I am the messiest confetti popper
A wolf that used to be alive I guess
(as they do)
I trust this wolf when he says beware
positron with the grue-bleen eyes
He, not the wolf but the man the wolf
Two tiny banana butter mints.
I poof. The tall man can't reach
so there are hours I don't exist.
the one the Warriors forgot about.
I was lost and then I was found howling.
to some experimental tunes called Love
that spilt on my naked stomach.
"Blackout" is a beautiful word
After a night spent actually out of my mind on a combination of strange drugs and even stranger company, I woke in the afternoon, very late for work, with a second-degree burn on my stomach. Still dazed from the events and the feelings they inspired, I couldn't even recognize the pain until I tried to make storied sense of it, and what it meant for my fleeting "relationship" with the person responsible. Having written about love and romance before, this experience was different in that I couldn't trust my own first-hand account. I have very little evidence of this ruinous night but that haunty, spooky cloud of memory mystery follows me literally in the form of a scar. "Banana" is about not trusting myself or the other person involved or the retrospective narrative or poetry in general, for that matter. Because when trying to relay feelings felt in a work of art, there is usually some amount of gathered thought like a small souvenir that carries through clearly. In this case, the scramble to remember was itself the sole souvenir, and so my poem explores the fractals of the event remembered honestly plus the shame and worry of not knowing myself or my state of mind then or what might happen when those non-feelings are forced into a poem. "Banana" tries its best to make sense out of nonsense but finds itself also stuck in a fog, revealing that art doesn't necessarily access realized past truthfully when it isn't sure of itself. The poem is like a dream diary entry meets a moral tale with no bowtie ending, meets complicated thoughts on love and temporality and, of course, #yolo.