The New Stuff
For Rich Villar

I remember the new stuff.



When it hit the mic raw

and risky like homemade sushi

     more interested in the flavor

     than the presentation.



We were too hungry

for pretense.



I remember the new stuff.



When it burst from the heart

like a ball of fire

through an origami parade

on a mission from god –

     prophecy overflowing

     from the mouths of babes.



We were going to change the world but

were tempted by it instead.



I remember the new stuff.



When writing was like breathing

and everything was new

and new was good

because the old stuff was old

and our voices were changing daily

and three strikes was two too many

because there were only so many ways

and so many times we could speak

and not sound like a politician

breaking another promise.



I remember the new stuff.



How it came less and less often

the older we got

     afraid to take risks

     afraid to lose face

     afraid to keep moving forward.



I remember the new stuff

coming from other voices.



When we took a minute to stop

     remixing ourselves

     recycling ourselves

     repeating ourselves



took a minute to stop

     and listen

took a minute to stop

     and listen

     to the new stuff

took a minute to stop

     and listen

     to the new stuff



prophecy overflowing

from the mouths of babes

making new promises

they’ll never keep –

     until they learn how to listen, too.