by Eric Nixon
What the others have created
Running around and screaming
The beachgoers are
Oblivious of the beauty
Staring them in the face
All they care about is
Working on their tans
And checking each other out
With my picture done
I put my pencils away,
Stand up, wipe off the sand,
Look again past the people
Out onto the endless blue
And go home
July 2, 2002
Revere, Massachusetts
Trespassing On Your Sensibilities (Gerund One)
Trespassing on your sensibilities
Jumping from conclusion to conclusion
Causing a momentous contusion
Ripping through your mental boundaries
Dealing out the irrational thoughts
Gunning for your understanding
Loosening the rusted gray in the head
Perching to see where this will go
Loathing your lack of cerebral continence
Purging more than was deemed necessary
Scoffing at what was looming in the dark
Slamming down the inhered wrongness of it all
Trouncing the troubled thoughts was wonderful
Wrenching it all free and letting them fly away
Muzzling the dangerous parts prone to hatred
Latching the rest of it into firm sturdy place
Graying as the years and fears whizzed and passed
Fumbling with the locks and latches put into place
Grinning the knowing smile as everything is freed
Feeding on the feeling of unexplainable contentment
Bracing for the splendid eventuality of the evening
Lancing like lightning through the awaiting mind
Tripping unexpectedly on the speed bump there
Falling down to the ground where it was found
July 9, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
Each And Every
This isn’t going the way I intended
Everything’s wrong so wrong
In shambles around my feet
And I’m standing in the middle
I’m not sure how it all deviated
From what I had planned
So carefully thought out
Now so carelessly burning down
The attention to detail was amazing
The logistics were minutely planned
It couldn’t possibly go wrong
But it did
The fingers start pointing my way
No time to think about the issue
All the time is gone
Spinning in the past away from me
The blame rained down heavy on my
Now much smaller little world with
Each and every
Voice that saw me
Years later I look back and wonder
Would my life have ever been the same
What did I expect to gain
Would I do it all over again
I think about this
Each and every
Day of my life
In my own little world
July 12, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
This Is
This is
The way it should be
The way it never was
This was
The wrong turn you made
The instance you cannot change
This will be
The weight you will always bear
Your sole haunting regret
July 13, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
Until Today
Until today
I hadn’t written any poems
That began with
U, V, X, or Z
I can see why they
Haven’t been used
Those less common
Fairly few words
Which begin
With those letters
Until today
There were four
Now only three left
Someday there will be none
But for now I’ll have to deal
With those three
Taunting me
Until I chase them down
One by one
And use them
For my own poetic purposes
It will happen
Someday
July 14, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
At the time, my poems were sorted alphabetically and I noticed I hadn’t written any that began those letters and I had sought to correct that.
Postcard Pretty
Standing on the edge
Wind whipping around
Looking across the void
Into tomorrow’s maw
Darkening clouds
Fill the horizon
And begin to build
Distant flashes
Gray and black
Cold and daunting
I look behind me
Babbling brook
Large flowering fields
Bright and sunny
Warm and green
Postcard pretty
Turn on my heels
My back to tomorrow
Breathe deeply
Feel more relaxed
And saunter away
Away from the void
July 25, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
Why They Stare
That’s what I
Like about you
When you’re
Driving and
Singing to
The music
Cranked loud
Windows down
Car speeding
Hair blowing
Thumbs tapping
Face contorting
Not knowing
Not caring
Who they are or
Why they stare
At you
July 30, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
October
Problematic
Problematic
Of legendary proportions
Somewhat
Cinematic
In the display of the frantic
Somehow
Drastic
Being slightly more than thick
Somewhere
Public
Where wily things go spastic
Sometimes
Sapphic
Loving the daisy so graphic
Someplace
Pelvic
Covering the lady with lipstick
Someday
You’ll be able to freely frolic
Until then
It’s problematic
October 9, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
I think I was trying to sound dirty without actually being so.
Four Years Gone
Four years gone
Four years officially
Of you and I
Of us sharing a name
The love and the pain
But it’s actually more
More like ten – all of it
Packed with happiness
Four years gone
With hundreds of
Wonderful nights
And thousands of
I love you’s
And millions of
Perfect kisses
But who’s counting
Four years gone
Don’t be sad and
Don’t be wishing
Those years back
Four years into it
For the two of us yet
One lifetime remains
And I can’t wait
October 10, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
A poem I wrote to celebrate our anniversary (with my now ex-wife). We s
eparated one month later.
