FEELING "YOUNG"

it's the smallest
of gestures that keep me interested,
the tiny things for which i look up.

a blue dress passing my eye, a smile
owning a room, a single ring

out of a bracelet
composed of many falling, too

cheap to clasp back on.

so you fashion it for me
into my very favorite of clichés.

the last of which who still
stands for something:

the shape of a heart.

bringing flirtations
to a recognizable halt, or enough
at least, to re-examine.

another level of how cute we are.
perhaps a small step forward?

i keep wanting to go back, and
ask you out again.

after a thousand tiny dates
of besides the point, under
the unfortunate pretense of simply

being friends.

it took away the edge, leaving assumption
and nervousness behind.

all things real
replaced pretend, so that

we might know each other
slowly.

a single sarcastic comment
at a time, one tiny truth
to hide behind, a field

who mumbles softly
of wild flowers. knowing
of it's beauty, yet afraid

of what it could possibly mean.

i enjoying being here with you, yet
intend to something about it.

LATE JULY

it's mid-afternoon
before the beaten down porch
catches enough of a breeze
to warrant company.

the honey locust clamor
from the heat and july
didn't take the time to be noticed.

i try suggesting a better spot
for the spider interested in real estate.
building condos in the only corner
flies don't vacation to, but the
translation gets lost between
the ashtray and sounds of children playing.

so the enjoyment of my july
is lemonade, the scent
of hibiscus groves from next door, and
the hope i'll fall in love
with something more than these
kinds of moments.

too few and far between
for anything less
than a brief affair.

a small, and fleeting taste
of each other's
eccentricities, like

chocolate flowers
on the finest of pastries,
melting full bloom in ones mouth,
as sweet as the finest summer day...

then gone.

so few things get under my skin. though somethings surly do. using a plant as an ashtray. or putting the milk away, without leaving enough left over for cereal. not all these things in a bad way: one of the most notable would have to be how you always combined your "shrugs with a smile," the indian name i would secretly give you if i had the time to do so. and sense you refused to apologize for a single one of your foibles, i fell in love with them one by one. but not in a comfortable way. but rather like a bandaide being pulled off so slowly that the wound was healed by the time it got there. you always wore your downfalls like a dress i'd take you to dinner in, but which you refused to wear out. i long for the day when i might see it again...commenting on how beautiful you look.

PERIPHERALS

i could understand you know,
if you told me.

how you can
try and love
a family man,

without the time to make one of your own.

the world is always going on without us,
traveling, buying cars, having children, as
proof that they exist.

you can always tell when
someone cares for you, if
they neglect to mention
caring for someone else.

TOURIST

i'm a tourist everywhere i go.

even at home
i'm always looking up.

the sky won't wait
for approval
turning from blue
to a pumpkin colored warmth
on a dime better spent

on a head tilting up
to smile.

i spent an entire season
on a mountain side,
getting to know

each tree by name,
flower by scent,
rock by shape.

i remember how it changed
the texture of my personality,

smoothing the edges
of who i was
until all confusion had left.

so with eyes closed
and arms outstretched
i too, was part of the forest's canopy.

casting shadows on unknowingness
shedding light on things to come.

WALK

stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.

the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.

everywhere i've been gets reminded

heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm

so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,

a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.

WHOA-ES-ME

...i guess a blog is as good of a place as any to do some simple bitching and whining. and although it feels shallow and wrong to complain considering my life, i suppose everyone needs a good vent from time to time. just as long as you readers understand i have no right doing it, being brought up right (for the most part), with an amazing family and a silver spoon so far away from my ass i had to shove it up there out of curiosity more than anything...and even then, in all honesty, i had to borrow a silver one from a friends house. with that disclaimer being said, let the bitch-ass-pouting begin...you spill the milk and i'll start the crying.
i've been having trouble as late trying to balance myself...or my thoughts for that matter. it's always been a struggle with me and is something i've grown to deal with rather than pretending it might be something that even could be fixed or cured all together. the way in which my mind works is part of who i am and i have certainly come to terms with that fact. but it's also a condition that i wouldn't wish on a snake. it's hard to describe...
my brain works fast. and when i say fast, i mean almost stupid fast. it's truly maddening at times. it won't shut up...at home, on the street, while i'm working, reading a book, listening to music, watching a movie, talking to a friend, playing the jukebox (sorry laura). IT JUST WON'T STOP. it's almost as if it doesn't belong to me to begin with...as if i could take it out and set it on the table and still be a normal person with regular thoughts and complete cognitive function. i guess i should clarify "regular thoughts" so that i don't sound like a mad man. it's not that i have irregular thoughts, or that they're dark and disturbed (excluding, of course, those blog entries which are nothing but "dark and disturbed"...they were suppose to be funny) it's just that all these things are going by at the same time at unimaginable speeds. and lately it's been getting worse...for example: when i go to talk someone new i either come across as a lobotomized freak barley able to form a complete sentence, or some mensa ridden prick on a soapbox talking down to everyone. neither one is actually me. working at the bar seems to help...trading in real conversations for quick flirtatious comments, but even then, the entire time i'm speaking consists of a completely separate and often times more clever response that would fly over the persons head if verbalized for real.
i've also recently noticed it in my poetry as well. those two extreme sides tugging at the middle. either my writing begins to rhyme (something i've never done before) or the free verse is so incredibly free it turns into a cryptic prose that sounds amazing but comes from a place so close to me...only i know what i'm talking about. here's an example.

