March 18, 2011

Good night

Snowshoe to Otter Creek -Stacie Cassarino

love lasts by not lasting
—Jack Gilbert

I’m mapping this new year’s vanishings:
lover, yellow house, the knowledge of surfaces.
This is not a story of return.
There are times I wish I could erase
the mind’s lucidity, the difficulty of Sundays,
my fervor to be touched
by a woman two Februarys gone. What brings the body
back, grieved and cloven, tromping these woods
with nothing to confide in? New snow reassumes
the circleting trees, the bridge above the creek
where I stand like a stranger to my life.
There is no single moment of loss, there is
an amassing. The disbeliever sleeps at an angle
in the bed. The orchard is a graveyard.
Is this the real end? Someone shoveling her way out
with cold intention? Someone naming her missing?

--
Quick poem post before I go to bed.
The image of the circleting trees... how absolutely gorgeous. What a beautiful word. What a beautiful world.

Tonight has been productive: finished my wealth and poverty paper, applied to a bunch of internships (ah-ha I am such a procrasticator), met up with Auyong + his friend from UChig, had reckless car ride to drunken frat house, had laksa cup noodles, and good conversation about (of all things) football and basketball. 3.30am (how did it get so late? I didn't even party; I stayed home writing my paper) and I have 8am class tomorrow~~ This truly is the start of SPRING BREAK!

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