she posted over the summer as communication with me, but as the year came to an end and her life as moved on, I am the last person she would speak to, poetically or in any other fashion.

As the old disclaimer for movies and books goes: any such resemblance is merely coincidence – no matter how much I wish it was otherwise.

An honest assessment of her recent poetry shows a different and more personal turmoil, and if she is sending messages through these poems, these are aimed at the man she currently loves, and not some phantom of the past.

I’m sure she knows I read her poetry, just as her Brooklyn stalker does, and perhaps those people who loved her prior to him. In that sense, she is sending a progress report, the up and down of an emotional thermometer by which anyone who reads her poems correctly can assess her current condition.

Her most recent poems talk about her need for love, a sharp contradiction to poems she posted prior to our meeting when she spoke about the folly of pursing love, yet how when it works, it works fine.

A romantic at heart, she tends to disparage love during those times when her pursuit of it has led her to a dead end, and yet still hasn’t given up on it, as the last line of her most recent poem attests to.

Her poetry is a window into her soul, and I will regret the day when she ceases to post it, shutting the last window into her life.

I’m sure I won’t be the only person disappointed when that happens.


 2012 menu  


email to Al Sullivan

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hoping for the best June 24, 2013

Image
        I feel sorry for everybody involved in this trickle up game, not just the so called victims (we walk into    these things with our eyes open and are taken advantage of only because we have our own lusts we can’t control), but also our poet, who knows no other way of life, and must abide by the rules of a game she finds herself stuck in – and must do what she needs to do in order to retain any sense of self-worth. This is what she is, and this is what she must do. But even at her worst, her poetry suggests she is hardly the rascal the congressman’s PR person makes her out to be. She plays the hand of cards she gets dealt. She sometimes misreads the deck, such as assuming that her chef friend in New York was competent, when he was anything else but that. She also leaped onto the bandwagon when it came to our former temporary boss, assuming he could do more for her than it turns out he could, his temporary condition making him of little more use than a...
Read more

Ships that pass in the night July 9, 2013

Image
  A mentioned yesterday, there is more going on in regard to her latest poem than just the content. Again, we come to the possibility that our posts are somehow some kind of secret communication, wishful thinking on my part, of course, because I know she really hates me. I suspect I am deluding myself with hopeful thinking that she has maintained this one thin thread of communication between us, though this poem adds increasing evidence to that illusion – since I posted a poem that in some respects foreshadowed the one she posted this week. My poem included a video of me wandering a small beach in Jersey City near Liberty State Park, and was intended as a response to even earlier poem about borrowed lives. The poem goes I find no path among these river stones, so I make my own, turning this way then that, side steps that lead me nowhere, then back, my life made up of clumps like these small eddies filled with seaweed and people I need, but never see again when I move ...
Read more

The mouse trap game June 19, 2013

Image
    It’s a trap; but whose trap is it? At dinner with our former temporary boss, he confirmed he’s still in contact with our poet. Unfortunately, he thinks he’s clever and fed me information about his plans to work for R in the upcoming Hometown election. I might have believed it if only because of my suspicion that our poet is also working for R. But our former temporary boss rarely sounds convincing when he does things like this, making me think he’s still enraged about our poet being forced to resign last October, and would like to get me to compromise myself by feeding this phony bit of information to GA, the Hometown blogger. He has no poker face and so I can clearly see him biting back his rage over the last couple of weeks – just the way he looked a year ago when I threw him under the bus by telling our poet that we had met and talked about her (still one of the stupidest things I’ve ever done.) I’m just not sure what he thinks I’ve done this time to deserve s...
Read more