stop the change
to darken streetlights up,
negotiate only once
with each type of beauty.

the air turns thick and sap like up,
with a backwards view of consumption.
a smile gets stifled in the giving...
the process of a sidewalk
mumbling softly to a shoe.

everywhere i've been gets reminded

heads turn swift on dimes
violently dropping
a sycamore from realizing
it's been paid
minimum wage. and i'm

so very sick of trying
i fail upwards,

a new promotion...with each one of my mistakes.

sounds great doesn't it? could you tell what the fuck i was talking about? didn't think so. anyway, i'm sure i'll figure it all out...self medicate in the garden, hide myself behind a pen or a tiny canvas. i'll find the balance the way i always do...but in the mean time...please forgive me for acting weird, talking fast or not at all. give me a hug when you see me next and i'm sure i'll be okay.

PETER PAN

...so i was watching the disney version of peter pan last night...the animated one...you know, 'cause i love watching disney movies and i don't have any friends. and i was feeling kind of down. i'm sure you've all had the feeling before from time to time, you just want to go out and collect a bunch of kittens to make you feel better. and then do something nice for them like building them a big wooden box you pant pink for them to play in out in the yard. and smile at there cuteness for a little while. and then you feel the need to put a 2-foot mettle bar right smack in of the middle of the box covered with milk and honey for the kitties to lick. and if you're like me, and feeling really motivated you step about 50 feet away, and play horseshoes until the meowing stops. anywho, it was that kind of mood. so there i was, alone in my bedroom, watching peter pan, drinking milk and i decide that i won't clap for tinker bell this time...you know...just to test it. i don't mean to burst anyone's bubble...but that bitch got up anyway. let me tell you...i was livid. and disney is going to get a pretty nasty letter from yours truly and a nice video of me playing horseshoes with the kitties. tah-tah for now....love matt.

here's a song i wrote...which isn't really special except for the fact that i've never written a full song before. bits here, pieces there...but never a full song with lyrics and everything. sorry that you can't hear it...but here are the words at least. it's called:

THE BLONDE/BRUNETTE

this ones for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
tastes just like the ocean

so many reasons i should leave
this towns no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name

and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name

i remember when i first met
my favorite blonde/brunette
i couldn't help but stair
said i liked your hair

we'd eat lunch once a week
at my work we'd meet
tasting sushi on your lips
everytime we'd kiss

and god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.

when love rains down
you hope it won't let up,
you hold out your heart like a paper cup.

god i love your name
god i love your name
god i love your name.

this one's for the blonde/brunette
i can't soon forget
the way the salt came off her skin
taste just like the ocean

so many reasons i should leave
this town's no good for me
only one reason that i stay
it happens to be her name.

and god i love your name.

FOR QUITE SOON I'LL BE GONE

take my heart
to the white river,

past otter creek
down the neshobie.

as my soul may breathe
through all save one, exhailing
the space for
conifer trees.

and what will become
of those rocks of mine
i've been shaping
smooth to set free?

take my heart to the white river
past otter creek, down
the neshobie.

let the places i've been
become all that i'm not
so all i have loved will be,

then take my heart
to the white river
past otter creek, to the
neshobie.

