February 2019
DeWitt Clinton
clintond@uww.edu
clintond@uww.edu
NOTE: I retired a few years ago from a long career of teaching writing and literature courses at the University of Wisconsin--Whitewater. Last fall a long overdue book arrived as At the End of the War, a book of narrative poems from Kelsay Press. Next spring, another book is due, Fishing with the Chinese Masters, a collection of adaptations of classical Chinese poems under the imprint of Is a Rose Press. Aging, but hoping to continue yoga, as well as training for triathlons and short, mid and long distance runs though the pace is more jogging and walking.
After Reading “The Distant Shore” by David Graham
After Reading “The Man Who Walks Toward Us” by Robert Bly—
is it Possible to Write an After After?
Well did anyone ever think we could take it all in,
Like all the stars, all the roads since Rome, all the
Beautiful pictures of lovelies we’ve glanced at,
Just barely, or longingly, and all those birds,
Tweeting away, who thinks we can remember
All those lovely avian arias. They were lovely, or am
I remembering something else that’s lovely
And can’t remember what it was. How many
Times does someone say, can you get that
For me, and you’ve done it a million times,
But now it’s just hard to remember what it
Was that you retrieved for someone who
Couldn’t quite reach it. Isn’t that most of
Our problem, here, where we are, reaching
For something and then forgetting what
We so longingly reached for. Oh yes,
The slice of pie, oh yes, morning pills,
Oh yes, turn up the heat, oh dear, turn
Down the heat. And then we have those
Boats, canoes, kayaks, innertubes, small craft,
Sailing boats, cruise ships, oh, and who
Can ever remember the time we crossed
The cold Atlantic and dined under new
Stars, and then I take a picture of you,
looking so longingly to Lady Liberty.
Don’t you remember that? And then,
Soon, we can’t even see land as we’re
So far away, we can’t see anything but
Waves, waves, way too many waves.
PLEASE STAY
I’m here, okay, thinking you’re here, though I know
You may not be here, as I don’t see you or hear
Any whispers in the next room, or sense a cold
Chill when the room is already quite warm with
No sense of anybody, really, and that’s what
I wonder about today, with you who as you know
Now, may not be here, but that’s okay, when
You read this, you might be unless you’re more
Finicky that I once thought as who would want
To be inside the mind of somebody’s lines who
Takes you away from the misery you are already
In to something you’d never thought of even if
It’s something you don’t like, but that’s the point,
Right, that we are here, linked like buds at least
For as long as you keep reading down the lines
But then what happens when you get to the
Bottom, and all you can muster is “say what?”
Or something cruel like that, who’d want to
Start up something, say a relationship with
Someone you’ve never known, not even by
Reputation, it’s just that you saw what was
Going on here, and thought it might be swell
To go off on a spin, a brief delight, and see
What’s here, even if, realizing toward the end
Of this, that’s all there is, no big panorama to
Go “ahh” over but just the fact that you came
By and stayed for a minute or two, or even
Less than that which means so much and who
Hasn’t said that too much around where you
Live as I’ve heard it said for just about anything
You could imagine, for admiring your outfit,
Your nails, your shoes, your inner you, your
Smile, your hee-haw laugh, the way you sip
Away on that very tall glass of pinot as if
It’s the last glass ever you’re going to have
And somebody says right there that means
So much to me, but really, now you’re asking
Where were we, well, we’ve really never even
Left, unlike all the friends you’ve walked away
From over the years, and all those troubles
That constantly wear you down, but now you’re
Here, with me, hoping to god there’s got to be
Some kind of meaning here, but what if there
Isn’t any meaning, and then you start being
A bit defensive, saying things like it doesn’t
Ever stop, or have inner rhyme, or why is it
Like this, but that’s what we have to face isn’t
It, that sometimes this is all we’re going to
See, and we could go even further and say
As far as we can feel, but truly I have no idea
Where you are, but I’m glad you stopped by
Even if you stopped much further up, knowing
This is something not worth bothering about,
But that’s okay, because I’m still here with
You, word by word, and hope you’ll feel as
Joyous as I am now about what’s here, now.
Maureen’s Gone and We’ll Be Gone Soon, Too
Was it that she was so thoughtful, or
Courageous to last as long as anyone
Ever imagined anyone could or was it
Just dumb luck that some of us just stay
Around a bit longer than we should but
Way too many leave us speechless even
Before we hear the news like just yesterday
Somebody whispered Maureen’s gone, too,
And how the heck weren’t we told something
She’s gone just like that, out in the blue,
Or maybe up there, but definitely somewhere
But not here anymore which makes me even
More certain how disgusting this news is that
One of our friends just high tails it out of here
Like that, on a whim, even if the whim
Was a lingering growth or maybe even
A shrinking brain as it’s way too hard
To get a hold of coroner’s reports
These days as they are guarded so care-
Fully in files no one really gives a hoot
About but maybe we do, and of course,
Of course, maybe we really don’t want
To know all the deterioration our friend,
And all of your friends as well, had to
Endure for much too long perhaps there’s
A better system, something like Soylent
Green, or something like that but even
If we tried that somebody just wouldn’t
Want to say okay I’m good to go because
There’s always something out there to
Do that we haven’t done yet and who’d
Want to miss that, but then, we’ve missed
A lot of what we don’t even know, right,
So maybe we should just take a slow deep
Breath and let it out like we did the other
Night when the lights were just about out.
©2019 DeWitt Clinton
Editor's Note: If this poem(s) moves you please consider writing to the author (email address above) to tell him or her. You might say what it is about the poem that moves you. Writing to the author is the beginning of community at Verse Virtual. It is very important. -FF