POEM WITH LINES FROM PIERRE REVERDY

Maybe the world will not be saved.

It will not be saved. Its commerce, its

every case moves into it’s geology

and then that geology moves

into some great exit of slowing

clocks and the history of saved light.

Listen, I’m not crazy. I want you to save

something for me. If someone says

something false, I will tell that person

“you are false” because I am full

of exaggerations and energy

and also because sunlight scatters

across this lake and just one beam

is enough to make my body insane.

The world will not be saved by despair

so we should spend it all on joy, right?

I despair. Does he despair? The desperate

characters walk onto the stage.

The stage a lake the lake a self I staged

The lake the self I staged. They sing

off key like me. There is no

harmony but when the children clap their

little hands, well, neither is there simile.

I washed the dishes; I folded the laundry.

I wanted to walk around

this lake like an innocent.