ADDRESS TO THE BIG VALLEY COFFEE HOUSE 11/30/90

 

Give me that paper

My head's on fire

Maybe if I can spread the fire to the paper

I can take away some of the heat

 

Give me that paper quickly

I have to stop the bleeding

Use it as a bandage

And when the blood dries

 

The imprint will tell the story of the wound

In impressions clear and bold

Or in splotches and stains

 

Now don't get me wrong

If I bled all the time I'd be dead

 

It would be easy to mistake

A pile of bloody bandages

For a history of protracted agony

 

But just like the proverbial squeaky wheel

Only negative traces can be seen

 

When I'm not bleeding

I'm too busy being healthy to leave a record

So only half the story ever gets told

 

I'll assume you know

I don't bitch and moan for the fun of it

And I'm not really a miserable wretch

 

The poets in the audience understand this from experience

And know that sometimes gatherings like this

Can be likened to a bunch of war veterans

Showing each other battle scars

And retelling of those moments

 

Where brushes with pain and death

Took life to the edge

And gave it fresh meaning

By way of contrast.

 

GS, 11/29/90

 

 

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