The Clock Has Struck 17
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This Was a Revelation
The Beatles were my first musical obsession. When I became a fan of the Beatles in middle school, I collected every recording, poured over every liner note, read biographies, studied the lyrics, listened to the solo projects . . .
It was the first time I’d gotten into music like this. I think it was around my sophomore year in high school that I hit my saturation point with the Beatles. I never stopped liking them, but I moved on. In high school and college, I found Neil Young, Frank Zappa, King Crimson, Steely Dan, Greatful Dead, Talking Heads, Joni Mitchell, Jaco Pastorious, Parliament/Funkadelic, Miles Davis, Charlie Mingus—to name just some, at random . . .
After my dad passed away in 1997, I took it to a new level with Frankie Newton. I compensated for the fact that he only has about 50 recorded songs by collecting recordings by everyone he associated with. For several years, I immersed myself in Newton’s musical milieu, high art, pre-Bop Jazz of the 1930s and 1940s, as well as the earlier stuff from the 1920s, the foundations.
After a while, the Jazz obsession mellowed. Maybe around 2000, I started actively listening again to music from the second half of the 20th century and to current 21st century stuff.
But, as I’ve mentioned before, it’s all come back around to the Beatles. With the help of YouTube, my 4-year-old has been doing with the Beatels what I did starting in around 5th grade. The favorite record for some time has been Let It Be. I am sure we have watched each song played on the rooftop of Apple Records at least 100 times. It’s a good thing the Beatles are so damn good, cause otherwise I’d be going out of mind.
Anyway, I’m telling you all of this to try to explain what it was like to hear this John Lennon outtake from 1968. I love the rooftop performance of “I’ve Got a Feeling.” And I’ve always thought that John makes the song with the song fragment he weaves into Paul’s bluesy love song. What I didn’t know until earlier tonight was that John had recorded “Everyone” separately. From what I could read online, there are a couple of versions out there. So far, I’ve just found this one. It’s rough around the edges, the Julia-like guitar part doesn’t seem totally worked out—and it is beautiful. John really gets me at the end. After the circular lyrics, delivered over repetitive guitar picking, he trails off with that “everybody got the wrong time, everybody got the wrong time . . .”
Better Late Than Never: Friday Random Ten
Howe Gelb, Living In A Waterfall
Elliott Smith, Somebody That I Used To Know
Louis Armstrong (Big Band), I’m In The Market For You
Giant Sand, Overture
Freedom Singers, Ain’t Gonna Let Nobody Turn Me Around
Shuggie Otis, Shuggie’s Old Time Slide Boogie
Frankie Newton, The Blues My Baby Gave To Me
Woodie Guthrie, Pick It Up
Califone, Bottles & Bones (Shade & Sympathy)
M. Ward, The Crooked Spine
Listening To The Many Voices Of Haifa
Did you hear this yesterday on All Things Considered?
It’s a short radio essay by Andrei Codrescu [realplayer] about his recent visit to Israel for a poetry conference. I said essay, but really it’s an amazing prose poem that speaks volumes about the historical importance, the beauty and the wonder of the Jewish homeland and the tragic brutality of its occupation of the Palestinian homeland—all in 3 minutes and 28 seconds.
If you’re like me, a loving supporter of Israel’s existence and deeply opposed to the occupation, you know that there is precious little public space alloted for the sort of understanding that Codrescu packs into his marvelous images.
Did You Know Alison Bechdel Has A Blog?
That’s right , Alison Bechdel, the brilliant cartoonist of Dykes To Watch Out For.
I’m not up on the whole web comics and print comics scene (though Ruth is big time… hmm maybe I can get a guest post out of her on web comics, since I’m mentioning them… no pressure Ruth)—but I love DTWOF.
The only reason I found out about the blog is because I was looking around at Professor B’s blogroll and noticed it there.
(For those following the little blogospheric controversy about blogrolls, this is also a mini plug for why y’all should keep ‘em. For the first time since I read him ten years ago, I’m actually tempted to quote Pierre Bourdieu: on how people who have power can shuck convention as a means of displaying their power. Fortunately I’m not sure where my copy of the right book is. If I dig it up, maybe I’ll copy out the paragraph.)
The Link Is Dead But It’s Not Forgotten. This Is The Story of Alberto Rotten.
Out of the blue and into the black
They give you this, but you pay for that
And once you’re gone, you can never come back
When you’re out of the blue and into the black . . .
