Poems by Nate Witham

SHE’S GOT SONS OLDER THAN YOU:

This is it

the home movie

of our life—

flick flick

flickering

past

s-t-o-p m-o-t-i-o-n

s

t

t

utters.

and all the old

photographs

of who we used to

be

standing next to her

kind wrinkled smile

hairless scalp quietly

tells the story…

“This is the last picture of

my mother,”

I light her cigarette.

We are all these things

and more:

a shook up wasp nest of

contradictions.

Ascendant in the sun

transcendent

astral above ourselves;

all the little threads that

bind us—where they

come from and where

they go—

laid bare.

We are all the people

we used to be,

and all those we

will become:

I AM ME WHO WANTED TO DIE

I AM ME WHO WANTED TO TELL

HER “I LOVE YOU’

I AM ME WHO WANTED TO BREAK,

STRANGLE AND DESECRATE

it’s not some dark romance: it’s reality

and it’s cruelly the best thing

that’ll happen to you.

Nate Witham is a monstrous mountain man from Montana: with venison tendons in his teeth and the word in his gut.  He resides in Bellingham, WA these days–adding a good dose of hippie to the redneck.  Poetry is the gristle of his meat, but lately he’s been trying on some longer forms; playing with prose as it were.  Nate’s work is grounded very much in physical reality, but only to serve as a platform for externalized introspection; taking a long look in the mirror, and getting lost in his pores.