The Right One - Porn Bazaar

When I was 23, I wrote a poem called “The Right One,” and I performed it (a lot) for the next 8 years or so. I haven’t done it much lately, but I dusted it off for a couple of the Writing Spicier class showcases — and I’m so glad I did!

Some folks said they had no idea I used to do performance poetry, and had never heard this piece, so it’s clearly time to revive it. Here’s a few ways to listen / watch / read it yourself, if you’d like to.

so I know ya’ll aren’t just here for the poetry

That certainly isn’t the only thing that happens on this stage

And I’ve seen you out there

gauging us poets

auditioning us for our oral skills:

how fast I can tongue my staccato

how long I can keep the poem rhythm up

and hard

and driving,

pounding,

persistent

how much languid lapping detail

I can alternate with tight lipped teeth

and tricky consonants.

What?

You don’t care much for poetry?

Never really did it for you?

Well, maybe you just haven’t had the right

poet

yet:

one that distills truth down to such simple depths

that your heart softens and liquefies

your life on the outside falls away

and all you feel is the poem

the line

the phrase

the word

the syllable

the ta ta ta of the tongue against the teeth

or the pooling of the tongue

at the bottom of the mouth

in an mmmmmm.

Poets, we know about mouths

like that

And we know about hands

where to put them and when

when to press and when to cradle

and when to punch it.

And that audience, you’re tough –

you know how to read the signs

the rhythm, the grind

the accentuation of certain key phrases

and crescendos

if I’m not cradling the space

as I’m picking up the pace

if I’m not planted firm and stead

when I’m getting you all ready

you’re gonna know it

you’re gonna feel it

my lips, my breath

my words taking you up

and to the edge of your seat –

because I’ve got the writer’s way of looking at the world,

it won’t be boring or redundant,

impersonal

or unsatisfying

no.

I’ve got minute details to activate variation

on the patterns and the rhythms

I know you like.

you see, I’ve been on top

of this stage

a lot. and I know

what gets you hot.

I know what gets this place bursting,

what gets you leaning forward,

mouth watering,

watching my lips

my chest with my every breath

my hands when I lift and float

and I know you’ve seen my fingers –

writing gives us all that extra dexterity,

but you already knew that.

you’ve seen what writer’s hands can do,

where they can go,

what syntax they can bring,

what it’s like to have the ring

of a dismount in your head,

clinging and blazing,

like the denouement after climax

when your body tingles and frays for days.

and me?

it just takes some simple little phrase,

and I’m gone.

I’m yours.

I’m standing up here

under all these bright lights,

my every fault showing through,

my character an unwilling flaw in everything I do,

I’m opening to you

so you may catch

a shimmering glimpse of what happens inside,

in that moment of terror,

when I’m cracked open and seeping

from all my tender places

so that you might just see

what’s inside of me

is inside of you, too.

so bring

it

on.

watch me up here,

watching you on display,

I’m doing all the work

while you can just sit back and take it.

but I’m sure you know taking it in

takes just as much as dishing it out.

and me, I’m doing this just for you,

cause I know how much you want it, secretly,

to be rocked by some sweet piece up here,

just for you,

with my tongue against my teeth

my throat wet

my wrists strong and pulsing

just for you,

my feet planted firm

this mic as my simple instrument

just for you,

my body, my tone

my placement, my poem,

I’m putting it out there,

and you can decide

if you came here tonight

and found

the right one.

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