The idea keeps coming up that Alberto Gonzales is going to make for a kinder, gentler DOJ.
Earlier today Lambert at Corrente posted on the latest example in this syrupy genre, but the crucial background link was dead. I asked for it in the comments; he fixed the link and was kind enough to let me know with an email.
Lambert hones in on one of those ever so slightly concerning moments from Gonzales’ tenure as White House Counsel that ought to cause at least a little more trouble for Bush’s nominee for Attorney General than it has so far:
the point on Gonzales isn’t that he thinks the Geneva convention is “quaint,” bad though that is. The point is that Gonzales wrote the brief that says Bush has the “inherent authority” to set aside the law[.]That’s not moderation in any sense of the word. In fact, it is, precisely, a revolution; taking power by overthrowing the rule of law. (emphasis in original)
If you want to read a little more about this, I suggest a concise but informative article by Phillip Carter in Slate:
Gonzales sat at the apex of the storm that swirled within the Bush administration’s legal ranks over the use of “coercive interrogation” practices and torture to extract information from detainees in Cuba, Afghanistan, and Iraq. One of the “torture memos,” produced in this period by the Justice Department’s Office of Legal Counsel for Gonzales, argued that the president had the extra-constitutional power to nullify both the Geneva Conventions and the federal war crimes statute when he deemed it necessary, based on his inherent authority as commander in chief of the armed forces. Another memo, produced by the Defense Department’s lawyers, opined that an interrogator was “guilty of torture only if he act[ed] with the express purpose of inflicting severe pain or suffering on a person within his custody or physical control.” Together, these legal policies and memoranda adopted by the Bush administration on Gonzales’ watch for the war on terrorism had the effect of eviscerating the nation’s institutional, moral, and legal constraints on the treatment and interrogation of prisoners. President Bush and Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld may not have personally ordered the abuses at Abu Ghraib, but on advice from lawyers like Gonzales, they adopted policies that set the conditions for those abuses and the worst scandal to affect the U.S. government since Watergate. Yet, despite the incredible damage done by this scandal to the nation’s political and moral standing in the world, not to mention its prospects of winning hearts and minds in the Middle East, no one of any significance has yet answered for these policies. Indeed, it appears many of the lawyers responsible for Abu Ghraib have been rewarded—OLC chief Jay Bybee now sits as a judge on the 9th Circuit Court of Appeals; Pentagon General Counsel William Haynes II was nominated (but not confirmed) for a seat on the 4 th Circuit; and now Gonzales stands to be promoted, too.
Carter also rightly expresses some concern about Gonzales’ work as former Governor Bush’s lawyer in the Texas State House:
The state of Texas executed 150 men and two women during Bush’s six-year tenure as governor—a rate unmatched by any other state in modern U.S. history. As governor, Bush had statutory power to delay executions and the political power to influence the state Board of Pardons and Paroles to commute them entirely, where there was a procedural error, cause for mercy, or a bona fide claim of innocence. Then-Gov. Bush assigned Gonzales a critical role in the clemency process—asking him to provide a legal memo on the morning of each execution day outlining the key facts and issues of the case at hand. According to Alan Berlow, who obtained Gonzales’ memoranda after a protracted legal fight with the state of Texas and wrote about them in the July/August 2003 issue of the Atlantic Monthly, Gonzales’ legal skills fell far short of the mark that one might expect for this serious task:A close examination of the Gonzales memoranda suggests that Governor Bush frequently approved executions based on only the most cursory briefings on the issues in dispute. In fact, in these documents Gonzales repeatedly failed to apprise the governor of crucial issues in the cases at hand: ineffective counsel, conflict of interest, mitigating evidence, even actual evidence of innocence.
On the basis of these memos, Gov. Bush allowed every single execution—save one—to go forward in his state. It’s not clear whether Bush directed Gonzales to provide such superficial and conclusory legal research, or whether Gonzales did so of his own accord. Regardless, the point remains that the White House’s new nominee to head the Justice Department turned in work that would have barely earned a passing grade in law school, let alone satisfy the requirements of a job in which life and death were at stake. Perhaps more important, these early memos from Texas revealed Gonzales’ startling willingness to sacrifice rigorous legal analysis to achieve pre-ordained policy results at the drop of a Stetson.
