That’s the first indication it will turn out badly. The second indication is that I have nothing to say. Here is what time is doing lately: inching, edging, creeping, lurking. It is twisting in my back. It doesn’t spare me, it doesn’t take pity on me. It doesn’t let me sit by the side of the road for a minute to rest my legs. It treads, it marches, it drags me along with it.
In class the other day, my professor quoted this poem by Bill Knott:
The only response
to a child’s grave is
to lie down before it and play dead
I have been trying. I have been motioning surrender with my hands and my feet. I have been telling time to stop, to reverse. I’ve been holding as still as I possibly can. I’ve breathed in nothing but dirt and November. I’ve frozen my mouth so it’s beyond words. And yet I will wake up tomorrow. Tomorrow I will wake up.
11/02/2010 at 10:22 am Permalink
Dearest Wistar,
By saying a little, you conveyed a lot. My heart is with you, my dear.
Love,
Robin
22/02/2010 at 8:35 pm Permalink
Wistar,
You write beautifully - and for what it is worth… we love you and your family.
Much peace to you Wistar, much peace,
Lauren
09/01/2011 at 8:06 pm Permalink
i hope your professor is reading some good poems in addition to mine!
in any case, all my books of poetry can be downloaded FREE at:
http://www.lulu.com/browse/search.php?fListingClass=0&fSearch=Bill+Knott