Thursday, April 18, 2013

STORMS OF TODAY

storms of today

this poem will not conclude with some wise lesson
i've learned from the dog
or even my description of her knowing look after our long walk
through the puddles and blown down blossoms of this mid-April Indiana day,
one storm after another.
the tornado watch is over now
but the wild sky blows on--
the appalling clouds, the drenching rain
pouring again after that brief twenty-thirty minute break
for puddle splashing if one were so inclined--
which i'm not, being alone--
for puddles are a joy to share in sunshine
or a performance requiring an other
or at least a little faith in something beyond the whirl.
so be it.
like i said
brace yourself because this isn't about rain or wind or clouds.
we have absolutely nothing to say about such things
and, more to the point, how is that a fit subject for poetic numbers?
(though William and Dorothy pretended to think it was)
get out there and get wet or get blasted or maybe get drowned
but why in the hell do you need to write about it?
what is this william stafford appreciation week?
no.
this poem like all poems is not about the rain, the wind,
the dog, or the sun that will inevitably and necessarily shine
its pathetic brainless lovely self into our gloom tomorrow or next month or
whenever it happens it really doesn't matter when.
a poem is a moan we make while in this and waiting for that,
some gibberish of the storm Lear knew,
the same one Hamlet couldn't leave yet couldn't shut up about
though he never said it true.
it says moon and rose
but means the gaps and silences between the miracle, the sirens,
and the dark.
you care about nature?
quit writing poems and do something about all the nests blown down today.
cradle and sing to those doomed turquoise eggs
and make them believe the future will be fine.
wait,
don't get all depressed.
I'm dead serious.
Don't wait for the Buddha, your dog, or some poet to tell you
what you already know--
get out there and rescue something
or try to.
it's the only thing that matters now.
the only thing that stops the rain

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