I happened to be listening to NPR when they covered the press conference where Bush made the Gonzales nomination. Gonzales made a statement, closing with heartfelt thanks to Bush:
Finally, to our President, when I talk to people around the country I sometimes tell them that within the Hispanic community there is a shared hope for an opportunity to succeed. “Just give me a chance to prove myself” — that is a common prayer for those in my community. Mr. President, thank you for that chance. With the consent of the Senate, God’s help and the support of my family, I will do my best to fulfill the confidence and trust reflected in this nomination.
Carter, a former U.S. Army officer, hits a grand slam to drive home the hypocrisy in all of this:
In the days since the presidential election, the conventional wisdom has emerged that President Bush won re-election on the basis of values. And fittingly, he has pledged to govern on the basis of his mandate from the American people to implement those values. But the Gonzales appointment makes clear that the Bush administration prizes certain values—such as personal loyalty as the president’s consigliere—over more democratic ones such as accountability and a commitment to the rule of law.
There’s more to the picture
Than meets the eye
Hey hey, my my . . .
Who Knows Tulsa?
A friend of a friend needs to go from the Pacific Northwest to Tulsa, Oklahoma because of a family crisis there. She has no contacts in Tulsa, outside of the person she’s going there to help. It would be very helpful to her if she could learn about community resources in Tulsa—church groups, women’s groups, social service agencies, justice groups. If you know Tulsa and can give me any information to pass on, please drop me a line.
Samuel Iwry
One who learns from his colleague one chapter, or one halakha, or one verse, or one expression, or even one letter, is obliged to pay him honor. This we learn from David, King of Israel, who learned but two things from Akhitofel, yet called him his master, his guide, his dear friend, as it is wrtten, “But it is you, my equal, my guide, my dear friend” (Psalm 55:14). It follows, then, that if King David, who learned only two things from Akhitofel, called him his master, his guide, his dear friend, one who learns from his coleagues one chapter, one halakhah, one verse, one espression, or even one letter surely is obliged to pay him honor. (Pirkei Avot, 6:3)
I was going through unread RSS feeds and found that Jim at Paleojudaica posted a link to the Washington Post obituary for Professor Samuel Iwry, who died on Saturday, May 8 at age 93.
When I was doing my masters in the Writing Seminars at Johns Hopkins, back in 1993, I had to pass off on a language requirement. (This is also where I met Jonathan David Jackson, mentioned in this recent post). I’d decided that I had a better chance at breezing through a Hebrew exam than I did at doing well in French, so I was referred to Samuel Iwry as the professor who would examine me.
At the time, I knew nothing about him. I did not realize he’d been such an important scholar or that he’d led such an interesting life.
Samuel Iwry Dies at 93; Scholar Helped Decode Dead Sea Scrolls
By Patricia Sullivan
Washington Post Staff Writer
Thursday, May 13, 2004; Page B06Samuel Iwry, 93, a scholar of the Dead Sea Scrolls whose life story could rival the plot of an international adventure novel, died of a stroke May 8 at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore.
—snip—
Mr. Iwry made his mark as a scholar when he was a graduate student studying under the renowned archaeologist William Foxwell Albright at Johns Hopkins. His Hebrew language skills helped identify and verify the importance of the Dead Sea Scrolls.
His traditional Jewish education trained him well for the task. He was born in Bialystok, Poland, and graduated from Warsaw University’s Higher Institute for Judaic Studies in 1937, with accolades for his facility with Hebrew. His surname means “Hebrew” in the language, and family history says Mr. Iwry was a direct descendant of the founder of the Hasidic movement, Rebbe Israel Baal Shem Tov, who died in 1760.
When the Nazis invaded Poland in 1939, Mr. Iwry became a leader in the underground resistance and escaped to Lithuania. He narrowly survived the crossing of Russia to reach Kobe, Japan, in 1941. He then made his way to Shanghai.
David Ben-Gurion, who later became Israel’s first prime minister, appointed Mr. Iwry to serve as Far East representative for the Jewish Agency for Palestine. His job was to negotiate with the British authorities for the escape of thousands of Jewish families who lived in the Far East. After enabling thousands to emigrate to Palestine, Mr. Iwry was captured by the Japanese occupying forces, imprisoned in Shanghai and tortured.
—snip—
As more [Dead Sea] scrolls were discovered into the early 1950s, scholars kept a special phone line between Jerusalem and Baltimore, through London. As Israeli scholars reported what was on the scrolls, Mr. Iwry was on the phone with Albright, giving him “a kind of intimate involvement with the scrolls that people don’t know about,” McCarter said. Mr. Iwry wrote the first doctoral dissertation on the scrolls and was regarded throughout his life as the expert on them. He completed his doctorate degree in 1951 at Johns Hopkins.
