Saturday, November 15, 2014

C.K.  Williams
appears again

by Roberto Lavidez

there are
matters
that can’t
be coped
with in
reflecting
on life
or love
or sometimes
it seems
anything
at all
the struggle
I thought
was all
my own
with the
horrors that
affected all
humanity
what an
unreasonable
demand
the word
asks of the
structures
people
contrive
to erect
against the
insistent
demands
of gravity
the thoughts
that rage
with your
voice
with your
words
your fear
your dread
your terror
and your
roaring
desire
which?
quick!
which?
too late…
too late
again
appears again
disappears
appears
vivid in 
the brilliant
sunlight
again is
gone
again is
there
one thinks
Rimbaud
again
his crippling
gift
his own
plunge
towards
death
forlorn-looking
language poets
hawking books
that haven’t
sold for
decades
and won’t
ever
to have
your voice
wrenched
from the
exercise
of the will
what other
tendrils of
the soul
would be
torn out
with it?
reality isn’t
dimmed
diminished
thrown out
of focus by
my struggle
with myself
who would
bring me
back through
these erasures
and annihilations
my oblivion
my sleep?
they don’t
sleep
but rather
just lie there
seeming
to need
to rest
from the
exertion
of existing
after all had
subsided
you were
given to
understand
that was that
you nod
and nod
out you’re
taken by
those waves
of tremulous
chill in
the layer
between
skin and
flesh
would
I want
to know
how an
old lover
whom I
last saw
when she
was twenty
would look
at seventy?
actually
I would

©robertolavidez2014  










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