for lee foust
from the first words, "solo il amare, solo il conoscere/conta..."
"only loving, only knowing/matters
not having loved, not having known.."
i see my old friend, he, my old friend, you
arrives in an image, inside an image, of the poem
at once announcing the moment, the eternal break with(in) "history"
(that repeats itself in unbroken successions
of miserable bastard cacophonies, wars for peace
and fleshless dreamers---like skeletons dug form the rubbles of gaza---
and yet faces into the world, benjamin's angel, the mouth of klee
"set at the margin", so to speak a foregone apocalypse
in which survivors scrounge in dirt and rubbish,
the ones who carry history nevertheless like a senseless bag
full of deposit bottles, in exchange for a future
repetitious, anxious, yet brimming with the possibility
knowing thirst unvanquishible, the tongue yearning,
replacing their teeth in advanced age, limping and smiling forward
(with whatever backlashed dreams and dead families
those same smiles mask over)
reminding me all again this morning
on my kasprzaka street stairs
the old lady descending, one slippered foot swollen, unbootably
the other boot cautious, testing her step
hand glued to the gleaming railing, eyes on a distant goal,
did not betray seeing me
as i was out into frigid air and
already whisking back again, she was only out the door
moving so steadily, barely--where-ever--
into that wind
i was coming from...
that i thought myself
so much weaker than she
02.2.09-------------- Poznań
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this was originally a facebook note. stephen ellis commented after it:
The gaunt sureness of age (focus) always makes the scatter of youth in seed seem weak. She hides under the leaves, and walks out of the settlement, unnoticed, but seen, always, everywhere. For the rest, there is simply "no where to run / ...no where to hide . . . " Seen always, but barely understood, see? Ha! The difference, that she is seen "everywhere" (seldomly) and the rest are seen "always", yet seem to be no where. Yes, I know: It's getting late.
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