Mr. Iwry was a popular teacher and lecturer, especially in Israel, where he drew large crowds who wanted to hear him speak Hebrew “because he spoke it as it was intended to be spoken,” McCarter said. “It was not only for what Sam said, but how he said it that was so beautiful. . . .
Between college and graduate school, I lived in Eugene, Oregon from 1991-1993. I went back to Delmar, NY to live with my parents for the summer of 1993, before I went on to Baltimore for my year at Hopkins. Though I felt more confident in my Hebrew than in my French, I was still sure that I needed to brush up on Hebrew grammar basics. My mom set me up with tutoring from a professor at SUNY Albany, an Israeli linguist who also has a background in Biblical studies. Throughout the summer, I met with her once or twice a week. We’d decided I would take my exam in modern Hebrew, rather than Biblical Hebrew, so she put me through intense drills of basic Hebrew vocabulary, usage and construction rules for all of the Hebrew prepositions and pronouns, conjunctions, the definite article—and, of course, Hebrew verb paradigms (binyanim).
My tutor wanted me to pass the exam, but it also sort of seemed she was concerned that my performance on the exam would reflect on her professionally. My parents were paying for one hour sessions, but my tutor would generally keep me for as long as she felt she could successfully hammer more Hebrew language into my brain. We would work through section after section of her own, unpublished Hebrew textbook. Every so often, unexpectedly, she would shout in Hebrew across the house to her son, S., a few years younger than I, would he take out the trash, did he remember to go to the bank, had he called his father, etc, etc.
Frequently it wasn’t until an hour and a half or even two hours later, that my eyes would finally glaze over and my tutor would be satisfied that my mind had reached it’s point of maximum Hebrew saturation for that day. She then would give me a pile of blank verb paradigm charts for me to fill in for multiple examples of each kind of verb we’d worked on, along with pages of English sentences for me translate into Hebrew. All my Hebrew sentences were to include vocalization marks (vowels); though fluent speakers and readers don’t usually need the marks and don’t use them, they carry grammatical information, which my tutor wanted me to master. At the end of the summer, my tutor made a list of the areas we hadn’t yet covered and gave me a pile of assignment sheets to take with me to Baltimore, which I was then to send back to her for her to correct and return to me. Anytime I ever had any question about Hebrew grammar, I could and should call her, she said.
Things started up at Hopkins. We had our orientation. I was assigned my advisor, and we worked out my courses and filled out the registration forms. Then there was the wine and cheese welcoming of the new masters students—scheduled on Rosh Hashanah until I complained (“but we asked the Jewish faculty and they said it would be fine . . .”). Then it was time to go see Dr. Iwry. (At Johns Hopkins it is considered decorous to address the professors as Dr.—this after my undergrad years at Brandies where it was typical for undergraduates to address their professors by first name.) When I arrived at Dr. Iwry’s office and asked him when we could schedule my Hebrew exam, he would not discuss a date with me. Instead he insisted I begin sitting in on one of the intermediate level undergraduate Hebrew courses. He also sent me off with a reader* of classic Hebrew stories and essays from the first half of the 20th century and said that when I felt I could handle the readings and answer the Hebrew study questions he would give me the exam.
This was nearly eleven years ago, so I don’t remember all the details so clearly now. But my visits to Dr. Iwry’s office went on for a good portion of the semester. I’d show up and report on how I did with the readings he’d specified and then he’d give me something else to do. In between visits with Dr. Iwry, I’d occasionally call up my summer tutor with questions about my work from Dr. Iwry. Each time I called, her exasperation would intensify. How could this Iwry be questioning what she taught me?! But she would also discuss in detail with me any of my questions. And she had me send her some of my work in the mail so she could look it over. Finally after about two months of this, Dr. Iwry agreed to examine me. The exam consisted of reading passages and answering questions from the the same reader he had given me the first time we met. I asked Dr. Iwry if he wanted me to include the vocalization marks. He said that wasn’t necessary. My tutor had been a stickler about the vocalization marks, so I decided to put them in anyway, just to show Dr. Iwry what I knew.
