Treighton Mauldin
LIFE NOT YET KNOWN
We’ve not met
But I know
I love you
I can feel your head
Nestled against
My chest
I can smell you
I lose myself
In it
I can see your face
Your dark eyes
The family nose
Your Mother's smile
But when you laugh
I know you
Because it's mine
__________________
OF FRIENDS AND LOVERS
Nothing lasts in this world
And it’s a damn good thing
Since I manage to fuck up
Every meaningless thing I try not to do
Even the good things,
And trust me
There aren’t many,
I manage to spill, or break,
Or irreparably disassemble
Just ask my friends
And they will tell you
How I’m not around
Just ask my lovers
And they will tell you
How I’m quick on the draw
Just ask my family
Actually if you see them
Just say hello for me
But make sure not to ask
Ones who are not too close
Because they will tell you
I am kind, and passionate, and talented
And we can’t have that
It’s a damn good thing
That nothing lasts
So that all these friends and lovers
Don’t have to live
With what I’ve done
______________________
LAUGHING AT THE PAST
I remember sitting with my mother, I was sixteen
and I thought that freedom was close enough to taste,
It was just after the sun had risen, before I went to work
I was drinking coffee; she was drinking wine from a box
Still drunk from the day before
Smoking cigarettes one after the other,
And flicking the butts into the grass
She would tell me how she was broken, and why
The stories never matched up, or made much sense
But I didn’t doubt that she was broken
Because I could see it in her face, loose and gray
with deep creases that seemed carved by unsteady hands,
and I could smell it on her breath always reeking of liquor and
ash
And I could hear it in her laugh
And I could hear it in her laugh
Some laughs are infectious; hers was,
But not in a good way; her laughter spread like a plague
Infecting my thoughts, and my dreams, and tearing them apart
Burying herself in the destruction, and feeding on it
like a parasite
I can hear it now, haunting me
And feeding on my sorrow, and on my mistakes
The ones that I make all too often,
telling me that I'm no different from her; that I’ll always be a
failure
Throwing back its head, spreading its dis-ease
And I can’t escape.
______________________
OUT OF THE SHOWERAnd dreaming
I stood there
Naked
Facing her
Still dripping
Bottle of red wine
In my hand
“Are you going to drink
Straight from the bottle?”
I lift the bottle
Let the smooth
Crimson liquid roll
Over my tongue,
Down my throat
Warming my soul
“Classy”
She says
I drink
What’s left of the bottle
And say not a word.
_____________________
THANK YOU
We are born Alone
And we will die Alone
I don’t remember where I heard that,
It’s true though
And we spend every moment of our lives
Looking for ways
To forget it.
Looking for ways
To forget
That none of “This”
Means anything
That none of us
Mean anything
The absurdity of life
I know it’s not original
It’s been done by all the greats
But I still look in vain
For meaning
In everything I do
Increasing my hunger
By reminding me
That I will never find it
So I’ll just keep living
Like I’ve been living
In the bottom of bottles
Falling in love, and on my face
And breaking bones
Trying to mend broken hearts
Living every day
Like it’s my last
Because I know it is.
_______________________
Our thanks to Treighton Mauldin for today's poems and pix! Treighton is a true California kid, with the childhood horror story to back it up—born and raised up and down California, from the Monterey seaside to a broken-down camper in a small Sierra Nevada mountain town, and many places in between. It's safe to say that stability and conformity are words that Treighton has never known, and continues to go out of his way to avoid. Treighton now lives in Oakland with his soon-to-be wife Elena and his unruly dog Falcor; look for him at the local bars with the scummy floors. Read more at treightonmauldin.com
And we have a new photo album on Medusa's Facebook page today: SPC Black History Month Reading by Michelle Kunert. Check it out!
_______________________
Today's LittleNip:
Poetry asks us to tell what lies masked within.
—B.Z. Niditch
_______________________
—Medusa
