In the vein of Ginsberg's epic poem "HOWL" I wrote a "because" poem in class. We were to take a sentence from our cut-ups exercise from the week before, and run with it...
With Dadaist flair, we covered an entire page with writing. The whole damn page. The way it should be. For twelve minutes, we wrote while William S. Burroughs ranted about poetry made from newspaper cut-ups ("When you cut into the present, the future leaks out," he warned.) Cut the page into 4 pieces, rearranged the order, and braced ourselves for the discovery of some jumbly/poignant/provocative phrases. Alas:
My eyes are a chaotic rush of emotion, and I feel empty and exhausted, like folklore fucked with my head.
because I just put everything into something that didn't give back.
because I've been living on coffee and cigarettes for the last two days.
because I used to think it was just a game and treated it that way.
because I wake from tireless sleeps knowing I dreamt all night.
because seeing isn't believing.
because I let you in.
because you've left an imprint, and everything is different now.
because I could get a prescription for this, but choose not to.
because you revel in raw emotion.
because nobody taught me how to do this in university.
because karma isn't instant.
because if I give you everything, I'm naked.
because this world's sadness weighs heavy on my heart and I feel it most when I feel yours.
because I hate the way people talk sometimes and wish I could shut it all out except for the smiles.
because I'm too far away from the mountains and the ocean.
because as soon as you think you know how it is, you discover that it isn't.
because I decided to meet you for coffee instead of going home.
because your mother hates me, even though she doesn't know me.
because I know it will all be over soon, and
because I find you more beautiful every day.
