whiskey- –of Gaelic and Old Irish descent meaning water of life
It’s like the letter you were expecting
but had forgotten
the dream you almost recall
upon waking
One day you are writing to yourself
to prove that you exist
the next day you are talking to someone
who doesn’t
How to talk to oneself
is a language all its own—
a message behind distorted glass
with the swell of the crumbling cork--
the skewed tongue that no longer fits
I have tried
translating myself into another language—
a new language that I might better understand
Translations are at best
like well-known paintings rendered
by unknown artists—
Impressionists-- every one of them—
always the colors just a little off
always something missing
In the wee green hours of the marnin’
In the pale blue hours of the morning
I weave forth and back back and forth
doing a poor imitation of me-self---
cutting a rug set in its own pattern
without a thread of light to add to my design
Today I received a letter in the mail—
no words only a blank page in an envelope—
handwriting slurred
a crooked stamp in the corner---
those suspicious wavy lines
No problem Pas de problème I say—
reaching for the real thing—100 proof—
my words turning up like drunken sailors
stumbling off the tongue…
I always read my poems sober
I always write my poems drunk
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A nominee for the Pushcart Prize and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, Antonia Alexandra Klimenko, is widely published. Her work has appeared in (among others) Maintenant : Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at the Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. and New York’s Museum of Modern Art. She has been the Resident Poet for SpokenWord Paris for seven years, now. Her poetry collection On the Way to Invisible is forthcoming in 2022.
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great poem. how to talk to oneself/is a language all its own
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