poem: nothing to do with love

Surprise me. Go ahead.

Pick-axe and pole-ax your way through this glacier,

cross this continental divide

we are but modern day nomads

and I am not afraid to love. Not any more.

show up at my door like a real Latin lover-

complete with rose between your teeth

and mariachi backup and fireworks

(yes there must be fireworks)

and children playing soccer in the streets behind us

bring me chocolate, but do not stop there:

eat it with me, dip your fingers in everything,

get drenched. get messy-

take me down off this damned pedestal

and throw me onto the mattress

on the floor

or even bend me over the table but for the gods' sake

when you plunge, go deeper than anyone before you

meet me more than halfway-

let my energy overpower and empower

and submit to yours.

I have never met a Latin man who is not wounded;

who is not vulnerable in some heartbroken way,

there is no excuse to hold back

we are all victims, we have all been played

we all know how to keep score

we forget that score keeping has nothing to do

with love.

I am ready for the one to take this hand

meet this gaze; whisper to the princess in moonlight,

court the intellectual in aisles,

hold the scared little girl when wolves howl

and make the w***e submit in sunlight-

I am a strong woman, I do not need, nor ask for

all that is yours,

but I do need entrance

to your inner space, and I need a touch of the sacred

in my days- and a bit of the profane

in my nights

and above all, I beseech you:

give me the wonder you carried

like a broken childhood treasure...

and let me mend it and plant it and tend it

and gaze at its development in joy

in some field with you

alongside my own, which you plant for me;

like pioneers, we shall call this,

our incredibly humble and small

taming of the wilderness, simply: Home.

Author's Note

translated into Spanish here: http://www.writerscafe.org/writing/zorra_encantada/1352704/

Reviews

[Horizon K.]

...or even bend me over the table but for the gods' sake
when you plunge, go deeper than anyone before you
meet me more than halfway...

Goodness woman, I love how you just say it! Raw and real and no holding back. I've always admired the freedom with which you wield your voice, your words, so ultimately-- your heart... Whether you are reaching for the beautiful or the profane... But this home, is all beauty... Powerful...

[Marie Anzalone]

Horizon, if we cannot be authentic to ourselves in poetry, where can we be? What would you ask for if you were allowed to ask for any desire you wanted? Given permission?? I look at some writing as me askign myself for permission to want, to define what I want... to ultimately set intent. I think we as women maybe need that reminder sometimes that it really is ok?

[Horizon K.]

You are right, the permission we may most often need, is from ourselves ... To look within and ask the question, and allow the answer, whatever it may be, as long as what we surface with is the truth... It can be devastatingly hard though, for what if you find you have been denying yourself something essential, all along...

[h d e rushin]

even Plath was afraid to admit to her desires. No one, in her unargued genius, gave to her
permission to want. At least, not out loud. And it is overpowering, inborn and native when
witnessed. This poem is characterized by a costant minimum or maximum boiling point
which is lower or higher than that of any of the components. This final stanza left me breathless.

dana

[Marie Anzalone]

You know, Dana, one of the biggest differences I see between Latin litareture and US literature is acceptance of sexuality.. especially in regards to female sexuality and its connection (or lack thereof) to love. In a US novel, if a woman has anal sex, she spends 5 pages justifying and apologizing for her depravity, and there is a brief paragrach full of euphemisms describing the act in vagueish terms. In Latin literature, they just have anal sex, and it is either done right and they enjoy it, or not, and they do not. Marquez has a female character who sucks a pacifier to get off, and you get the sense the passage was wrriten from someone's personal experience. Allende has a strong female character who followed her lover to another continet essentially for liking the way he fucked her. And here we sit continuing to treat our young women as though sexual satisfaction were something dirty and shameful and definitely in the realm of what the man desires from her... not something she is in control of demanding from her one-night stands, lovers, or long-term partners. I happen to think it is an important and worthwhile topic for consideration, and therefre worth writing about my own desires, complicated as they may be, as an example.

[h d e rushin]

so true Marie, who knows the true "voice" of sex (or sexuality) in american literature? And this is due to
the vaguest pornographic culture in our generalized thinking. What I mean is that, in pornography
the overiding theme is that there is a woman somewhere (existing) teaming with sexual desire
that a man gets to pleasure himself with...And that woman wants it, at any cost, right this minute. That this thematic structure exists at all, be it weak or valetudinarian, pushes the telling
of the sexual story to the online chat rooms or to the heroic conquest theorems of the America
male psychosis. In other words, no such female animal exists. Never did..Never will.

And it is an important and worthwhile topic my friend. That sex, the literary topic, be liberated right
along with the desires of the person. your a great writer. Love always, dana.

[Ghost of Jupiter]

Wow... exactly... I can't express how perfect this is... every piece of it from the idealization of love being broken down into the gritty passion of lust... to the opening of hearts and past wounds to be healed with compassion and respect. All of the wants and needs we have to create a home within each other...we need a little bit of it all, don't we... Absolutely loved this. Fantastic write!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much, Kalypso, for taking the time to read and review. I think you nailed exactly what I was trying to say when you wrote, "create a home within each other." That is it, perfectly expressed. You really get it. I appreciate your words tonight.

[Rick Puetter]

Dear Marie,

One rarely sees such an outpouring of the soul. You lay yourself bare. However, this is one of the traits of your poetry and why they are so engrossing to read.

So what is my reaction? I see the deep desires of your soul, and while you understand that we men are also wounded and deeply scared, and you are willing to grant some account for this, your desires are so demanding. We men must push this aside, take command, let unstoppable passion flow, and sweep you up. Yes, this would be a deep and pure sharing, and so desirable, but so hard to achieve in practice. I aspire to be such a man. I fall short. There are too many life distractions to reach this level of purity.

