And Love is Like (May 11, 2005)

Love is like
    a demon loan officer
    possessing and re-possessing
        my heart,
    demanding timely payments
        of imagination and memory,
    held at bay
        only by obscure signs
            of blood and fire.

And love is like
    a lion you find unexpectedly
    in your home.
You fling scraps of poetry-covered paper
    at it in a wild despair,
    hoping
        it will be delayed long enough
            for you to escape out the
                window.

Love is like a tornado,
    scattering your carefully arranged loneliness.

Love is your shadow.


-Jim DuBois

Oct 27, 2008

Caught up by desire,
suddenly afraid of a real yes
because of "what if?"


-JD

Down A Long River (Sept 16, 2008)

There's that far away place,
usually down a long river,
where you can dive off the rocks
and go for a swim,
but you don't know exactly where it is,
or how to get there,
only that it is wonderful and mysterious,
and you've been there many times,
at least in these dreams,
and it might not always be the same place physically,
but it has the same feeling,
the same empty watery feeling,
the same rocky primal feeling,
and sometimes it is the river,
and sometimes there's a powerful tall waterfall you are swept over,
or maybe jump over,
and sometimes it's a huge steamy bathroom
with tons of empty showers running
but it's really the same place somehow
and sometimes the showers are right near a pool
which is by a waterfall
which leads you out into the wilderness
and to that rocky diving spot,
or below an ancient temple,
and you're not sure if it's ominous there or not,
but you remember other times,
in dreams that are similar,
sliding down crazy water slides that go underground,
and swift-currented rivers you are propelled along,
and on and on,
until you wake up.


-Jim DuBois

Short Poems, Short Affair

All fucked-up
      and tender-hearted,
waiting for you to call

Long, open-hearted hours,
at the green bus stop,
      and in my dream-like room

I love you already,
I miss you
      even after one day

Real love is so simple
I don't have much to say about it,
      but I want to keep saying it

Confusing conversation -
you like me... but...
not ready right now?

All fucked-up
      and broken-hearted,
and wishing you were mine

I kissed you goodnight
I took that flower you gave me out of my pocket
I put your number back with all my other numbers


-JD

Spiderman Retires

I.

Spiderman retires
and takes up
watercolor painting
in the countryside
because he gets so tired
of all those tear-jerking moments
where his friend,
who was his enemy for a while,
dies after fighting off
the real bad guy,
who probably wasn't bad,
just misguided.


II.

Gandalf goes to therapy
and starts to realize
that the shadow of the past
is only a shadow,
and a ring is only a ring,
and even though he wishes
for a dramatic solution
to soothe his dark memories,
he starts to understand
that the best thing he could do
is live in the present,
and save Frodo and the other hobbits
a whole lot of trouble.


III.

Young Bruce Wayne
never becomes Batman
because some helpful social worker
realizes that Bruce just needs
to cry and cry
about his parent's death,
and explains that all his
dark fantasies of revenge
can never bring back
mom and dad.
Instead of growing up
to be a costumed vigilante,
Bruce becomes an artist.


-Jim DuBois

Mt. Tom (Sept 17, 2005)

Wandering in the remnants of time
the rotting tree trunks
the glacier-strewn rocks

Lost in the aftermath of the past
the decomposing leaves
the cracked basalt boulders

Even the new trees
root
in the bones
of their ancestors


-Jim

Stealing into your Heart (feb 28, 2005)

I wrote poems about love and longing,
I pined,
I schemed about ways to meet you,
planned what I would say
and how I might approach you.

It's all come to nothing so far.


Here's my latest plan:

You won't know me when I'm near,
because I will not notice you,
my eyes will glance over you to someone beyond,
I'll turn away,
look down,
keep walking,
but late at night
I'll return to my secret task:
digging a convoluted tunnel
to your heart,
bit by bit,
with a bent and rusty spoon
I stole from the cafe.

Any day now I'm sure to break through,
and stealthily enter
the chambers of your heart -
on tip-toe,
in socks,
breathing shallowly
and moving slowly.

I don't want to disturb anything,
I just want to see what it's like
to be in there.

Maybe I'd pause for a bit
and watch how you secretly
love the world
when you think no one else is around.

I might take a nap, too,
before I headed out,
because it would be so warm and comfortable.

The only things I'd leave behind
are a few tender kisses
in spots that wouldn't bother you
or disrupt your days,
a soft string guideline
to make finding my way back easier,
and a note
that said

  "Somebody loves you"


-Jim