After about a week, I went back in Dr. Iwry’s office to find out the results of my exam. When I walked in, Dr. Iwry sternly told me to sit down. “Mr. Greenberg,” he said, “you’ve passed the exam.” After a weighty pause, he continued, “most students don’t have Hebrew like yours. If you don’t keep studying, you’re in big trouble.” I don’t remember what was said next, but after another minute or two I was on my way and did not see Dr. Iwry again.
To date, I have somewhat failed Dr. Iwry. I crammed hard for all those months before the exam but didn’t have much cause to use my new skills during the intense year of graduate courses, writing workshops, and thesis writing (a manuscript of poems). Though I’ve made periodic attempts to brush up on what I learned for Dr. Iwry’s exam, I’ve forgotten a lot of the fine points of Hebrew vocalization marks. Nowadays, when it comes to the Hebrew verb paradigms, I only remember the most basic forms—though I had been able to construct most of the exceptional forms.
I tell this story about Dr. Iwry every so often, but it’s only at this writing that I think I understand his behavior. As far as he was concerned Hebrew was not a subject that one treats expediently, as a means to satisfy a program requirement. He didn’t want to give the exam until he had some confidence that I might approach the study of Hebrew for its own sake.
If I am correct about Dr. Iwry’s intentions, then I feel even worse than I used to about my lapses in Hebrew study. But I console myself with two thoughts. First, I assume I will return to more serious study of Hebrew. I still aspire to read serious Hebrew literature for pleasure. Second, I like to think there is at least one thing I am dong right now that would please Dr. Iwry. When I tutor boys and girls for their bar/bat-mitzvahs (my part-time job in the evenings), I very frequently teach them something arcane about Hebrew vocalization marks—the rules for distinguishing between a sheva nach and a sheva na. The sheva is a vocalization mark (it looks like a colon (:) underneath a letter) that sometimes gets pronounced as a semi-syllable, a quick “eh,” and sometimes is silent (it’s the difference between saying “yoshvei” and “yo’she’vei“). Most Hebrew readers and speakers, even fluent ones, simply do whatever sounds “right” to them, based on whatever conglomeration of regional pronunciation habits they have imbibed from others in their communities. For non-fluent readers, the sheva can be the key to understanding how to parse the syllables of a Hebrew word. I also figure that the kids I teach are too removed from the processes of acculturation that taught their parents and grandparents their habits of Hebrew pronunciation. For these reasons, I prefer to teach my students a rational system. The message is that they themselves can figure out the correct pronunciation, without having to guess and without having to wait for someone else to tell them how it’s done. The result is pronunciation that is not entirely the practice of any community of speakers. But my approach satisfies my need and my students’ that I be consistent in my instruction.
When my next students celebrate their bar-mitzvahs and bat-mtizvahs, I hope Dr. Iwry will be listening and that these young people make him smile.
———————
*I’ve been racking my brains to remember the name of the book Dr. Iwry gave me to study. It was a hard cover reader, the readings, questions and front-matter all in Hebrew. My impression is that it was published several decades ago and is considered a classic book of its kind. Anyone out there have any idea what book I’m talking about?
Blog of note: Jerusalem Wanderings
jerusalem wanderings is a new blog by, Leah, an American born Israeli woman. She’s only been blogging since April, so if you go there now you can read all the posts pretty quickly and be on board for what looks like a great blog to follow. There are several reasons why I love reading jw. For one thing, if you follow events in Israel, even if you follow them closely, it’s hard to get any sense of what life is like for people living there. Leah gives many wonderful details that capture bits of daily life in Jerusalem. Also, I like her politics. Outside of Israel, if you’re on the left about Israeli-Palestinian issues and you love Israel, you can end up feeling quite embattled and lonely. Leah doesn’t pontificate about politics. She reports on Israeli-Palestinian peace movement stuff, but mostly her politics are expressed in what she tells about her personal interactions and experiences. Leah’s been living in Israel probably for 20 years or more. There’s plenty personal and political that could make her cynical and bitter. But her love of life in Israel is intoxicating. Her love of Palestinians and their culture is also clear. She doesn’t hesitate to call folks on their stupid racist assumptions about Palestinians. Let’s, see what else . . . the writing is unpretentious and really good. Anyway, go read it . . .
(I found jw while surfing the Jewish Bloggers Webring ( >>) and then realized I’d already read about it in my friend Rebecca’s blog, Mystical Politics. Rebecca is currently collecting links to blogs by Orthodox / ultra-Orthodox / Hasidic Jews. If you want to learn about that world, you can find some good links on Mystical Politics. If you know of some good Ortho blogs, stop at Rebecca’s blog and leave her a comment or email her with your links.)
