November 14, 2019
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un-ownable
what can i possibly write about? haven't i already
written every computation and permutation
in the last ten thousand poems? when has it ever
brought back lost love or retrieved a departed heart?morning holds up its brimming chalice full of
iridescent light-- inside i come upon a vision of
my own disconcerting face, as if in a painting
by Hieronymus Bosch.i only want the aplomb of a bright blue sky
and a bedazzlement of sunlight!love, affection...?
a stunning but temporary delirium, a kiss
on the upturned mouth of all my words
that stumbled along the edges
of a dirt embankment, pretending greatly,
believing whole-heartedly, even as they whinged
my disbelief. now what? what comes next?a penitential fall into a ring of fire
as night ignites
all my daytime fears?all these years
SIMPLY AIN'T ENOUGH,
so do not leave me--me, the Anonymous Caller
who knocked on your bolted door
and stammered after your un-ownable smile.sotto voce:
did i say "un-ownable" or "unknowable"?pay attention.
do you remember when it seemed
that the whole world was closed
on winter days and nothing good would ever
come of politics or snow? do you remember
when waking every day was guesswork
and we were often like children?
do you know i named a path through the bamboo grove
after you?and do you remember
when we strolled that path in the bamboo grove
and birds sang our hearts away?
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