Truncation

Truncation

If there were time,
I would not have to worry about the .
I would not worry of the impending ,
if there were .

If I had more,
I would know never of time's ,
I would know never of its exacting ,
If I had .

If it shall take,
It will be a thing that I most ,
It will be a thing that prematurly will ,
If it shall .

How does it consume,
Precise and hollow and taking the ?
Precise and hollow we seem to conside its ,
how does it ?

-Matthew Koutzun

You're Driving Me:

You're Driving Me:

Driving me,
driving me towards the edge
a cliff that we scale
along side the sea.
Travelling wide,
across the edge
you hold me over,
even though you clearly can't hold me.

You're driving me,
across paths
I should not cross,
but I follow just to finally know.
Taking me back,
even when you've dropped me
I arch
I fly back up- float.

Drove over
my spirit,
inflicted my mind-
that I fall up.
Up forever,
but only to a ledge,
where you grasp-
grab on.

And you flew,
fly with me,
cause your the one
who was really, truly nervous of the edge.
And we'll take off-
a breeze-
how easy it is now,
now that we're:

crazy.

-Matthew Koutzun

It Came Down a Mountain.

It Came Down a Mountain.

Thunderous and wild,
it came down a mountain:
the one we visited each year.
Hoping to recluse our duties.

Famous and wreckless,
it came down towards me,
it's decline- it's fall,
barreling down like the Niagara.

Steadfast and brave
it blew right past me,
picking me up,
in it's frozen arms.

It came down a mountain,
swift and blurred,
burning cold to my eyes.
How it blindsided me that day?

It took me
under it's folds,
like a blanket
suffocating- strong.
What was under,
held me longer,
and tighter,
than you ever have.

Weak and destroyed,
I climbed out of it's wake,
waking,
knowing the deed had been done.

Tired and frail,
I knocked on our door,
it opened,
on the first rap.

Limp and sleeping,
you sat
in front of our fire.
The embers almost to ash.

Sullen and quiet,
I take from your lap,
the bottle;
its contents you drank to forget.

And you stir,
and you waken,
and you've been watching
all night:
knowing what comes down the mountain.
Knowing that it moves
fast on the breeze
and it'll break you onto your knees.

Crying and clinging,
your salt tears on my legs.
I can't feel them
through all of these clothes.

I bend down,
and we struggle,
and your nails dig right in,
though, only words you use.
And I try to change things,
by clutching your pants- pulling down:
the way these struggles
used to be.

It came down a mountain,
now "it" becomes "you",
and instead of taking
it leaves me beneath: cold.

-Matthew Koutzun

In the Telling

In the Telling

"It's all in the telling,"
they told her.
Told her:
everything to tell is around
you.
She asked:
you never have to look
inside yourself?
"No- never. A world to yourself
you most are not."
"But best by me:" she said,
"in all honesty of telling-
it's never the tale,
but always the teller."

-Matthew Koutzun

The villain

The villain

I imagined you stranded,
locked out of your place.
What a terrible thing to conjure-
but I helped you on the bus,
and took you to my home: onward.

I feel the hero,
saving you from a despondent night,
wading through the alleys in the dream;
never knowing when you could be taken
away from me.

I walk you in, I think,
or perhaps you naively lead the way.
And we talk and the night progresses-
refusal,
and now I the captor, rest in eases.

But I helped:
that be my reason.
Say what you will but my logic is fair.
It is you sweet light, without thought,
who wandered into my lair.

This was just an image-
but now you walk up to me;
rain tearing your hair to your skin.
I do not know, if tonight I can be the hero,
but I will volunteer the villain.

-Matthew Koutzun

"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