Poems

Poetry isn’t worth much,
it rustles quickly through the air,
fluttering with beauty,
thrashing in the ash,
provoking itself, rearing up,
and at once sucked back
into the screams of the empty stomach,
into the machine of life
that is neither on nor off.

Poetry isn’t worth much,
it lingers vague on screens,
like a lightning bolt loosed
into the chests of the city’s buildings,
twisting itself to the end
before returning to affairs of state,
before reopening the ledger of accounts,
before burying itself in beds—
it vanishes with one last tremor.

Poetry isn’t worth much,
but it’s to set fires that I write.

I had forgotten
where I was going,
what I was about to say,
my crown on the bedside table,
the day of your birthday,
the holes in my socks,
that the coffee was gone,
the lights, the sounds, the colors swarming,
that today was Sunday,
the bronze of the afternoon sun,
how the crickets sing,
to bring a flower to the cemetery,
how beautiful you were naked,
that I had shots to fire—
I had forgotten.

I don’t know how it could have happened.

I had forgotten
all my upheavals,
that I felt like a sink,
that arrogant man collapsing,
that know-it-all losing his bearings,
the day of my birthday,
death breathing down my neck,
that no one was looking for me,
that I had gotten everything wrong,
the kicks I had taken,
to read the news,
to take up the cross,
the darkness of night,
that everything will pass—
I had forgotten.

And I was right to have.

Before my government fell
there was the feeling
that brought upheaval,
and I lasted an instant.

And before going to work
there were the inner tubes,
taken with eyes closed,
and I lasted to survive.

And before the sparks of joy
there was a hard blow
that broke the engine,
and I lasted by burning.

And before you
everything seemed the same to me,
with hyenas laughing,
and I never lasted enough.

And before me
there was the beginning,
with mountains, seas, gods,
and I have lasted until now.

Then there was a breath
that held everything together—
governments and emotions,
inner tubes and waiting rooms,
the apneas, the flares of joy,
the chatter, the gasoline,
stomachaches, laughter,
contracts, Jesus Christ,
you, me, the baboons,
beginnings and endings,
the everythings and the nevers,
the nothings and the always.

And I lasted.
I lasted eternally.