There, There

The poem begins in a place –

A lake, a bed, a meteorological condition –

And then a person emerges.

 

Sometimes the person isn’t an “I,”

But is just a person observing nature.

I can’t write the nature poems

Because I have not spent enough time

Learning the names of living things.

Who needs a list of flora anyway,

Or the image of fauna doing something portentous?

 

Confession, though: I love the moment

In that Robert Hass poem where

The some-bird (gull? Swallow?)

Flies down close to the surface of the water

And marries its own image for an instant.

 

There’s often more to say about not being a poet

Than there is to say about not being anything else.

For example, why am I writing a poem

If just a few moments ago

I looked up the words “indolent”

And “indigent” just to make sure

That I’ve been using them correctly?

It must be true: I’ve used up

All the nouns and adjectives

I will ever know.

 

After the “I” becomes manifest, we get

Treated to a clue as to the motive force,

Which is usually forlornness masked

As the imparting of wisdom. If the writer

Is not an “issues” poet, we will be spared

Talk of genocide, mass graves, physical misery

On a scale unimaginable to the New Englander

Or Midwesterner whose book collection

Contains duplicates of every major title housed therein.

 

How many people will admit to skipping

Down the page, or skimming a number of

Same-same lines, just to get to the ending?

The meat, the wrap, the stuffed crust:

A couplet that could be boiled down to a platitude,

Burgeoning with heft – valu-packed

“Now with rhyme!”

Songwriters and sloganeers alike breathe a sigh of relief.

 

Have I captured anything? Has there been a risk?

Probably not. If you skipped to the end,

This is it.

 

Making the world safe for people with challenging tastes who occasionally like non-challenging fare

Here’s a theory: a lot of people watch “How I Met Your Mother.” However, no one talks about watching “How I Met Your Mother” (which is a surprisingly satisfying as a sitcom, in a very conventional way), so no one knows if it’s ok to like “How I Met Your Mother.” Sure, I’m eager to discuss “Community” and “Game of Thrones” with people, but “How I Met Your Mother”? Not so much. And I’d love to talk about some aspects of the show – like how everyone on it is fairly likable, except for the main character – but I can’t, because no one talks about it.  This is a strange conspiracy of silence. We were all confused when, in the hubbub about Charlie Sheen, several media outlets claimed that “Two and a Half Men” was somehow a widely watched show – come on, the only way that’s true is if you count international markets (seriously, everyone in Brazil watches it) and airplane passengers who are technically asleep but whose screens are still on.

 

But “How I Met Your Mother”? When I take the trouble of asking, it turns out that a lot of people watch it. So, I’m here to tell you, it’s ok to talk about “How I Met Your Mother.” But if someone walks by, and you suddenly switch to “Community,” I won’t judge you.