Knew It When I Was 4

Behind almost all human effort: an immeasurable primordial urge for union. But how to understand this urge? You can know things, as in successfully exhibiting the capacity to perceive their truth. Yet, a good dose of more life experiences may still comprise your destiny so as to cement the wisdom.

knew it when i was four
how things would be
the longing

her mother called
down the sickly pavement
dreary dirty dark
schisming the sky from the soil
tenements depriving us of trees
my sweetsoul too believing
to suffer
its weary pessimism

the voice once more
and just like that
her black hair flashing
she vaporizes off
a numberless door
in life’s restless tornado
leaving me astounded
at her unreachable
something we call beauty
because we cannot formulate truth

the love we want to blaze
outshines what life allows
incandescent one hour
obscured by maelstroms
the too soon next

knew it when i was four
in that longing, long and deeply
my worldly foot ensnared some moments
in that crevice composed of wanting
buried safely, germinating
a sweetness too commanding
to permit
mere pragmatism
to ever rule one’s life

and when i saw
those wed to stark reason
scurrying by bland efficiencies
irregardless my decade
i knew unthinking
how they presented
a mere fragment
even to themselves

so yes, a wisdom of sorts
doling out solace
in appropo droplets
whenever pined after unions
de-materialized in stark day glow
but still — an egoity respirates
buried secret in all naivete
gently hid inside dreamy innocence

and destroyed I would have been
I think
one more tuberculine romantic
displaced amok in a missing century
dissolutely dispersed
in a desolate disguised landscape
architected of passionate corpses
had it not been for a different seeing
finer far than fashioned eye-wise

knew it when I was four
a garden festooned with luscious dianas
gated portals dotting its periphery
which were difficult of passage
I pierced one once
taking aim with an outrageous arrow
selected from the surest quiver
a store safe kept in my keepsake heart
then I knew all longings as metaphor
all heartbreaks as journeys past saturn
all dianas as kindly companions
all possibilities I’d ever imagined
as paling
in the concealed glow of divinity


[ foto – moi@4 going on 5… mother was a stickler for appearances, she once told a story about how she needed to starch my shoelaces as they wouldn’t lay quite right… I didn’t carry on her fastidiousness legacy, though I find it sort of cute now looking back; no idea where the bowtie impetus came from, haven’t owned one since :)]

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  1. awww, luv little boys with bowties and any ties. How handsome they appear when in their finest. Like little men grown up, being dashing, thanks to fastidious mothers who want their little guys to impress.

    Impressive poem, too!


  2. “something we call beauty
    because we cannot formulate truth”

    I love the innocence portrayed. The photo sets the stage so deftly.
    The language, the wisdom, the vulnerability…they all conspire to make
    “Knew It When I Was 4” the masterpiece that it is.


    1. howdy EC, gee – it was nice to see you popping up in my inbox. 🙂 Suffering my biography, to answer you question… suffering my biography. There’s a lovely wild river coming down from mountains past my window, and I look at it now and then, the black running water peaking through little holes in the ice and rock and snow cover. It is 90% hidden, but alive and seething underneath. That is close to my feeling these days. Perhaps soon, I will resurface.

      And what of you, still at it? I suppose I can just go and see. 🙂 Thanks much for writing, EC. Have a kind bright day.


      1. pushed something new out… excreted it… see if it feels I can do it more regularly over next week or two… also will look back at some of your stuff from past year. a nice feeling, to have been missed, thank you truly.

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