Tuesday, April 24, 2012
just my 19th nervous breakdown
it was daytime and i realized i feared
being in the sun. then, when it was
nighttime, i noticed that the moon was
menacing me. i could not determine
whether this was the way it had always
been, and i’d always just cockroached my
way through the daytimes and the
nighttimes…or if my being so thoroughly
terrorized had materialized with suddenness.
with help and, in large parts, luck, the daytimes
and nighttimes were made into different
beasts altogether, and i was able to coerce myself
into believing that these altogether different
beasts were nothing to be afraid of.
Monday, April 23, 2012
You saved me, you should remember me.
The spring of the year; young men buying tickets for the ferryboats.
Laughter, because the air is full of apple blossoms.
When I woke up, I realized I was capable of the same feeling.
I remember sounds like that from my childhood,
laughter for no cause, simply because the world is beautiful,
something like that.
Lugano. Tables under the apple trees.
Deckhands raising and lowering the colored flags.
And by the lake’s edge, a young man throws his hat into the water;
perhaps his sweetheart has accepted him.
sounds or gestures like
a track laid down before the larger themes
and then unused, buried.
Islands in the distance. My mother
holding out a plate of little cakes—
as far as I remember, changed
in no detail, the moment
vivid, intact, having never been
exposed to light, so that I woke elated, at my age
hungry for life, utterly confident—
By the tables, patches of new grass, the pale green
pieced into the dark existing ground.
Surely spring has been returned to me, this time
not as a lover but a messenger of death, yet
it is still spring, it is still meant tenderly.
- Louise Gluck
Wednesday, April 11, 2012
Tuesday, April 10, 2012
After the explosion, no one knew what to do
For the boy who'd stood closest
to the abandoned leather briefcase.
By some miracle, he was the only one injured. It erupted
In an incense of sulfur and nails as he made his way
To steal it. Holiness has an aura, everyone knows that,
But why would terrorists bother to murder a thief?
The ethics of this question paralyzed everyone in sight
While the boy, unable to breathe, watched God wandering
The station in a business suit, asking occasional strangers
Have you seen my briefcase?
There was something urgent in it.
Monday, April 9, 2012
|Tonight No Poetry Will Serve|
Saw you walking barefoot