038: [title redacted]

This isn’t a poem, it’s a regular post.

Sometimes when you write, you end up writing so honestly that your words are too inflammatory, personal, or polemical to share. It’s not like you lied and got embarrassed about the lie. Rather, the thoughts and words are too fresh, too new, too immature — in the sense that they’re in their infancy. They may die if they cannot ripen.

So I’m holding back from posting Number 38. I thought about posting it with the old password, but I’m willing to bet that the five of you who knew the password have forgotten it by now. A password post like this would have been lame.

What’s more helpful is to write a post that says, “I write honestly and sometimes my honesty scares me.” I have many poems like this. One of them’s called “Virginity” and I refuse to share it both for personal reasons and to protect my bride. The things you write affect you, affect the people around you about whom they’re written, the society you’re trying to help along toward kingdom come and the readers who trust you to continue you-ing. You should always be mindful of how you affect others. Thus the restraint.

So I won’t apologize for holding this one back. Rather, let’s just say I hope when I’m sixty-four, I’ll come out with a book of poems called, The Ones I was Afraid to Share at Twenty-Five or something. Maybe it’ll be okay then…

And now for something completely different: an impressive one-man-band reproduction of “When I’m Sixty-Four:”

[youtube http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=klM9WxH3ijQ]

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For newcomers — a note on 50 @ 25:

Once upon a time, I read that the perfect age for writing quality poetry is twenty-three.  Apparently most of T.S. Elliot’s stuff came out then, the rest of his work being supposedly non-poetic. This resulted in 46 poems written at 23

These poems came out exponentially faster and faster before my 24th birthday on April 30th – and I had to write in genres spanning from epic ballads to limericks to get 46 in on time. I guess that means, for better or worse, that’s the best poetry I’ll ever write. Sad day.

Who was I kidding?

Milton was blind and oldoooooold—when he publishedParadise Regained. Emily Dickenson was dead when her stuff came out. My favorite stuff from T.S. Elliot came out after his conversion. So yeah, old age is good for poetry too. Look at Burns and Berry.

(Side note: the name “Berry Burns” sounds like a shady car salesman).

Will I keep up this twice-my-age regimen every few years? Who knows, but this year, here’s to 50 poems at 25 to be written exponentially faster until I turn 26 on April Thirtyish. I do it this the second time around as a way to say: “Here’s to living life well before it’s too late.”

READ NEXT:  the peak of my literary career

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  1. jennifromrollamo

    Good point. I read J.D. Salinger’s Catcher in the Rye after I was a college-grad. I didn’t like the book, and when I read he had dedicated it to his mother, I told my husband that if one of our kids had written a book like that and dedicated it to me, I’d be so embarrassed! My point is that perhaps Salinger’s novel was perhaps too personal or immature for publication in the 1950’s, perhaps he should have waited until the 70’s. Just my opinion.

    1. lanceschaubert

      Interesting…

      It may be both. I think precisely because it was so personal and immature in the 1950s it had the greatest affect. Here we are with almost a lone voice critiquing the Beaver Cleaver illusion while it’s happening.

      Of course arguing for that shoots my restraint in the foot by calling myself a coward, but I’m okay cowing with some things…

      for now.

  2. Doberman

    Hey, you should have written a poem about how you felt your poem was as yet unripe.

    The words tendril-delicate, still in the hothouse
    Humid droplets water them rather than rain.

    Unripe fruit in a paper bag, still awaiting
    a viewing. I would give you a peach warm from the tree,
    Eyes on words satisfied as teeth taking that first
    full bite of summer with both poem and palm
    full of juice.

    Hey, that is today’s mini poery slam!

    1. lanceschaubert

      Dudette, that was perfect. You’ve totally stolen the show for #38

      More of that, please.

      Better yet: want to have a live-blog poetry slam for the finale? Like a pitch-and-catch or call-and-response or tit-for-tat kind of thing?

      It’d all be in the comments…

      1. Doberman

        Cool!

        1. lanceschaubert

          You down?

        2. Doberman

          I just need to know the date and time…surely not on your birthday?

          1. lanceschaubert

            Probably either may 1 or 2 in the mid afternoon. I’ll let you know for sure so– it’ll be like Sufjan’s avalanche

          2. lanceschaubert

            Yah, let’s do May first as an avalanche. I’ll post “outtake” snippets and poems at the very end, but the whole post will be a live blog thing. From noonish to flourish where any poem anyone submits in the comments gets a response like Tyger/Little Lamb or like the He that serves/tastes woman call and response.

            Make sense?

  3. sedula

    Darn I used “full” twice. Oh well, it was off-the-cuff…..already revising. SIGH.

    1. lanceschaubert

      That works because it’s an alternate meaning in the double syntax — “full” summer is “fulfillment” as in “full-bore,” “first full” evokes thoughts of the first draft (both in writing and baseball).

      “palm full” is a measurement whereas “poem full” is a sign of wholeness, shalom.

      So both work, I think.

    2. Doberman

      This is in response to May 1. So May 1st at Noon your time. Poetry slam? I guess I need clarification of Tyger/Little Lamb call and response He that Seves woman.

      1. lanceschaubert

        You’ll write your poem. Everyone else will write theirs.

        I’ll respond in kind.

Quick note from Lance about this post: when you choose to comment (or share this post with your friends) you help other readers just like you.

How?

Well, see, your comments & sharing whisper a few things to those who come after you:

The first is that this site is a safe place to speak up & stay curious. That it's civil. That discussion is encouraged. That there's no such thing as a stupid question (being a student of Socrates, I really and truly believe this). That talking to one another and growing together is more important than anything we could possibly publish. That the point is growing in virtue and growing together and growing wise. That discovery is invention, deference is originality, that we all can rise together. The only folks I'm going to take comments down from are obvious jerks who argue in bad faith, don't stay curious, or actively make personal attacks. And, frankly, I'd rather we talk here than on some social media farm — I will never show ads and the only thing I'm selling anywhere on the site or my mailing list is just the stuff I make.

You're also helping folks realize that anything you & they build together is far more important than anything you come to me to read. I take the things I write about seriously, but I don't take myself seriously: I play the fool, I hate cults of personality, and I also don't really like being the center of attention (believe it or not). I would much rather folks connect because of an introduction I've made or because they commented with one another back and forth and then build something beautiful together. My favorite contributions have been lifelong business and love partnerships from two people who have forgotten I introduced them. Some of my closest friends NOW I literally met on another blog's comment section fifteen years ago. I would love for that to happen here — let two of you meet and let me fade into the background.

Last, you help me revise. I'm wrong. Often. I'm not embarrassed to admit it or worried about being cancelled or publicly shamed. I make a fool out of myself (that's sort of the point). So as I get feedback, I can say, "I was wrong about that" and set a model for curious, consistent learning, and growing in wisdom. I'm blind to what I don't know and as grows the island of my knowledge so grows the shoreline of my ignorance. It's the recovery of innocence on the far end of experience: a child is in a permanent state of wonder. So are the wise: they aren't afraid of saying, "I don't know. That's new: please teach me." That's my goal, comments help. And I read all reviews: my skin's tough, but that's not license to be needlessly cruel. We teach one another our habits and there's a way to civilly demolish an idea without demolishing another person: just because I personally can take the world's meanest 1-star review doesn't mean we should teach one another how to be crueler on the internet.

For three magical reasons — your brave curiosity, your community, & my ignorance:

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