SUPER POWERS

...one thing to always try to avoid on a date is the conversation in which you have to hypothetically pick super powers. now i know what you're thinking, you're thinking "but matt, i've never been on a date in which i didn't discuss the aspects of hypothetical super powers. it's such a great ice breaker and i'm a giant nerd." i know you idiots, but i'm even a more big eristic nerd and more awkward than any of you will ever be. i'm just trying to tell you the way it is. this seemingly obvious conversation which always comes up on all of my dates is a time bomb waiting to blow any false cool and pretend mystic you've managed to muster in the first place. you need to know that this conversation can be very revealing towards several aspects of ones inner being, giving clues to such things as personality, hair color, and even sexual deviancy.
for example: invisibility. who wouldn't love to be invisible? coming and going as you please, catching small prey for dinner, pushing a younger sibling down the stairs and blaming it on there down syndrome. but your date knows exactly what you'd do if you were invisible. look at her boobies and downstairs parts. sample the goods before desert even comes out. invisibility equals pervert.
the gift of flight...a no brainer right? wrong. you're thinking about flying around with the birds in absolute freedom, breathing in of the clouds, stopping global warming. but your date is thinking other wise. she can totally picture you robbing the astronaughts of there space bucks. and you'd be smart to do it too, you can get a dollar seventeen for mars money down here on earth. sleazy thinking dirt bag. you're just another flyboy gone bad in her eyes.
"what about super sonic speed?" you ask. dude, guys finish way too early enough as it is. try pleasing a woman when you shoot in your pants moron. god! who are you anyway? reading this shit right now. obviously a dumb-dumb face if you thought super sonic speed.
the only real answer to even possibly give would have to be fresh breath. what? what did you just think? not a super power? try telling that to your new arch nemesis stank-tooth. plus you end up saving a ton of money on tic-tacs.

WRITERS NOTE: and you people wonder why i don't have a girl friend. 'cause this is the shit that goes through my mind at an alarming rate every single minute of every single day. super powers? where do i even get this shit? could you deal with it? i certainly can't. i mean seriously, this is what happens when i start sitting down at the ol' puter (that's slang talk for "com-puter"...get it? probably not...idiot). when is this going to stop? love you all, matt.

THE CONVERSATION THAT I HAD WITH A YOUNGER VERSION OF MYSELF

"in a field, i am the absence of field. this is always the case. wherever i am, i am what is missing." -mark strand

it was somewhere between may and june because i remember either the mayflies being late or the june bugs being early. but the whole place buzzed with life. it was the time of year when the dusk had just relearned to argue against the coming of the night. you could tell because the dead oak tree at the far end of the field silhouetted against the sky like heaven's windshield had been shattered. and i remember the wheat rolling with the wind. how i loved to watch it roll. it complemented my mood. swaying like a metronome to an ancient rhythm long since forgotten. a whispered cadence that only nature knew. grasshoppers jumped in step as if mortar rounds were soaring to unknown foxholes. a quiet war for a beautiful day. and let's not be mistaken...it was that kind of day. perfect and serene, somewhere out the pages of robert frost. it was the vermont i had grown up in. the vermont where i'd spend my life.

underneath that giant oak sat myself, seven years old and unassuming. what else to do but make introductions? i walked slowly taking in what i could, breathing the air, and feeling the stalks flirt against my thighs. i remember whipping my palm across both lashes of my eyes; clearing out the pollen, brushing daydreams from my mind. as i rounded the tree and came up next to myself i remember how unassuming i looked, how innocent, like i hadn't a care in the world. my whole life was ahead of me and i just sat there with a blade of wheat in my hand swiping it across my knee like it was my job. as if the whole world would end if i took a breath and stopped to look around.

"hi." i said with a surprising weakness to my voice, "mind if i sit down?"

he didn't look up but stopped playing with the wheat, then paused for what seemed like an eternity. "sure." he said, "i've been waiting for you." He spoke slowly and deliberate, strange for a boy of his age.

i brushed off my jeans and leaned quietly into the tree sitting down beside him. "how did you know i was coming?"

"because there was something you wanted to say." he never looked up. just out and into the distance, eyes fixated on the horizon as if waiting for something that was bound to come shortly. and he never stuttered or hesitated. his voice rang out; young but clear, awkward but full of confidence. and suddenly i wondered what i possibly could have to say.

"i guess i just wanted to tell you what it's going to be like when you grow up."

"oh?" he said with a strange candor to his tone. I remembered how he grimaced, looking down with his eyebrows raised, chuckling to a joke that he’d never share and one that I wouldn’t understand if he did.

"it's not like it is for you now...it's" i hesitated, wondering how to explain to a little boy the complications that life had in store.

