By Terrance Hayes
Ladies and gentlemen, ghosts and children of the state,
I am here because I could never get the hang of Time.
This hour, for example, would be like all the others
were it not for the rain falling through the roof.
I'd better not be too explicit. My night is careless
with itself, troublesome as a woman wearing no bra
in winter. I believe everything is a metaphor for sex.
Lovemaking mimics the act of departure, moonlight
drips from the leaves. You can spend your whole life
doing no more than preparing for life and thinking.
"Is this all there is?" Thus, I am here where poets come
to drink a dark strong poison with tiny shards of ice,
something to loosen my primate tongue and its syllables
of debris. I know all words come from preexisting words
and divide until our pronouncements develop selves.
The small dog barking at the darkness has something to say
about the way we live. I'd rather have what my daddy calls
"skrimp." He says "discrete" and means the street
just out of sight. Not what you see, but what you perceive:
that's poetry. Not the noise, but its rhythm; an arrangement
of derangements; I'll eat you to live: that's poetry.
I wish I glowed like a brown-skinned pregnant woman.
I wish I could weep the way my teacher did as he read us
Molly Bloom's soliloquy of yes. When I kiss my wife,
sometimes I taste her caution. But let's not talk about that.
Maybe Art's only purpose is to preserve the Self.
Sometimes I play a game in which my primitive craft fires
upon an alien ship whose intention is the destruction
of the earth. Other times I fall in love with a word
like somberness. Or moonlight juicing naked branches.
All species have a notion of emptiness, and yet
the flowers don't quit opening. I am carrying the whimper
you can hear when the mouth is collapsed, the wisdom
of monkeys. Ask a glass of water why it pities
the rain. Ask the lunatic yard dog why it tolerates the leash.
Brothers and sisters, when you spend your nights
out on a limb, there's a chance you'll fall in your sleep.
--------
Hayes' Lighthead was released this year by Penguin.
I met Gblvr for lunch, chat, and a bit of shopping -- Old Navy's clearance stuff was an additional 30% off and most of their cardigans and sweaters were on sale, so now we have things to wear when the temperature drops. It didn't, much, today; I'm not sure it hit 84 as forecast, but it was warm and sunny most of the afternoon. I took Adam to tennis after school and went for what was supposed to be a long, quiet walk through Cabin John Park, though it ended up being not-so-quiet because three local high schools' cross-country track teams were having a race on the paths in the woods, and there were cheerleaders at various spots to cheer them on! They finished (or at least ran out of the woods) before I finished following the trail along the creek, though, and by the time I was headed back toward the tennis center, there was a young male deer standing and eating grass about two feet off the path, so it ended up being a nice walk. I still don't know whether Adam's high school won the race, though.
The bridge connecting the Locust Grove trail to the creek-side trail to the playground at Cabin John Park.
Since I went to walk, I only had my phone camera, so this is the best I could get of the deer!
I know I must be old because I am not in love with Glee, though I have read that Glee does really well among older musical theater fans, and I was a fanatic in college and grad school before the prices got ridiculous and the shows got increasingly mediocre, so maybe it's just me. I love Sue Sylvester, the most delightful epic bitch in the history of television, but I keep hoping that some other character -- preferably a female character -- will show a modicum of believable human empathy or be motivated by something other than self-interest. Yes, I get that Finn's mostly a nice guy, and I'd pick football and the chance for a college scholarship over Rachel and Quinn both, but *snore* about Finn's problems compared to other people, and that goes double for Will. Spoilers: I am delighted that they did a Brittany episode, though she's still dumb as a brick -- the actress is clearly hugely talented and I had no idea she can dance, why doesn't she get more solos? Oh yes, because it's the Rachel show! Why didn't they let Kurt sing "...Baby One More Time," since we know his range and Rachel's are nearly identical -- how could they do a Britney episode and not give the gay kid a solo? At least Artie got to sing "Stronger," my favorite Britney song.
No comments:
Post a Comment