The Rest Of Forever
When you bury me
Please make sure
To make sure
That I have a
A good view
Of something
Beautiful
Of something
Nice
Of something
That I’d want
To spend the
The rest of forever
Looking at
Staring at
Contemplating
Someplace with
A view of life
A view of nature
A view of something
So full of wonder
So on those days
And years that go by
Where no one visits
And no one thinks
Of me
I’ll still have something
Still have something
To see
Still have something
For me
For my rest
For the rest of forever
October 28, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
Carelessly Lucky
I didn’t mean to leave that poem
Out in front of the computer
I didn’t mean for you to read that poem
The one about us
I was going to type it in Word last night
But then I didn’t feel like writing or typing
And I accidentally left it out in plain sight
Didn’t think you’d get up so early this morning
I didn’t mean to give you second thoughts
I thought you made up your mind to leave
I didn’t mean to mix your emotions
I thought we agreed I was too naïve
Sorry to have caused all that confusion
You must be feeling right now
If it means you’ll stay
If it means I have even the slightest chance
My God how I’ll pray
If it means resurrecting our faded romance
If it means a chance of that then no I’m not sorry
Leaving that poem out was carelessly lucky of me
What do we do, where do we go from here
No time for thinking anymore
Confidence has replaced loneliness and fear
Walk up the steps to your door
My heart is leading me in for the charge
And this is a battle I intend to win
Your true feelings have recharged me
Kissing you sends us into a tailspin
October 30, 2002
Chelsea, Massachusetts
November
Divot
Divot on the finger
Where the ring once lived
White band of pale skin
Is all that remains to remind
Me of all that once was
Even though it’s gone
I still am stuck in my habit
Of trying to play with my ring
The one that’s not there
The one that’s gone
And so is everything
Everything it symbolized
November 16, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
Swim Swim
At first we thought we were
Drown drowning our sorrows
But they turn turned the tables
Knocked us under the table
Drowned us under the table
And we can't swim to shore
We can't swim swim anymore
Swimming isn’t an option
When you’re too far gone
So gone it’s way too wrong
It’s easier to just give in
Instead of trying to swim
Slip below the surface
Slip into the furnace
No fight no struggle no fuss
Nothing like that from us
More than enough to fill a bus
With all the empties
Way too many empties
No deposit no return
Try as I might I can never return
November 19, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
From Scratch
Starting over
From scratch
Scratch isn’t right
Mortal wound
Is a better description
Either way
It’s a new beginning
Either way
I’m starting over
From scratch
November 20, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
Home
Home used to be
Where she was
Now I have come
To realize that
Home is where I am
Wherever I am
Whatever pillow
My head hits
Whatever roof
I’m under
Here I am
Here is home
November 20, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
No Receipt No Return
No receipt no return
Is what the sign said
“Next time I’ll learn,”
Is what I always said
“I know it’s broken
I know it’s been
Stomped on beaten
Ripped in half
Stabbed through
Crushed crumbled
Punctured with forks
And torn in two
But it still works
So please take it back
It has too many bad
Memories for me.”
The old man said,
“No receipt no return,”
And left it at that
Heart in hand
I walked out the door
Next time I’ll learn
And I mean it this time
Until the next time
There’s always a next time
November 26, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
Beautiful Day
Beautiful day
To look forward to the future
Beautiful day
To forget about the past
Beautiful day
For something for anything
Fun new and exciting
Let the sun shine down
Let the rain fall down
Let the moon spin out of control
Let anything and everything happen
Let all those caged smiles out
Let them all go just let them go
Let something wonderful into your life
Let something wonderful happen tonight
Yell louder than you’ve thought possible
Laugh harder for no reason for every reason
Smile bigger until your face splits wide open
Jump higher, so high up and over the moon
Sing along and not care what people think
Do it all, do it now, don’t stop now, do it
Do it like your life depends on it
Do it because your life depends on it
Do it for yourself, so get out and do it
Throw out everything holding you down
Throw out all the things making you frown
Toss them aside throw them out out out
Never going to cry never going to pout
Never none no no more ever no way
Not going to be dragged down today
Not going to frown on this beautiful day
Going to wrap my arms all around it
Going to let myself get filled by it
Going to love going to feel going to be
Going to do anything everything
Here on this beautiful day
Wicked superific mega-fantasticly
Beautiful day
November 26, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
December
Zebra
Zebra
Alone in the field
Picturesque field
Looking at me
Telling me what to do
Always here
Always telling
Always controlling
Always everything
Yet I listen
Yet I hear
Yet I comprehend
Yet I still obey
Zebra
Stripes oscillating
Like a fractal poster
On too much THC
On too much tequila
Stripes confusing
Like a tax form
After a triple shift
After a wicked kegger
So I listen
So I hear
So I comprehend
So I still obey
No words
No sounds
Just thoughts
Just pictures
In my brain
Out on the range
Just me and the
Zebra
December 6, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
…and there’s a poem that begins with a “Z.”
A Small Carry-On
I can see it in your eyes I can tell
The mind racing thinking oh so hard
At those last few words I said
The part about me being divorced
You have to believe me when I say
You have to trust me here today
I have a lot less baggage than you think
Than you assume for a divorced guy
Just a small carry-on
Nothing too big
Nothing to freak you out
Nothing to scare you off
Nothing to write home about
So here I am
Me and my honesty
Flowers in one hand
A small carry-on
In the other
Nothing too big
Nothing to freak you out
Nothing to scare you off
Nothing to write home about
Just me
And a small carry-on
December 16, 2002
Manchester, New Hampshire
I heard the words carry-on a few days ago which got me thinking about baggage which got me thinking about the emotional baggage implications of it. Especially in my current situation I almost feel that I would have to explain to any potential special women in my life that I’m fine with everything that’s happened, not like most men who have gone through a divorce.
Hold Tight
Don’t let go
Whatever you do
Keep holding on
Hold tight
I won’t be
The one who lets go
I can’t see
You letting go
I couldn’t see
I couldn’t believe