"how is it?" he snapped back…butting in the way I still do to this day.

"it's different.” I finally blurted out, “hard i guess. things get really complicated."

"complicated how?" this wasn't going how i planned.

"there are a lot more problems...serious problems that might be hard to figure out."

"but there's never such thing as a problem without a gift wrapped inside." he said as if he'd been rehearsing it for years.

"what do you i mean?" i asked, surprised at what my younger self had to offer.

"we create our problems because we need their gifts. we need to learn from how we fail." i knew he was right but couldn't be sure how to respond. "why did you come here?" he added slowly but brimming with force and self-assurance.

"um...to talk to you about getting older."

"do you like yourself matt?" he asked.

"what do you mean?"

"do you like who you are?...it's a simple question." his words where so clear but there was still that childhood lisp that took away from there meaning. I swallowed back a laugh while digesting his phrase. The words rung clear but they took longer than usual to sink in.

"of course i do." i said finally, as sure of myself as ever.

he looked at me and smiled. his young eyes fixating upon mine with the familiarity of a mirror but with the strength of an untouched knowledge. "then this conversation is over,” he said, “I’ll see you when I get there."

he sat there with a strange smile on his face, staring off into the distance...so in love with the world that i knew never to disturb him again. i smiled too, and fell softly back to sleep.

...it never made sense to me in all those so called "scary" movies where someone gets clubed over the head, placed in a brown burlap bag, and thrown in the back of a trunk. 'cause 9 times out of 10 they get brought up into the woods. i'd be all like, "darlin', i know we don't know each other very much but you've got everything i've ever wanted in a woman. strong, mysterious, you have a car which is always a plus, you brought me to the woods (one of my favorite places, and you're creative enough to hurt me at the beginning of our relationship instead of towards the end...do you think i can get your number before you do me in?"

dear matthew j,

seeing how you've asked me several times if you could post my letters to you on your blog and have always been rejected, i thought, "hey, i'll just write you one that you can post." not that you have to (it might turn out to be an awful letter, i did just start writing it) but you have my permission if you want to. just don't use my name okay? who knows what kind of whack-jobs read that thing. i should know right, i'm certainly one of them, what does that say about the thing?
first of all, i'd like to thank you for your kind words towards me and for sharing the fact that you think i know you better then anyone. it meant a lot to me considering how you're one of the most complex people in the history of the universe, i took it as a compliment. just as long as you know that by 'complex' i mean 'boring' and by 'universe' i mean 'apartment'. which isn't really fair seeing how i've never met your roommates. perhaps it's just safer to say that i find you pretty damn cool, just don't let it go to your head.
as for your problems with the panic attacks and your refusal to take pills, i can't really help you there. i'd love to tell you to stop hanging out around so many people but i secretly know that you don't hang around with anybody and actually don't have any friends at all (you know what i mean). so what should you do? i don't know. just keep on keeping on. i do find it hysterical that you could address the entire population of this planet from behind a microphone or a bar or on a stage without so much as breaking a sweat, but freak out at a table with my friends without 17 jack and cokes. i don't mean to pick on you so much matt but it's ridiculous. ted always refers to you as the introverted extrovert and it makes me laugh.
since you didn't mention any trouble with the girls in your last letter i can only assume that all is well on that front. and by that i mean totally fucked as always. how are you not married yet? or at least with someone? dating for christs sake? (my mom would kill me, lords name in vein) is it still that #!?!%$# girl again? the one who couldn't comprehend that the greatest guy on earth just gave her his heart and she was too fucking stupid to know what to do with it? when are you going to get over that shit sweetie? it's been years right? it's time to move on mr. marro, she's obviously not as great as you thought she was. and the next time i come to burlington you'll have to remind me to kick the shit out of her. you're a catch matt and you know it. now don't let that adorable head of yours get too too big, but the last time you came down to visit both teressa and molly thought you were hot, smart, and funny as all hell. and they're right, because you are (after 17 jack and cokes of course). and let me tell you something about women...that's all you need to get them. so start getting back out there and get yourself one. you know that i would do you myself if it weren't for the hubbie. but he is leaving next weekend and if you want to come down...just kidding. not about the fucking you thing, but about ted leaving next weekend. but he likes to watch anyway, so maybe there's a chance.
anyway, i'm on my lunch hour and have to get back to work so i have to wrap this up. i love you so much sweetie. keep smiling and things will work out for you soon, i promise. let me just leave you with some quick thoughts and tips to catching the future bride:

