love beau/ running the herbertstrasse

  Posted on September 26, 2014 at 5:29 am

I didn’t hear much about the woman this poem is about. All I heard was me, my feelings, my desire to take a situation and expand it into a relationship. I don’t believe there’s much written to indicate how magical this woman was. Only investing in my experience of magic and wanting her to come and continue it for me. It sounds like demands and memory with no offering of love. No true giving in the text. This is not to hate the poem. This is to see where the poem is at. Where the author is at with love. The distance I placed myself from the people in my life in order to create an ideal situation for us to imagine in. I can hear the dip in my voice at certain words. The tone dropping noticeably to me, as if my voice now is unsure of the line. Needs a deeper resonance to help follow through. To commit to the sentiment in the words. How has voice revealed our true relationship with our writing? Our willingness to love? I wish I remembered more about her. I only have this poem and a night in Hamburg. And that night in Hamburg is more the memory I’ve given it than the experiences I had. I still embrace this poem. Just like the others, it is so true to me at the time. It shows how ill-equipped I was for more than fantasy. A lovely fantasy. That I believed a poem would be all that’s needed to make real.