This is such an engaging poem. The power is there and undeniable. Ah, if only this could be achieved. This can happen in poetry and perhaps that is why poetry has such an attraction for me. But can this be achieved in life? Not with your hoped-for amount of success, I fear. Nonetheless, it is a noble and life-fullfilling goal. When we see something close we should grab it. The art of life is to know how close this needs to be before grabbing it, and not striving for, and never finding, something closer to one's ideal.

I salute you and your poem. I think you have distilled, and then crystalized, the desires of a woman that truly knows herself. May you find that man strong enough to push aside his wounds, and step up to share the wonders of your inner strength and soul.

A very rare 98% rating. I have never given higher.

All my best, Dear Lady!

Rick

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Rick. If the poetry does not challenge me, as a person, how can it possibly have an impact on my audience? I often write to push my own boundaries as much as for any other reason- and through that, to set intent. I find so often we do not act with intent. We move randomly, trying to fit circumstance into our mold... instead of learning how to have just a little more influence over our circumstance. If I do not define what I hope for, I will nor recognize it when it knocks on my door. And you know what? I may be a hopeless romantic fool... but I really am hoping it does knock on my door with a vulnerable heart and a rose clenched between its teeth. Because, well, damn. That combination is hot, hot, hot!

[Rick Puetter]

I love your attitude towards life. It's the only way to have a chance at getting what you really want.

[W.k.kortas]

The title certainly suggests this would be an anti-love poem, and perhaps it is in the sense of putting the lie to Disney/faux Victorian (after all, who had more pornography than the Victorian Age?) concept of the completely chaste and courtly. I believe (and I suspect the title is more than a bit ironic and tongue-in-cheek) that it has everything to do with love, or with everything that has everything to do with love, examining it on all its planes from the most earthly and earthy to the idyllic. It's not only a wonderful concept wonderfully played out, but it's well-built to boot. This is some fine, fine writing.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Kortas... I amy have missed the mark with my title on this one. In fact, I changed it twice. It is entirely in reference to the line that "score keeping" has nothing to do with love. I am ending a relationship with a "scorekeeper," and this has been on my mind a lot. The rest of the poem, yes, has everything to do with developing lasting romantic love. I do so appreciate your wonderful complimentes on my work here.

[ChemicalMadness]

you've captured so much here....so very personal, but you managed to make it as relatable as it is personal. while the whole of the piece was very good, the idea that i felt made it exceptional was the concept of home...hard to explain, but it really wrapped up all that you had to say and gave such clarity to all the lines preceding. well done.

CM.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, CM. I find the concept of home to be something very lacking at least in my own history... always having had a strong desire to settle and create a community and being forced to leave each time I starte dto settle in... living like a nomad for many years. "Home" to me is some precious concept that involves a great deal of nurturing and presence and patience... and thus, I feel is often lacking in the US culture.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

two battered and broken hearts can learn trust...can bend each other over the table and get over the past pain...be unafraid to find home again.

wow, this is such a good poem...the wording really engaging.

jacob

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, jacob. Do you really think it is a matter of "learning" trust? I have always seen it as something I either choose to do or not do... and try my best (I admit all too often unseccessfully) to follow my intuition on this topic. I see it more as a question of courage than of learning, but maybe you see something different?

[jacob erin-cilberto]

yes, i do...trust either happens or not the first time...but when it is broken...it is something we can learn to do again..with help from a trustworthy partner...
anyway...i have had to relearn it several times...so yes, from my perspective...

but not the same for everyone, i am sure.

[jacob erin-cilberto]

and actually i think the learning isn't necessarily conscious learning...more subconscious.

[Marie Anzalone]

I cna get behind that, jacob. I still find, in the end, it truly is a leap of faith that you have to force yourself to take. Thoughtful discussion.

[Tree]

When I read a poem, and it feels as if you can actually hear the voice, breathy, standing in the same room, what does that mean? I've been fortunate lately to read such poets, Hear, such a poet... It is happening again.

An extraordinary voice.

[Marie Anzalone]

thanks for your kind words, Diego. I try to make my work a dialogue rahter than monologue... ahrd to do in a poem. I am glad you "heard" this one aloud. It was exactly the effect I was striving for.

[Tree]

I miss your voice. This piece in particular was as clear as your Guatemalan skies, rainy season, notwithstanding. It got me thinking, really, why poetry should be taught, maybe even mandatory, along the lines of other required courses. I say this not as a lover of poetry, but as lover of clarity, of expression.

People should know how the person next to them feels, and should be trained to express themselves in beautiful ways, even, when the subject matter in a negative. I'll take my bad news in clear, concise, and beautiful language. I'll take served in Poem.

Note: This does not include long winded rants that serve only to confuse, though, I know it is a part of the art. mine, included.

[Marie Anzalone]

ah, my friend, how I have missed your voice, as well. For you push me into deeper realms and shove me into flight when I am terrified of heights. I agree that clarity of expression; vocabulary, nuance, innuendo, intent- these things are lost on the tone-deaf multiples who have lost the art of subtelty in interaction. Your proposal may just be the answer we seek. I wish so fervently that poetry, art, music- were not seen as "non-essentials" in schools. They are not subjects; they are life skills. Relationship builders. Agents of change. Maybe that is why authoritarian regimes move further and further away from real poetry, and mor eand more towards happy confrmist work or the work only of poets long dead and buried?

[Corset]

perfect, in every way................................what more can I say, women want this.

[Marie Anzalone]

I do not know about all women, Corset. I know that I certainly analyzed carefully what it is that I actually want to say, and then tried to say it with intent. Maybe I tapped something universal in the process? it does happen form time to time... usually completely by accident rather than design, I must say. :-)