BEETHOVEN WAS A DEAF MAN

I was aiming for Beethoven.
I had my teeth sun into the prodigal piano
trying to get my skull to vibrate with brilliance
but deaf, deaf, deaf,
and now I’m thinking that Beethoven was a
wildhairedfriendlessmadman
and I’m only 16 and I’m
never going to hear any better so
I’m sorry,
I didn’t mean to waste all these hours writing terrible poetry shutting myself off from
friendly looks so that I could achieve the
necessary state of mind to record the violence inside, the
mental war crimes that some would describe as amazing achievements.

and I would not write a single word more if it meant that my
Nuremburg would be held in a broken down elevator,
trapped for several hours of trial with my conquerors –
the swaggering well-adjusted goldenboys who’ve never heard a whiff of Beethoven –
several pleasant enlightening hours
where the conversation would be easysomehow evenforme.

I would likely be sentenced to friendships and
artless eternity, and I’ll probablystillwrite these terrible poems, these
wretched student stanzas of sonambulant soul seaching
but I’ve gotta let go I’m
only 16 and deaf and
life!

I’m letting go
and let people
be pianos.