Lies, Big and Little

Ondu pinhole multiple exposure, Ilford FP4 | photo by author

I’ll tell you lies,
sweet little ones
or big fat juicy ones

I’ll tell you how
the morning whipped in
like a windstorm
and last night fear
pounded on the door
from 3 to 5 am
until four of my neighbors
hopped the fence
to restrain him
then we all sat in the grass
and watched the sun rise
singing hymns
and passing a joint around

I’ll tell you about
a guy I met at a party
who carried a primitive
knife around his neck
to cut ties and bad vibes
this was on the beach
where he had been
swimming with sea turtles
I still have sand
between my toes

I’ll tell you how a group
of rattlesnake handlers
told me in the detail the best
way to prepare the meat
and groused about feral hogs
mowed down from helicopters
how they spoke the calm
language of wild danger
expressing fangs, tuned in
to the ranging dialect
of western nature

I’ll tell you about the
explosive flat tire we
had to change while a
tornado-wielding thunderstorm
bore down on the side
of the highway, drawing
herds of deer out of the
brush, across the street
fence-leaping, white tails
flashing like lightning
as they headed for
clearer skies

I’ll tell you,
and you can listen
but it’s up to you to excavate
the truth of it, should there
be any at all to find


This poem is part 2 of my tiny discourse on “the Muse” – part 1 was yesterday. Recently at a party part of the conversation I had about writing was whether or not there was any truth to it, as in does a poem (or song, as the case was) reflect your life, is it based blatantly or in coded fashion on your life experiences? Or is it lies, wonderful fabrications for the sake of art? Does it matter?

So, I wrote this poem. Which parts do you think are true? And how do you write?

Published by amyjasek

Film photographer, mother, positively passionate about life in general, Texan : )

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