In the few months I’ve been home, I’ve done several readings around the Pioneer Valley. It has been nerve racking and exhilarating to read my prose in front of an audience.
Last week, I chose to read some of my poetry at Spoken Word Greenfield. It was a completely different experience. Poetry, being so much personal than fiction, was much more difficult for me to get through. I felt vulnerable and exposed.
It was difficult, but it was a great experience, one in which I hope to build on in the future.
I would love to hear from other writers out there. Do you feel a difference when you read poetry versus prose at an open mic? Which do you prefer?
Here is one of the poems that I read:
Out in the woods I stand in the middle of a bridge
And I can’t tell which way the water is moving.
Like myself, coming and going
Moving perpetually in two directions.
I’ve seen enough roadkill to last a lifetime.
I don’t want to drive anymore.
I want to close my eyes next to you.
Be near me so I don’t have to think.
Be near me so I don’t’ have to know myself.
There is too much inside.
No matter where I go I find myself at a trailhead.
I walk fifty yards into the woods and then turn around
Because I fear its depth.
Like how I stand in the shallow end of my soul.
I don’t want to know how far down it goes
Or what lurky beasts hide in its midst.
It’s all mist down there.
Caution signs everywhere.
I told you to stay away
That at the end it would feel better.
But then, that’s a lie
Because I batted the fuck out of my eyelashes for you to come over.
What took you so long?
I’ve been watching the clock,
Not long until my moods swing.
Let’s hit the bathroom.
Oh it’s too nasty?
I like to play dirty.
So I guess it’s all my fault
I wind up with shards of glass in my skin
And dirt in my eyes.
I don’t want to stop.
Nothing feels better than pen scribbled on paper.