Wednesday, March 28, 2018

He Was a Visitor, or: Born Eighty-Eight Years Ago Today




Alice Notley

Okay part of it’s
here. See it,
I want you to see my brother, dead smiling
in a red short-sleeved shirt,
You look so much better
I got through.
  How does time work for you?
I can see where — when — I felt bad.
Goes past. I’m not in it any more
But this change hasn’t happened in time — a kind of
before and after but no ... continuum.
You look brilliant! I
never let you down — he says — did I?
It wasn’t possible,          Why not?
Sisters and brothers are loyal,
we are the primal particles.
I saw how we connected to make a shape
in the eyes of the beholder who chose it: But we
are not that. What I see is free to change its outline.
My story: the shadow of one. Why did I
shrink into a story? It’s easier to talk
as a person, but why? I guess we decided to, talking.
Coyote throws the stars up into the sky.