Two Unpublished Authors In Their Late Thirties Poem by Charles Chaim Wax

“Bernstein, I thought you were a man
of integrity and action,
but then you appeared
diffuse and lacking will.
That depressed me.”
“It depressed me too, Tunstill.”
“You were becoming a paradigm for me.”
“In what sense? ”
“You were in your late-thirties
and getting it together.
I was impressed by your writing
thirteen hours a day
for thirty-five days. There was
a supreme devotion to your art.
Here in you was a model
of someone who had overcome
rough and conflicted beginnings.
See both of us
stumbled at the starting block
then I saw the same old nagging
confusion pulling at you
so it was disappointing, disheartening,
saddening.”
“Did you notice
how I’m back on my feet again?
Just look at that damsel
in the short pink dress
and she’s not wearing panties
takes guts to walk around like that
cause a strong breeze comes along
and there it is for all the world to see.”
“You know, Bernstein,
it’s difficult to have
a serious conversation with you
but listen:
you have periods of
intense
almost
manic creativity
followed by intervals of
a fallow depressive quality
you are, and I say this
with utmost sadness,
an intermittent artist.”