Sunday, August 13, 2017

Here I Am, Lord, Sitting on My Suitcase


Franz Wright

Were no one
here to witness it,
could the sun be
said to shine? Clearly,
you pedantic fool.
But I’ve said all that
I had to say.
In writing.
I signed my name.
It’s death’s move.
It can have mine, too.
It’s a perfect June morning,
and I just turned eighteen;
I can’t even believe
what I feel like today.
Here am I, Lord,
sitting on a suitcase,
waiting for my train.
The sun is shining.
I’m never coming back.


  1. 1)in Explanation of America: A Love of Death pinsky asks us to imagine an event taking place on the prairie 80 years ago, or more - since the book was published in 1979, this means pre-1900

    blood and soil enter into the incident pinsky imagines, but not in the way meant by those who practice identity politics of the right-wing persuasion

    i think of the wild grasses and the buffalo, native american species, flourishing under one sociopolitical ecology and material culture, displaced by migrants from other continents as new waves of human energy and technological organization manifested themselves

    stuff happens - live it, live with it, or get out of the way, one way or another

    2)i've started reading robert wright's new book why buddhism is true - i regret that a previous engagement means i cannot attend his talk at politics and prose, the dc bookstore, tomorrow evening - august 15

    1. with regard to politics and prose, and robert wright's appearance at the bookstore of the same name in d.c. tonight, which i unfortunately cannot attend due to a previous engagement, possibly the discussion may turn to the topic of the following:

      The author of Why Buddhism Is True thinks mindfulness can be a weapon against Trumpism.

    2. the line from franz wright's poem which titles this post reminds me of the song "high flying bird" - judy henske (who is 80 but still alive, our friends at wikipedia inform me) performed this song on the tv show hootenanny in 1963, which may have been my first exposure to it