AT THE EDGE OF A DEEP, DARK WOOD, RE-PURPOSED DOLPHIN SPEAKS
it almost always is
the they whose blueprints and schematics whirligig
I am desiring my god-effect
a squeak, click, brush of air so someone has the sense of being kissed
in the saturated sand before the wilderness of the
our fortress is on five kinds of fire
should we not move forward at a keening kneel
much celebrant in the throes of nothing
Convince me. I say the knives are fearful
Today men who were once
who calculated the vectors of forces diverse
shooting of stuff into the stratosphere.
a detective soldiery rifles the graveyard
it is unweird for a dolphin to shimmy loose
the edge of a deep, dark wood.
we have made too much mention of light,
A poison glides severely
else paint the world
running with rickshaws full of ice?
under the impossible, darling weight of an ocean.
There's always a "they." On NPR, I hear of a scientific "they" who propose to cool the earth by shooting chemical blurs into the stratosphere, technology is funny, belief is funny and of course they is really we, too. Once we all wore short pants or no pants. Horace said we shouldn't put a dolphin in the woods but what does he know about gunships lacing the skies above miles of mall parking lots? Still, he deserves a shout out. Can Art save us? Probably not, but it's one weapon in the arsenal that BANG! produces the effect of existential meaning, poetry's sonic, linguistic interpretations of the interior negotiation with sensory experience before history's tsunami. No take-backs! Terror before the miscues! but this is not the only apocalypse we've waded through. There's something about the finite that makes glisten so poignant. Charles Gunn: "When nothing you do matters, then all that matters is what you do." In the face of deletion, we clutter always the void. Beauty and despair, right? Even if that's setting yourself on fire in a Wal-mart parking lot or getting married in disguise in a stranger's back yard. Or writing a thank you note. You flush the firework to get the fountain. Too scared to love is scared enough to do more harm. Saddam Hussein had begun work on a supergun I hear on the radio and immediately think of an Itchy & Scratchy bit from The Simpsons and can't help but wonder if that's where he got the idea. In the midst of the greatest tragedies, people get hungry. We've gotten to the point where everything almost simultaneously is great and terrible: you dial up a rescue on your cellular telephone and a hive dessicates, the flowers furiously yearning. All we can do is all we can do. Moving can be moving, isn't that great? Only in Art can I put you or is that me? under the weight of an ocean, only in real life can you not fly beneath this weight or wave grenades into startled birds. At least not yet.