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From: derek
Date: Thu Jul 1 17:04:12 MST 2004 Subject: Love Poetry

Responses
derek: Remembering (7/2/04)
derek: A Love Poem (Starts When I Am Old) (7/2/04)
derek: Flowers Self-Conscious at a Ranch (7/2/04)
Responses (sorted by date)
derek: Flowers Self-Conscious at a Ranch (7/2/04)
derek: A Love Poem (Starts When I Am Old) (7/2/04)
derek: Remembering (7/2/04)
Here are a couple of love poems I wrote recently. Sort of chain-of-consciousness stuff. They should prove just how "gone" I really am. Hopefully, if nothing else, they will amuse you.

-Derek

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From: derek
Date: Thu Jul 1 17:05:10 MST 2004 Subject: Remembering

Remembering
by Derek Hugen, 6-19-04

I could recall you once a year
remember you each day,
lay out a prayer mat for my knees
to rest them from bleeding
on the rocks. Your hair was
long or short, made tresses
over entrenched eyes that stared out,
hit stars just right like mirrors,
shone bright and all-knowing,
when omniscient is just a word
and no one gets the girl.
She just smiles, and it's like mace.
I'm on the floor weeping,
but, ten minutes later,
I can't even remember
your hair length or eye color,
all that crap you have to
know to write a poem. Otherwise
you just make it up. Hair is
a classroom. Roethke eyes. Bad
memory smiles that take out a city block
with destruction. And
you walk like math equations
or the color of the sky on nights
where the full moon looks down
from heaven from behind
the countless clouds,
and peeks to see me
sitting in a café, staring up
at it, remembering
you.

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From: derek
Date: Thu Jul 1 17:05:49 MST 2004 Subject: A Love Poem (Starts When I Am Old)

A Love Poem (Starts "When I Am Old")
by Derek Hugen, 7-1-04

When
I am old,
the world
will walk though the
broken stones of

our backyard,
like a lisping
giant
crackling through

all pretense
of free
will.

You
will be
a marketing ploy. I will

buy
you at half
price at the
super
market.

You will have
grown at
least four
feet by then. A caryatid

in marble. Flesh tones
with ivory. A steady face

with
pupil-less
eyes
That roll back
like

prices at Wal-mart
(Where
a baseball
mitt can cost only
seven dollars).

We
will track across
the yard
like hikers,

bellowing our
love status into
the green
grass we

tromp on, muddy
with our big galoshes,
oversized,
stuffed with
feet.

We
will make
small lakes with
plastic heels.

Rainwater will run downstream,
packing into rivulets
and rolling

down
our bodies like
massive balls of
mercury. We will run fast. We
will have

effigies of lightning
sticking
out
of our caps like feathers.

They will light up the
sky
at night

or
sometimes when the wind whelps
up into a
force
to be
reckoned with. Your lips

are solid mounds. They speak
proverbial
truth to rubies.
They sharpen wit.

When I am
old,
I will see you washing dishes in the window.

I will boldly smile,
pretend that I had something to do
with it.

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From: derek
Date: Thu Jul 1 17:10:29 MST 2004 Subject: Flowers Self-Conscious at a Ranch

Flowers (Self-Conscious) at a Ranch
by Derek Hugen

(The bees less buzz
in nights quarter
than the eye
is fat with love)

I saw her in
the entranceway
with red flowers fixed
on limbs

as in a race
her lips transcend
even the scent that
lingers

in the brisk night
I waited in the
long scenery
with the shadows that
make her hair dark

and I sprang up
clumsy
like a fool

danced between
black and white smiles
where words
don't intersect
with meaning

just sit there
looking at me
laughing blue rhythms
into the sky

like motion disappeared
and time
gravity
everything

but our eyes

and mine

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