As my family and a few people who’ve known me for a very very long time know, I have been writing, largely poetry or poetical prose, since I was about 11 years old. And I still have almost everything I’ve written in that time. There’s books of the crap; and every once in a while when I need a reality check, or very occasionally when there’s someone who seems like they might be an interesting party with an embarrassing lyric history of their own to share, I pull it out.
And most of it is stuff that you couldn’t pay me to reprint here. But every once in a while I go back and I find something that still rings true; and I am amazed at myself.
This, from a decade ago, when I was 14 years old; I doubt I’d write anything like it now, but I’m surprised how well it still seems to fit.
***
I am smaller than I look
And older than my years
I am more careless than my sense of organization,
More carefree than my common sense
I am stupider than my intelligence
And far more understanding than my experience
I am more forgiving than my anger,
Sweeter than my cynicism
And more beautiful than I look
I am kinder than my impulses
I am more reserved than my actions
More resilient than my moods
And more silent than my noise
I am more world-weary than I have a right to be
And more red-head than brunette
I am stronger than my muscle
And weaker than my mind
I am more open than a parachute
And more extroverted than chili peppers or summer rain
I am sadder than a mourning dove
But
I am more joyful than anything