Wednesday, July 01, 2009

For Simone and Etel

What if Charles Olson
Had gotten that Fulbright
To travel to Iraq would
We be sitting here right

Now before a revolution
After a war would the sun
Be late in the afternoon
Like some angel of no

One’s culture wishing
Things were different
This world we can see
Everyday with our eyes

Not a subtle one just the
Familiar stench of wealth
In Manhattan's Upper
West Side in contrast

It is so subtle to be
With you in conversation
Admire the bright ivy
Covering the back

Edifice of your apart-
ment building the Persian
Rugs and the books
Missing from your

Bookcases as if you
Were barely moved in
More likely in transit
The simplicity of

Your kitchen the fruit
On your table cherries
And red grapes a warm
Aesthetic of Sufism.

“Such distances are short”
--Etel Adnan

Like the progress one makes
From sign-to-sign site-to-site
Since now we must be earth-bound

We can imagine other ages
Aeons when this isn’t so when
There is here where I is you

And this horizon is continually
Thin always waking smelling sweet
Becoming smells sweeter being

With you there is recourse to
Sensuality a kind of thinking or
Nonsense because the sun says so.