"Poor Thing"

"Poor Thing"

Sorry,
I'm a man-
I had to objectify you.

-Matthew Koutzun

Objective (For Nanook)

Objective (For Nanook)

What he did to you was wrong-
putting you in front
of a lens as cold as the snow around you.

Your loving wife smiled to him,
the smiles she gave to you,
now given to the world as not yours but theirs.

You showed him everything-
well not everything,
but it was enough to make him your brother.

And what kind of brother,
says I,
would sit and watch while you died.

-Matthew Koutzun

In you- In them

In you- In them

When you told me, Father,
that:
all of them
have a piece of
you,
in all of them

I thought you meant
that they had the propensity
to do good.

They do-
but there is
more of you, you put in them,
than you thought:

They can do so much,
but do so little.
Break your back,
even when you look most brittle.

They give trials-
more than your own.
They don't battle for others-
only wage wars on their own souls.

But fate be funny:
neither of you came,
but you all showed up.

-Matthew Koutzun

Luarals

Luarals

Coast-
Boast:
You are the one who has the most-
almost.

-Matthew Koutzun

Striations (For Heather)

Striations (For Heather)

You marked me
damaged me in a way unrepairable-
taken me through all the ranks of hell.
But I know that you were with me,
and the marks are the striations
of being held too tight,
and you walked me out,
you made me into light.

-Matthew Koutzun

(Took me a while to write this one to you. Had to make it just right- even if it is just short...)

In the End

In the End

Fate has a cautious way of creeping up on one.
It does not move fast and swift in its motives.
It prefers to pace itself and move with dignity.
To take its strides even so it doesn't distract.

Fate will catch up with you my brother.
It will not run because that is not its style.
It has no use for our lovely thing we call time.
It will take its own when travelling its course.

Fate will always meet us in the end.
And we will find surprisingly it was there all along.
Fate will meet us at the cross roads again.
Because fate is not in our destination, but in our choices.

-Matthew Koutzun

Sixty- actually Nineteen

Sixty- actually Nineteen

On the bus
I found my adulthood.
I found my age had caught up with me.
I looked on
at a child barely seven,
holding a cellular phone.
He passed through the menus,
played the games like a star,
and I found a strange electrical talent in him.
And in me I found fear,
I found an odd panic that rose through me,
that gripped me for an instant
knowing that he would succeed me.
And there I found my adulthood:
trying to hold onto whatever niche I have found here,
fearing that in the future it will not be enough.

-Matthew Koutzun

Barterer

Barterer

Praying tonight
I knew it:
I knew my prayers would not be answered.

I don't know when I realized
that all my life,
I had been bargining with God.

Propositioning
and asking for things:
saying I would better
if He would only give me what I wanted in return.

I don't know when I realized,
that you can't bargin with God;
because it only seems to shame me more.

But God,
I'll stop,
if you give me forgiveness in return.

-Matthew Koutzun

For Her

For Her

I think of you often
and how it must feel

to sit-
and wait- and
wait

you probably sit there
I don't know
I'm not really an authority to say

It's scary
I think,
to sit there
and wait

For information
For time
For patience
For miracles

for how long he's laid there
you think he must be better
he must be

there's no reason for him not to be
be better
be it
come you fucking bastard
I know it's in you
you can't even sit up most days
you can't even speak
what is this for her
how does she sleep knowing that yours might be your last
how
How-

she tried to wean each moment
tries to drench it to its last with you
to find each thing before it gets late
and you're tired from a hard day

the days do get harder
they get harder
to try
but you know there is strength
strength in watching him
try

-Matthew Koutzun

Glass'

Glass'

I've seen you once before here
You've served me both times
I've ordered ice tea twice now
You've brought it to me both times
I don't think about you ever.

Why would I?

You walk to my table
Glass in hand.
I'm somewhere else
More over-
With someone else.

My brother jars me back to the table
I should be with them
You hand me my glass
Our fingers graze only
Slightly
On the
Edge of the glass
My pinky to your thumb.

I stiffen up
Everything stiffens up;
Everything.

This really frightens me.

I don't know you.
I never have.
I don't have emotions for you.
I never will.
Not even now.

But I'm Stiff.

It scares me that that
Slight
Touch
Took me so far.

This reminds me
Again
I don't know you.

