IN HARMS WAY POEMS ABOUT FUCKING FREEDOM AND PSYCH WARDS
BY WIN HARMS
BARNCOTT PRESS LONDON - AMSTERDAM - PARIS - BELGRADE - NEW YORK KATHMANDU - CAPE TOWN
In Harms Way © Win Harms 2015 Cover photograph © Hideyuki Ishibashi. Back cover & interior photographs © Nicholas Chase Kessler. All Rights Reserved Published in print and ebook editions Barncott Press 2015. ISBN (Europe): 13: 978-1516857227 ISBN (USA): 10: 1516857224 www.barncottpress.com
CONTENTS INTRODUCTION
1
80 PROOF LOVE
3
HEADS
4
TAILS
5
AMERICAN BOY
7
AUGUST BABY
8
CHICAGO WARD
10
BEAT POEM
11
CONFESSION
13
CULTURE SHOCK
14
DEAD DAUGHTER
17
DEAD ROSES
18
DEATH BY TV
19
DELUSION
20
DROWNING
21
EDGE OF EXISTENCE
22
ELEKTRA EUPHEMISMS
24
FEAR
26
IGNITED
28
INFIDELITY IN ATLANTIC CITY
29
MIDWEST TATTOO
30
SO THERE IT WAS
31
STOWAWAY
32
SUNRISE
34
THOSE WERE THE DAYS
35
UNDER CONTROL
15
About the Author
17
* This a free sample from ‘In Harms Way’ by Win Harms (Barncott Press 2015), available in print and ebook editions. Full purchasing details are here.
INTRODUCTION What do audiences look for in a young woman poet after the teen angst is gone and with it the cutting, the Ritalin, the Prozac, junkie chic and bitten red finger nails? Does the reader want a pithy, twelve-step renaissance somewhere around the late twenties, neatly swallowing the feminist pill like it’s the gateway drug to embracing the sisterhood of female poets? But what if you are like writer of poems, Win Harms, with a heat-seeking bullshit detector who doesn't give a shit about feminism because chivalry can't be dead if you've never heard of it.
1
2
80 PROOF LOVE i was dreaming of conclusion when i heard the crash of a hard drive mind in a yellow raincoat his dreams got squared by a second grade teacher who kicked a girl out of class for having cool ideas she says that kids don’t live the way they should radical plans to rule the world i’d run away to canada but i hate the cold eyes of his girlfriend as he sneaks a look in my direction and in his mind i’m running my hands across his thighs i could not help to crucify her in a drunken state on a cross made of bedposts let her die for my sins it plays a trick on my mind i think it’s his knock but white trash climb in my bed and whisper hell into my head if i could get away i would believe in god since it would take a miracle to yank me away from an 80 proof love i chased the tequila sunrise with a three month hangover and i was handcuffed to the steering wheel with my own addictions i saw him die that night with a head full of acid and a stain on his shirt somehow we made it back and i could swear the pavement was melting as she drove past the motel for the seventh time i wanted the gun that held me the night before but it was too late for we were already dead
3
HEADS sugar dew drop in your words (not unlike happy tears running down my sunburned cheeks) to live? Not to live? that is not a question now nor will it ever be again characteristically speaking, something about you travels over my skin like grave dancers and an ocean wave ecstasy over your curls (creating palpitations with every touch and never floating far from my mind) angels covet or want as, covet is sin, your sun kissed smile and lights (maybe even stars) brighten when you arrive
4
TAILS transcendent behavior marked by soft words could i fall so readily? so out of time and out of touch? goddess on my knees you or maybe not you (maybe the illusion of you in my world running faster than sounds) force against me while the grass turns a shade of love in the summertime as rain whispers your name in my ear grasping sugar sunshine in the cool wet places only you know, only i know we comprehend illusions not found in the common eye
5
6
AMERICAN BOY today or tomorrow while you are were out we said the pledge of allegiance hands over our hearts eyes on the flag or gazing out the window not hearing the poetry of such majestic words he speaks without a clue i thought i loved him once blond hair blue eyes o soon to fight in a civil war our fathers did not start but joined just the same now he stands the perfect american boy
7
AUGUST BABY august baby and i know where you are still i keep searching for traces of you the crossword puzzle spells out your favorite color i catch a taste of you in the candy aisle at seven eleven every poem i’ve written before or after you sounds like your breath as you asked me is the captain at home? i saturated myself with you in the spring time i let my life explode like fireworks as we watched the ashes falling to the ground we went big then you went home while i was left with a red suitcase and an empty flask still i keep screaming your name