Correction: Heard from Leah herself, who told me she’s been living in Israel 10 years, not 20. I guessed wrong based on the ages of her children. I assumed her children were all born in Israel, but that was not the case.
Poem On Your Blog Day
Of course once I started thinking I’d post something for Ronn’s Poem On Your Blog Day, books started raining off the poetry shelves. But given the hour, I’m going to try to keep to just a poem or two.
I have a favorite poem—among many favorite poems—which is not a truly great poem. Or maybe it is a great poem, but compared to other poems by the same author it’s hard to call it great and be emphatic about it.
The poem is by Frank O’Hara.
POEM
That’s not a cross look it’s a sign of life
but I’m glad you care how I look at you
this morning (after I got up) I was thinking
of President Warren G. Harding and Horace S.
Warren, father of the little blonde girl
across the street and another blonde Agnes
Hedlund (this was in the 6th grade!) what
now the day has begun in a soft grey way
with elephantine traffic trudging along Fifth
and two packages of Camels in my pocket
I can’t think of one interesting thing Warren
G. Harding did, I guess I was passing notes
to Sally and Agnes at the time he came up
in our elephantine history course everything
seems slow suddenly and boring except
for my insatiable thinking towards you
as you lie asleep completely plotzed and
gracious as a hillock in the mist from one
small window, sunless and only slightly open
as is your mouth and presently your quiet eyes
your breathing is like that history lesson
(1960)
Little things in this poem take my breath away:
1. The whole poem takes place as the speaker’s lover’s eyes are opening from sleep. The lover’s eyes are opening in the first two lines and they’re still just opening in the last two lines.
2. What that “what,” hanging off the end of the last line of the first stanza, does to the tone of the second the stanza.
3. “elephantine traffic”
a) something about that gets the feeling of watching traffic from the my recently deceased (both at 99, 6 weeks apart), maternal grandparents’ 13th floor window on the lower east side of Manhattan (the co-op apartments on Grand Street, between Essex and Clinton). When I was a small boy, I’d stand at the window, looking out over my grandmother’s plants on the sill, and watch the cars and the pedestrians and the bigger kids playing basketball.
b) the way “elephantine” comes associatively from the day’s “soft grey way” the same way Horace S. Warren comes from Warren G. Harding and blonde Agnes come from the first blonde girl. The two packages of Camels in the speaker’s pocket probably would not have come up except for the similar kind of associative thinking that gets him from elephants to camels.
4. “thinking towards you”
There is a beautiful emotion in this even as it seems to complain of being too cerebral.
5. the last 5 lines
The subtle shifts in tone and diction are marvelous. O’Hara masters similar effects more perfectly in other poems. But if it’s slightly clumsy here, it’s also charming without exactly trying to be so.
6. “your breathing is like that history lesson”
This is a beautiful line. Such quiet, understated tragedy. The speaker is able to expand the millisecond of his lover’s beautiful waking by allowing his distractable nature to have free reign. The speaker’s mind flits from association to association, whether in word, image, or memory. He means to be enraptured by his lover’s breathing but he’s missing it the same way he missed whatever it was he should have learned about Warren G. Harding (whose name is so ugly, compared to the rest of the words in this poem).
The second poem I want to include is by Muriel Rukeyser. By chance it has the same generic title as O’Hara’s poem. I’m not going to comment on this one except to say it is a favorite of mine because of how it helped me to feel less alone in the aftermath of September 11.
POEM
I lived in the first century or world wars.
Most mornings I would be more or less insane,
The newspapers would arrive with their careless stories,
The news would pour out of various devices
Interrupted by attempts to sell products to the unseen.
I would call my friends on other devices;
They would be more or less mad for similar reasons.
Slowly I would get to pen and paper,
Make my poems for others unseen and unborn.
In the day I would be reminded of those men and women
Brave, setting up signals across vast distances,
Considering a nameless way of living, of almost unimagined values.
As the lights darkened, as the lights of night brightened,
We would try to imagine them, try to find each other.
To construct peace, to make love, to reconcile
Waking with sleeping, ourselves with each other,
Ourselves with ourselves. We would try by any means
To reach the limits of ourselves, to reach beyond ourselves,
To let go the means, to wake.
I lived in the first century of these wars.
(from The Speed of Darkness, 1968)
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