Oh, no! Not again.

It's been some years since I've written poetry. Poetry, like my fiction, only comes when I find the inspiration. But the inspiration to write poetry only comes when I meet a woman with an exceptional quality of attraction, or, simply, with exceptional qualities. Yet, as I suspect for most all poets, any inevitable -- or possible liaison I've ever known with such women always leads to disaster.

 

It is not that these women are bad, or that they are all users, abusers of the hearts of sensitive men. No, some of them were wonderful. And I'd not even had sex with all of them. So, we can't say that these women were at fault, if there is fault, for the misery, albeit exquisite, I've experienced.

But I'm in an odd state these days. Now in my forties, I feel as if I've begin life over since getting out of my last long-term relationship. I feel, in very short order, I'm passing through a new life, or through life all over again. Through circumstance, I'd gone through a period of living with mom, I'd lost my "virginity" to a sweet, though spoiled, twenty-something girl, & I've been going through the mill of difficulty finding work & mediocre jobs. But, to be fair, I have recently found a really good one.

More importantly -- this time round -- I'm experiencing emotions either I've never known, or, of those I had known in the past, to a much greater degree. They're beginning to come to the surface far more frequently than I've ever known. So, I'm meeting new people. Unlike my past life, these people are really fantastic. I'd felt I was in an intellectual wasteland all those years, only rarely meeting any people of quality with intelligence &/or talent.

Recently, through my best friend, I've met a couple of really fantastically intelligent & artistic women. They would once have been veritable oases in the wasteland I point out above, but are now, coming to my notice more. I could certainly find some level of happiness should either of these two women seriously condescend to involve themselves with me on more levels -- one of whom has repeatedly asked me to marry her. Yeah! Me. I find it difficult to think her serious, of course -- what she would want with the likes of this stumbling twit, I can't possibly fathom. But the point is that -- despite my worthless view of myself -- there's apparently something about me that's attractive to others.

Why, even yesterday I'd met & flirted with another really sweet, & beautiful twenty-something from NYC. Her body language & words implied that she wasn't repelled by this old fart flirting with her -- she'd even lent a hand when I'd continually fumble over words to keep her from running away pulling her hair in despair. I doubt I'll ever see her again, but it could be nice.

This brings me back to my composing poetry. Few women in my life have ever had the power to act as muse. I've tried with many women. Unless I really feel that inspiration, the words are painfully strained & the verses mediocre at best. But I am now in contact with a new muse. She is beautiful -- naturally; she is capable -- as one would hope; she is sweet & kind; she is Beauty in all Her forms...you see, I'm thinking of her now in terms of poetry.

It doesn't help that she is of a heritage, possibly first generation American, of which I have been desirous of pursuing that life-long embrace for long & painful years as well. It doesn't help that she speaks Spanish & thinks my plan to move to Chile is "...So cool". Why does this not help? Because, as I've known all too many times, I firmly believe this, will lead only to a fit of despair greater than I've ever known of unrequited love.

Yes, she too is a twenty-something. I don't necessarily believe that twenty-somethings are my downfall any more than I feel she or any other woman could love me longer than it takes to become aware of my darkest demons & acute paranoia. Don't all initial attractive qualities in another become the bane of one's existence at some point?

I know no solution. One -- artists in particular -- cannot turn emotions on & off at will. Perhaps she will bring me to a new phase of material. This is the most likely result of my having been brought into contact with her, as I can't believe even the possibility she could feel any attraction to me. I will have to content myself with how beautiful she is & how much I want her when she reacts with such embarrassment over my flirtations & compliments.

Why am I forever doomed to the lack of attainment of such? Why am I forever thrust forth into desire which I cannot have? And why must there be so many years between this perfect expression of the Goddess & myself?

One would think that no matter how pagan this Zen Buddhist is, I could learn not to be so very effected by things I know intellectually can simply never be.

Now, where did I leave my Asana? Anyone seen it? I remember leaving it right "here" not long ago....