I'm almost finished-
The ice tes I mean.
There are only the cold embers of ice
In the bottom.

A pessimist would say it was empty
But at the moment
I see a hopeful occurence
In my near future:

Would you like a refill?

Again my brother jars me back to the table
I should be with them
I hand her the promising glass
Our hands grasp seperate ends of the glass
Mine:
Slightly
On the
Edge of the glass
Yours: firm at its base.

I deflate
This promising moment wasted
I built myself up for
Nothing.

This frightens me again.

I don't know you.
But I've made you into something else
Something bigger
Something bigger than you should be.

You've grown.
Like a child.
I just wish I could let you go.
As all parents do.
So simple an attraction.

Here you go.

I am already back at the table
I am with them
You hand me my glass
Again our fingers graze
Slightly
On the
Edge of the glass
My pinky to your thumb.

I inflate
Nothing stiff;
Only a passing moment.

I don't know you.
I never have.
I don't have emotions for you.
I never will.
Not even now.

But I'm stiff.

I know I lied.
But a moment passed.
And like the next
It'll pass again.

-Matthew Koutzun

Anthem

Anthem

I'm writing the anthem:
a piece for all.
But one piece for many
never filled the masses.

A collective force,
one to be wreckoned with,
to divide
and bring together.

A responcibility;
a tangent built on solidarity-
one not built on me,
but of us all.

So,
what words to contribute
to now:
your anthem?

We could not all agree,
they're all there,
choose them all,
everything in the dictionary.

It'll cover all our bases.
It'll keep everyone in line.,
It will be our authority,
that we'll change over time.

-Matthew Koutzun

fluff

fluff

It woke up beside me,
Lying beside me.
It spent the whole night,
It never denies me.

fluff It up

It's always there
In the middle of the night.
I never argue,
It never fights.

fluff It up

It listens to my hopes and dreams,
And sometimes even my fears.
It lets me unleash all my urges,
And the choked back awful tears.

fluff It up

I hold it in my arms at night,
It's soft touch on my skin.
I love the soul It carries.
To describe It, where begin?

fluff It up

It lets me do whatever I want,
To It in the middle of the night,
Because It would never dream of moving,
Because in Its mind It knows I'm right.

fluff It up

I am grinding It.
I am pressuring It.
I don't want to do this,
Same things thought by It.

fluff It up

I am empty though,
It has emptied me.
It's an awkward silence.
How great immaculacy can be.

fluff It up

Immaculate It is.
Inanimate Its touch.
How great life can be,
When you only have to "fluff It up"

-Matthew Koutzun

Deconstruction

Deconstruction

I tried to build a tree,
out of glue and sticks.
Out of paper mache,
and I didn't do it quick.

I gathered each leaf,
to connect to each branch.
I was going to complete this marvel,
this was my chance.

I made each plank
reach deep in the ground.
I hammered so hard
the neighbors screamed:

"Stop that Sound!"

Then one day
after everything had dried,
it was complete.
A tear came to my eyes.

To look at it
was a perfect recreation,
but that was just it,
it was only a fashion.

For when I looked beside it
what did I see?
But the tiny sapling,
of a still growing tree.

It had so much potential,
to grow so tall.
To produce it's own,
it had it all.

So I looked back,
at my faux tree,
and realized:
there wasen't much to see.

I had created a monster.
Art has no life.
I had created a mould,
with no soul to hide.

I tried so hard,
to recreate,
that I never saw:
I gave my creation no fate.

So I started to deconstruct,
tore each branch from the helm.
This- thing- had no place,
I should not dwell.

It was all gone,
and all stood was me,
except for the tiny sapling,
of my still growing tree.

-Matthew Koutzun

Make

Make

This is calous.
This is irreplacable.
This is something you can't recreate.
But better still, it's something you can make.

-Matthew Kouztun

Rudder

Rudder

Plowing through still waters,
making a ripple,
directional and pivital,
ridged and sure.

River water solid,
a soft V moving away,
pulsing with direction,
widening with distance.

Fluid shores on side,
unbalanced grass,
unstable in motion,
constituted in further.

But trust my trusty rudder,
on the land which is the sea,
perhaps the solid river,
perhaps the fulid shore-
which shall it be?

-Matthew Koutzun