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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
bob@dr-bob.orgShown: posts 1 to 3 of 3. This is the beginning of the thread.
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 17, 2004, at 22:00:18
ode to timothy
your sensual hands run over my body
my skin raises in goose bump trails
our first meeting in the bar
your voice soft as you murmur about Heidegger and Nietzsche
my mind quickens by such talk
our long blond hair tangles together as your books arrive in boxes
your lip dusted with mothers chocolate chip cookies
my day alone is filled with longing for you
our spare bedroom converts into a painting studio
your body is pink and fleshy masking your dancing muscles
my how do we become we
our paintbrushes in the same glass I paint in blue as you requested
your face turns green with envy when you look at my creation
my need is to be praised
our bedroom is dark as I wait for you
you leave notes in your philosophy books about a blonde women in your dreams
my face turns a more vivid green
Our love is waning and she is always there waiting for you to leave me
you leave me
my pain is chilled as I am waiting in the dirty snow bank for you to come home
Our home is without heat
you greet me and are surprised by my energy, “I thought you were sad?”
My pain gathers as you hold her arm
our relationship is ended and a soothing voice in my head says, “Go home, it’s over”
Posted by Atticus on September 17, 2004, at 23:53:32
In reply to ode to Timothy, posted by Jai Narayan on September 17, 2004, at 22:00:18
This is beautifully written, full of your typically rich descriptions of telling details, like the cookie crumbs on the lips. As is so often the case, a fear of abandonment -- this time realized -- winds its way around the narrative thread. This seems to be the driving force behind so much of your poetry and your pain. Juxtaposed against the poem you wrote previously about sneaking out the window only to be caught by your mother (who ironically is doing her own version of the same thing, apparently), the connective tissue seems to be an understandably high level of insecurity -- spawned in childhood, a constant theme throughout adulthood. This makes for very poignant reading. Atticus
Posted by Jai Narayan on September 18, 2004, at 9:55:26
In reply to Re: ode to Timothy, posted by Atticus on September 17, 2004, at 23:53:32
Atticus, as always your comments are appreciated. Your work is so brilliant and upbeat with darkness twisted in. I love the voice you bring to your work.
My work has gone through some changes.
Loss and abandonment are my life themes till I hit my 30's.
I would be curious what you think of a departure voice I used.But my mind is revisiting old moods, thoughts, and feelings.
I am wearing an old mood like a favorite blue dress.
It feels familiar.
In my 30's I doned a body suit of red with orange flames.
I burned so much of my life when I was red.
Lately it seems I am wearing a coat that is transparent.
I can now see through my skin.
This is the end of the thread.
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Dr. Bob is Robert Hsiung, MD,
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