1.) get over moron girl, she doesn't know what she's missing.
2.) stop being so picky, not everyone is as wonderful as me :)
3.) stop lying your ass off on dates. just because you and i find it hysterical when you tell people that you race dirt bikes, it doesn't mean that she will.
4.) when you actually find someone that you like, you have to stop spoiling them rotten. most girls get scared when they're treated like royalty.
5.) you have the biggest heart in the history of the world. seriously, you know you do. the thing must be gigantic. remember, hardly anybody gets your sense of humor at first. i myself fucking hated you for like a year straight in high school until you ran in front of the car to save the neighbors cat. girls won't get the chance to see that kind of stuff if you start talking about jews and killing babies with a perfectly straight face. so you might want to turn it down a notch. at least at first.

okay, my hand hurts and my writing is starting to get sloppy. i'm done now.

i love you matt,

#$!*&%?

the greatest books ever are being turned into (what will soon be) the greatest movies ever! read them before it's too late. they make harry potter look like curious george. here's a link to the trailer: http://movies.yahoo.com/movie/1808718640/video/2778562/standardformat

SUMMER

...and any outside
cafe on church street will do

for watching people.
keeping amused as the martini

i'm drinking plays a game
to find me;

cold.
warm.
warmer...i drink it slow.

the dry vermouth
has a sense of humor
and a personality all its own.

unlike the owner
of those perfect breasts
the corner of my eye flickers to.

it's a good martini
and i'm being judgmental

less bitter
though just as salty...

i'm always thinking of you.

HUG A TREE

ahhh, back to the world of the living for the time being. and let me tell you...it sucks! is it wrong that i've had better conversations with trees than i've had with most people? i'm really not even sure what that means...but it's true. i feel like i just can't relate. for all the time i spend in the woods i always dread coming back. and end up wondering "why did i leave?" i end up being this little circus monkey that people come to see and pay huge amounts of money to spend an evening with. "matt's working the bar tonight, he'll make sure i have fun." and i do...time and time again. blast terribly amazing tunes from the stereo. dancing and laughing and saying wonderfully insightful things like, "well, if you don't love that person...you probably shouldn't be with them anymore." "wow! they all say....you're smart!" "no...i'm afraid not...i'm sober and you're a moron." why do i do this? 'cause it's my job. pushing the last legal drug onto the masses while they soak it up and fornicate all over the place, making stains, stealing my mojo, and sucking out my last shred of dignity as well as my will to live. i think i'm going to have to find a way to camp all year 'round. teach kids and play in the woods for pennies a day. sure, i'll be poor. but i'll be happy. and when i can't afford the kemo to save my cancer ridden body from almost certain death...i'll die with a smile and talk about how i'll become part of the soil cycle, giving nutrients to the earth for new life to grow.

EMBRACE

-for ninette


a real hug lasts
past the point
of feeling awkward...settling

in a place where
the scent of fabric
brushes softly off to skin,

leaving only introductions behind.
a sort of protocol for the kind
of comfort
that can make a body sigh,
to cause the breeze to moan,
or the night sky deliriously flicker.

arms should never wrap
out of obligation, but rather without
the intention
of ever letting go again.

hands press firmly against the back
inviting the rest of the world to stop...
and maybe even turn its head

then try to follow suit.

things slow down in time
the way everything tends to do,
blurring lines between all else out
for the rhythm of a heartbeat

multiplied by two.

backstage for warmth
exhalation waits patiently

until, at long last

its cue...

to take center stage
before being asked

to finally start breathing again.

hi...

Dear Sons,

Saw Grandpa today and he's up but somewhat disoriented. He knew both Kevin & I, was sitting up and they had him walking as well. He's pretty weak and can't figure out how he got there. Presently he has no memory of the day he fell. He had tests that all came out negative and his blood alcohol level is down. He has to get stronger, hook up with his own doctor and be sure his environment is safe. Right now we're exploring 24 hour home care - but we're in early exploration right now.

Gramma is drifting in and out of memory loss - with confusion as well. She knows she can't take care of him right now but is aware of the criteria that needs to happen before he can get out of the hospital. Fantasy and reality are far apart for her right now!

I'm holding up since Kevin is here...he returns to VT Thursday and I'm trying to consider all the options for these two elders.

I'll keep you all posted and send me kind thoughts and ideas.

Love your MOM