Untitled
The only thing that is
just one thing
is everything.
We might as well talk about the lives of pears.
We might as well believe in money.
We might as well hold our loved ones tight
and tell them we'll never let go.
It's true enough.
Sometimes when the snow falls in late November,
it melts, and the grass is green again.
Sometimes when the cat gets out,
it doesn't come back.
Where does it go?
We might as well mourn the falling leaves.
We might as well sing in the shower.
___
Sestina to a Manager-On-Call
You are in your pajamas, looking out the window, or not out
But at your reflection as you’re placating
A furious young person, a very serious
Professional person who should himself be asleep
Right now, but he’s furious, just furious,
Because where are the opinions of the state attorney general?
When the phone rang you were asleep,
But you snapped awake because you knew it would be serious,
Since almost no one calls at 3 a.m., and never for general
Questions, and if you let it ring again your wife will be furious
In the morning, although you know you’d be able to soothe her out
Of it, because you’re good at placating.
The young man doesn’t want to hear any bullshit about the general
Availability of public information. He’s out
Of time and just wants an answer—his boss will be furious
Unless this opinion is on his desk in the morning, and there’s no placating
The boss, nor this young man either. He’s dead serious,
And you look at the dog and envy the way he’s asleep.
You try to convince the young man that you’re taking him serious-
Ly, as you pour yourself two fingers of vodka – a general
Anesthetic, not enough to make you fall asleep
But just to take the edge off having to listen to this furious
Young person. You go on placating
Him without him knowing it, and out-
Side a wind whips up and rattles the trees like a furious
Tired little man with a stick, tired of placating
Everyone else, furious at the world in general,
Waving his stick so that people will know he’s serious.
As you listen, you think you might have just as well stayed asleep,
Or moved to Idaho, or maybe gone out
With that sweet redhead who always was placating
Someone over the office phone, before you got serious
With your wife, before you found out
It’s always the case, though the whole world’s asleep,
Somewhere or other, a fellow’s got some trouble in general
And he’s furious.
___
What It Means
Now that I am old (almost thirty!)
I grow impatient with poetry.
The ripe plum’s juices sing of death,
Or they are just
plums.
I find myself craving subtlety.
I want to find in between words
Things that can’t be spoken.
Here are some stones, and here is the rain,
And here we are at the bright sweet
Edge of something keen and cool.
I want to be shown the shape of the shadow
Of the thing between the light and the world
And wonder what it means.
I want to not quite know what it means
—not yet.
