Tuesday, December 02, 2008

Missing the West

Came in to the dreariest sky I've ever seen. Was whisked from the airport to my car and wondered if Columbus and I would ever have any attachment to one another as I put the cold key into the cold lock and entered an apartment quite nearly a walk-in.

But today my landlord took me to lunch at Indian Oven and it was gracious and the weather a little more mild and all the beauty reminded me that I do love here and that the lilies at Goodale will bloom again and whatever reflorescence doesn't follow was never floral anyway.

Today needs a dollop of Young:

Dean Young
Beloved Escapee
Out of longing, you rowed into the horizon,
dented it in fact. Cringe. The brain shrinks
at such responses the gulls give the sea,
the sea gives itself, a discourse we
are always on the outside of, even drowning.

Oh, you said known world, not gnome world.
That makes all the difference or I wish it would
but I suspect it’s just a matter of magnification,
whether the mite be giant monster
or the great calamity of an orange-ade spill.

In the meantime as it always is
except in childhood when it’s too early
or always too late, in the meantime
I remain ornament to the miniature
golf course, subterfuged with rain.

The tricky part is how life dissolves
to tics relieved every now and then
by seizures, anemones of light spiking
from your head, a voice from the clouds
plenty loud yet you the only one to notice,

unrepentant truant that you are, sprung,
at large. Take me with you next time,
okay? I promise not to tattle.

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