Acknowledgment, 1987
(For Patrick - After Gabriel Calvocaressi’s “Acknowledgment, 1964”)
Could have headed north. Could have
packed your things, who cares
that you had no money left
and nowhere else to go.
Could have sold your thoughts
to burned out dorm-room philosophers
and anyone wandering as long as you –
could have gone down the dark
road between home and somewhere
better, the whole world watching
wars and wanting a way out,
and no one thinking
of you.
Could have gotten lost. Could have
said, “I don’t know anymore,”
when the bus driver asked you
“How far you headed?”
You could have lied and said,
“Right on up the mountain,”
or, “forever.” Of course,
that would have been the truth,
and it assumes you got past
not knowing why we’re here.
You could have seen universes –
time and space, and even oceans,
if you waded deep enough
into Spring. You could have flown
with your head against the ground –
like your brother, his eyes wide open
and screaming, “Why did God make me
this way?” You could have told him,
“God didn’t make us – we did,”
and left that all behind, kicking
the feet out from under every person
who thought they knew more
about what being human means.
You could have made girls run
inside and peek through open curtains,
because you were the mystery
moving under the radar, that glow
of cigarette smoke outlining
the shadows just outside
their apartment balconies. You could
have lead them all, one by one away
from their own dim light –
and in the darkness, a people
just as lost as you are. Imagine,
your leaving before it ever got serious.
What was that breakthrough you had? You don’t
know, you were halfway outside
the atmosphere already – you watched
the ideals of the Southern drama
crumble and fall away. You threw
your dreams above your head
and never looked back. Remember
the rocks stacked along the creek?
How you crawled across the water and gave away
your soul to the shards of that survival.
If they could have seen you then! All heart
and mind, breathing, living – no more
current holding you back, just the most
important moments, only the ideas
spinning and you finger making the circle.
Could have gotten somewhere. The universe
was open – consciousness could fly
away without getting lost outside
of familiar feelings, without getting stuck
to a routine on God-forsaken Earth. Why,
God hadn’t yet forsaken the ground
around your feet. Monuments,
memories, safe from insignificance.
Perhaps you passed by them. You could have
passed the whole world by and saved yourself
the whole mess of never knowing. No one
knows any better still. We’re all on our backs,
stacking rocks along the creek, wading out
and waiting for someone to show us
a collection of other less important reasons.
-
The Universe, and How We Come to Know Ourselves
Outside, we finally talked
of real meaning and the collective
human experience of finding simple ways
to describe the biggest feelings,
when words get in the way of what we mean.
We separated stars to find
a sign of life, or prove in all
those blinking lights out there,
we’d maybe find a hint of something real.
You pointed at the sky and yelled
“That’s right – we’re talking about you!”
At that moment, I saw a streak –
I knew you saw it too.
We could only stand there staring –
speechless, connected.
-
The Confidence of Candle Wax On Soda Cans
Yet, you do not know what will happen tomorrow –
we are but vapor that appears for a while, then vanishes away.
James 4:14
Lightning slapped a power line
somewhere down the road – you said
“I think it’s only our side of the street.”
Inside, you were ready,
lighting candles in some ritual
you forgot to mention
we had already started.
Then, just as you had finished,
the power popped back on – you answered,
“Let’s just leave them glowing for a while.”
You broke a stick in half
to fit on the rim of a soda can
you stopped drinking
hours ago.
We listened to the wax drip
splashing into the can – we wondered,
“What happens to the fire once the wax melts away?”
The wick still stood
once the wax was gone,
and we watched it glow
longer than we could have expected.
We made love under burned out flames,
while the streetlights signaled silence.
I felt thunder on your skin – you smiled,
“The storm will clear, the night’s just getting started.”
(For Patrick - After Gabriel Calvocaressi’s “Acknowledgment, 1964”)
Could have headed north. Could have
packed your things, who cares
that you had no money left
and nowhere else to go.
Could have sold your thoughts
to burned out dorm-room philosophers
and anyone wandering as long as you –
could have gone down the dark
road between home and somewhere
better, the whole world watching
wars and wanting a way out,
and no one thinking
of you.
Could have gotten lost. Could have
said, “I don’t know anymore,”
when the bus driver asked you
“How far you headed?”
You could have lied and said,
“Right on up the mountain,”
or, “forever.” Of course,
that would have been the truth,
and it assumes you got past
not knowing why we’re here.
You could have seen universes –
time and space, and even oceans,
if you waded deep enough
into Spring. You could have flown
with your head against the ground –
like your brother, his eyes wide open
and screaming, “Why did God make me
this way?” You could have told him,
“God didn’t make us – we did,”
and left that all behind, kicking
the feet out from under every person
who thought they knew more
about what being human means.
You could have made girls run
inside and peek through open curtains,
because you were the mystery
moving under the radar, that glow
of cigarette smoke outlining
the shadows just outside
their apartment balconies. You could
have lead them all, one by one away
from their own dim light –
and in the darkness, a people
just as lost as you are. Imagine,
your leaving before it ever got serious.
What was that breakthrough you had? You don’t
know, you were halfway outside
the atmosphere already – you watched
the ideals of the Southern drama
crumble and fall away. You threw
your dreams above your head
and never looked back. Remember
the rocks stacked along the creek?
How you crawled across the water and gave away
your soul to the shards of that survival.
If they could have seen you then! All heart
and mind, breathing, living – no more
current holding you back, just the most
important moments, only the ideas
spinning and you finger making the circle.
Could have gotten somewhere. The universe
was open – consciousness could fly
away without getting lost outside
of familiar feelings, without getting stuck
to a routine on God-forsaken Earth. Why,
God hadn’t yet forsaken the ground
around your feet. Monuments,
memories, safe from insignificance.
Perhaps you passed by them. You could have
passed the whole world by and saved yourself
the whole mess of never knowing. No one
knows any better still. We’re all on our backs,
stacking rocks along the creek, wading out
and waiting for someone to show us
a collection of other less important reasons.
-
The Universe, and How We Come to Know Ourselves
Outside, we finally talked
of real meaning and the collective
human experience of finding simple ways
to describe the biggest feelings,
when words get in the way of what we mean.
We separated stars to find
a sign of life, or prove in all
those blinking lights out there,
we’d maybe find a hint of something real.
You pointed at the sky and yelled
“That’s right – we’re talking about you!”
At that moment, I saw a streak –
I knew you saw it too.
We could only stand there staring –
speechless, connected.
-
The Confidence of Candle Wax On Soda Cans
Yet, you do not know what will happen tomorrow –
we are but vapor that appears for a while, then vanishes away.
James 4:14
Lightning slapped a power line
somewhere down the road – you said
“I think it’s only our side of the street.”
Inside, you were ready,
lighting candles in some ritual
you forgot to mention
we had already started.
Then, just as you had finished,
the power popped back on – you answered,
“Let’s just leave them glowing for a while.”
You broke a stick in half
to fit on the rim of a soda can
you stopped drinking
hours ago.
We listened to the wax drip
splashing into the can – we wondered,
“What happens to the fire once the wax melts away?”
The wick still stood
once the wax was gone,
and we watched it glow
longer than we could have expected.
We made love under burned out flames,
while the streetlights signaled silence.
I felt thunder on your skin – you smiled,
“The storm will clear, the night’s just getting started.”
