I tell myself to think happy thoughts
but can’t think of any: still,
thinking of thinking happy thoughts
helps, sort of putting me on the side
of possibility: not that there aren’t
happy thoughts to think if you think
of all the blessings here patent and
available to thinking: misery comes
up with an image or two that blots
out frail peripheries of joy: wait,
wait: give it a little time, stuff
eases by: wait and see: think
happy thoughts: sharply conceive:
engaged as we are with sex these
sexless days—everybody afraid of
everybody else—I have engaged the
pronunciation of harassment as my
special interest, and I prefer
HAIR-is-mint to
her-Ass-ment
the latter too precise, it almost
advertises what it condemns: I’ll
tell you, language, like nature, will
sometimes just undo itself: what a
narrow strip this walled road is:
shave a micron or two and you’re
off-roading: try to get a whole
stretch out, and you get cut back:
see what it will do and before you
can your speed is broken: I declare
I don’t know what to do with this
thing, these cramps, this breaking
back: oh, yes, typing is not easy
these days, especially for those
already accustomed to computers:
they can’t go back—what? and erase
things or do whole pages over or
type the whole poem over to station
it differently on the page: they
won’t do: their backs are sped: of
course, sometimes they push the wrong
button and the hard stuff dissolves
or vandals tear off with a
computer in a hard drive to fly: I
have nothing to say I can’t take all
day at, because fifty years of yapping,
what have I finalized, not that one
can’t be diffident about finalization:
computers cannot give me back what
I want, which is what neither I nor
the computer ever heard of before:
the happening of something that never
happened, laying it out not so much
that nature can be abrogated as that
its becoming is unencompassed: I’m
sorry, I don’t care about information:
I can make up all I need: