what is it

after all

(R. Kipling, M. Hacker, W. Kees, K. Philips, G.Hongo,

R. Pinsky, A. Rich, R.Wilbur, M.Williams, W.H. Auden,

L. Broido, R. Haas, H. Nemerov, J. Harjo, S. Smith)

by Roberto Lavidez

what is

imagination

but your

lost child

born to

give birth

to you?

follow poet

follow right

to the

bottom

of the night

with your

unconstraining

voice

still

persuade us

to rejoice

it doesn’t

matter

how we

come to be

whether

we are

someplace

where

nothing

goes

the way

it went

once

where

nothing

holds fast

to where

it belongs

or what

you’ve risen

or fallen to

the thing

I came for

the wreck

and not

the story

of the

wreck

the thing

itself

and not

the myth

tonight

I read about

Descartes’

grand

courage

to doubt

everything

except

his own

miraculous

existence

and I

feel so

distinct

from the

wounded

man lying

on the

concrete

I am

ashamed

sometimes

I wished

to go away

forever;

I dreamt of

strangers

and of

stranger

rooms

where every

corner held

the light

of guilt

we grope

though

languages

and hesitate

and touch

each other

speechless

and amazed

what do it

matter

where or

‘ow we die

so long

as we’ve

our ‘ealth

to watch

it all

what on

earth

deserves

our trust

youth and

beauty

both are

dust

what is it

after all

but

something

missed?

it is the

water of a

dried-up

well

in the

finished

world

I will be

wind-awry

will be

out of mind

in asylum

of the quiet

that fell

on a

clotted

room

o swallows

swallows

poems

are not

the point

finding again

the world

that is

the point

where

loveliness

adorns

intelligible

things

because

the mind’s

eye

lit the sun

there are

moments

when the

body is as

numinous

as words

days that

are the

good flesh

continuing

I was far

too much

far out

all my life

and not

waving but

drowning

perhaps

the world

will end

at the

kitchen

table

while we

are laughing

and crying

eating

of the

last sweet

bite

©robertolavidez2014