8
9
CHICAGO WARD edwin chased razor blades with pinesol miguel is a chronic masturbator who said come with me, you want to do sex? miriam punched me twice, hard i took lithium and clonopin with no one to stop me but myself and now I’m sitting here with these ghosts, shells of the person you were i can’t even call so you can laugh at me while i wear the pajama pants the woman who read us our vows wore 800 miles and three suicide attempts (one successful, two not) away from a beautiful day in march ten years ago we thought crazy could be cured now the man has become the myth and the woman has been left a widow
10
BEAT POEM i numb my mind with cartoons and high grade marijuana spouting off outrageous claims like “i am going to kill the president” or “i am the chosen one; the sun god told me so” i am a caffeine fiend and nicotine queen ex (future) junkie whore if this bit doesn’t work i remember everything, even the things i say i don’t every second of this comedy called life where everyone is seeking mysteries but forgetting about reality i see the beauty in all: art, poetry, hoboes, and naked people dancing in the street i see the hazy visions i can never tell for i am the keeper of the children each and every one of you i am the mother, protector i am always there, waiting for you the scandals that surround me are true i am only half angel the shadows find me, too but i know the way the rest we’ll catch as catch can burn the flags and smoke the pipes run with the hunted and hide in the light
11
12
CONFESSION this confession, long overdue, is not sordid and sad in our confusion and grief one turns the ordinary into dare i say fantastic? in time the mystery starts to unravel, and it is seen that life is synonymous with love, death, beauty, hatred, sex, hunger, greed, and standing before everything the ever present IF or GOD the entity that created and drives all living things \a monarchy for people who fear themselves and the horrid truth that goes with looking yourself in the eyes crying when it is better to laugh and hanging on others as if they are the only thing that can bring you to your light (she sighed at this point in her drunken rambling to point out that despite what she said when she was fourteen, true love does exist, and a long island iced tea was the only appropriate way to honor dead friends) confession... i have seen the light and it isn’t far away just give me your oceans and shores, your mountains and your trees!!!! i will bow down and at these things my spirit is free even if my hands are bound now i bid you a fine fare well and may your journeys be as cluster-fucked and chaotic as mine
13
14
UNDER CONTROL my bruises were the color of revenge in a pinkish tone revenge for words i didn't say words he heard years ago from some nobody walking down the street like some kind of hard ass but i got a knife held to my throat as he told me to take o my clothes i guess i shouldn't come here anymore i never learn those days were things i couldn't dream my mind was liquid and my hands shook what's your name little girl? but i wasn't little i was 36-24-36 and i could rule the world once he took me aside and said don't you worry your pretty little head you want it you got it and and i was a PRINCESS running down the street from screeching tires that chased me across town and finally caught up thrown in the backseat with a half breed who kissed my neck and took my money my freedom my life everything will be a.g. 'cause we got it all under control... and there i lie on this hotel bed watching him convulse from some kind of overdose but he'll be fine 'cause they got it UNDER CONTROL and i took a 40 oz to quench my thirst as i heard my name in his plans i wanna talk and i sighed knowing no words would come from these lips because i never had a conversation that involved words when they had me under control
15
Win Harms. Photo: Amy Richman.
16
About the Author Win Harms is a poet living in France. She hails from the state of the cowboy poetry contest, but she has lived pretty much everywhere, including many psych wards, and considers herself a survivor of the struggle. The chaos has ceased and now she spends her time doing needlepoint and laundry, but longs to share her words with the world. As of last year, she left her roaring twenties, and is now feeling fecund and free. She regularly posts new poems on her website: www.winharms.wordpress.com/
Also by Win Harms: ‘October 22’ (Barncott Press 2014) ‘Boys and Booze’ (Hand-bound, 2015)
* This a free sample from ‘In Harms Way’ by Win Harms (Barncott Press 2015), available in print and ebook editions. Full purchasing details are here.
BARNCOTT PRESS
17