I.
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.
II.
“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.
