Written 5-4-91, so I was about 26. Soon after this I left the group, but not before I gave this to him, along with all the other poetry I had written for him, in a little handmade book. The front cover had a gorgon looking into a mirror with a bit of tinfoil to make the mirror part.

Ah, youth.

Anyway, after talking to Roland, I promised I’d find this for him and post it. I told him I was always trying to resolve my problems in metaphor, and I had written this whole piece with Marcelo as the Gorgon. “The GORGON?” he asked…he sounded surprised. I had forgotten that the connection wasn’t as obvious to other people as it was to me.

“Sure,” I said. “He smiled at people and it turned them to stone.”

There’s this fable, sometimes about a snake, sometimes about a scorpion, but in the end, the person that helps the creature becomes bitten and poisoned. The creature says in response, “This is what I am! What other gift did you expect from me?” and there are echoes of that here.

It’s not my best work or anything…but it was what I needed at the time. And it got me out.

= = = = = = =

One cannot look at the Gorgon
He will turn you to stone.

I cannot deny that dizzy feeling
As I drown in your eyes and your smile.
I am floundering, as if in quicksand
But this quicksand smells like musk and roses
Feels like a warm hot bath
Comforts and surrounds, as well as protects.

All my life I have been chasing men of living stone
Never noticing that I, too,
Was petrifying,
Solidifying,
Becoming stone myself.
With one look you do this to me
Smelling so good,
Feeling so wonderful,
As the numbness creeps up my arms
— reaching
Striving for my heart.
That’s the goal, isn’t it?
To make me hard like you?
To make me stone, like you?
Is that what you want?

Or is that all you know how to do?
What other gift did I expect from you?

I must fight the Gorgon, mustn’t I?
Or can I just walk away?
I do not wish to fight you
But you seem to follow me
Demanding I gaze in your eyes.

I have brought a mirror this time, my love.
I will see your true face,
And hopefully mine too.

I hold my shield up
Polished so brightly as to defend me
Reflective as a looking glass
And I see you coming for me.
I had thought you came for me because you loved me
But with this weapon of a new perspective
I see it as it really is.
You are alone and lonely with no one to speak with
(since you turn them all to stone so fast).
You do not love me.
You want someone who is attracted to you,
Someone to look in your brightly burning eyes
Long enough to tell you they love you.

I see you coming for me
With heated words and near-kisses
I had been hypnotized by the smile you gave
But I can see now that not even you know
It’s not a real smile.

I could make you smile real smiles
After I make love to you
And tickle you with my nose.
I could pull you close to me
–NO!
I must remember my quest!
With my mirror I must see through your glamour…

I do not see the monster I expected to see.
Only someone as beautiful
And as lost
As myself.

Shall I show you yourself, my love?
Will that set you free?
You enjoy this dramatic lifestyle
Of burning passion and anger
But my nervous system was not meant
For such stressful activity.

I have enjoyed this rush of emotion
Hitting me like a drug and knocking me to my knees
I have encouraged your attentions
And watched my fingers petrify with awe and wonder.
The transformation of this body is not yet complete
But what miracle is this
That can turn heart and soul to stone?
Is it all anger that does this?
Is it all pain?
I have asked for what I have gotten
(What other gift did I expect from you?)
But this time it will be different.
I need not kiss the Gorgon.
I need not turn to stone.
I had wanted to be hard,
Untouchable,
And I came to the Master to learn.
Why did I think I could touch you
when others could not?
With my mirror I see it was your smile
And the smell of musk and roses.
The same smile and smell you give to everyone.
The same enticingness that lures them all to you.
The same extra-specialness
That makes me not special at all.
I am only “next” to you.
I am never special.
I cannot be.

I will be special now, Love.

Not only will I not turn to stone
But I will leave you here
Without a kiss or a backward glance
Not even through my mirror.
I will be special to you for my gift to you.
A polished shield for a man who needs no protection.
Look at it and see yourself.
Perhaps, if you’re lucky,
You’ll crack.