Inevitably, I Am
I used to be a soft-spoken woman
seldom given to prosy, pointless ramblings
inevitably then, I stood painfully still
tightly controlled
only to go wild and ostensibly lawless
like all the things that used to percolate
underneath John Updike’s navy wool watch cap
I always wanted to lean forward and whisper into his ear
the narrow exploits of my bedlam
plunder his man-sized memories with a confessional poem
about a long column of obscure stretches spent
with illicit boys in books
but I was too cautious when I should have been vociferous
when I should have been writing fiction that was
contingent
on how quickly I was able to undo him, open him wide
Even as a wallflower my background was storm-lit
able to draw down the lightening
one clamorous bolt at a time
a survivor of fairy-tale thorns
set adrift on the ruins of
desire
and like Ezra Pound I paint my subjects as I conceive
them
potent
in whole areas of poetry
permissible as interpretative metaphors, rigorous in
rapture
I always wanted to carry out a well-intentioned scheme to
take
Ezra Weston Loomis Pound hostage
if only to quantify the implication of change rolling
around
in his decorous treatise on the proportions of
composition
I used to be a mild-mannered woman
rarely extended more than a single lyric to a perfect
song
inevitably then, I kept deafeningly quiet
skillfully
restrained
only to out-strip the world and prompt pandemonium
like the undeserved and pure
goodbyes
holstered on the meaty hips of rogue space-age cowboys
I always wanted to dig my fingers deep into
the sweetness of living
rummage and pillage, race toward the avalanche
of the prohibited province of universal incandescence
of the prohibited province of universal incandescence
to be bounteous and have the freedom to move
Inevitably, I Am
Phew. I finished it. This poem is almost a week old. Maybe a week and a few minutes. It started as noodles on a scrap of paper (as they often do) written with a second rate pen, during down-time, when half-asleep, on the go. It came in flashes and fits. I played happily with the format until the TAB button on my keyboard rejected me, I spaced it all out in frustration and in the end, I left it. I rather like the way it looks/feels this way and when I read it aloud I appreciated the pace. The shape. I almost charged myself with the 'rescue blues' but it worked out in the end.
I am happy the rain gave way to a bit of sunshine. To be sitting here now next to my window with a fresh cool breeze coming in and daylight waning, it's a peaceful moment. I relish it. There's nowhere else I'd rather be than here in my writing room with a playlist and good work to do. Coffee would complete the tableau. I am craving a smooth cup of Joe but it's too late and I'd never be able to sleep. Additionally, my taste-buds are still MIA from this cold that continues to cling. Ten days and counting. My ears feel like they are going to explode. I am on the mend, it's just much slower than I'd like.
Amazon and I had a pow-wow today. Time to amass a summer reading stack. I ordered 'The Year of Magical Thinking' by Joan Didion and 'A Visit From The Goon Squad' by Jennifer Egan. Adding them to a small pile sitting by my bed that I need to finish yet.
Must read. Must fill the well.
In propinquity,
Nic
