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You – I
for Pat Silliman
Hard dreams. The moment at which you recognize that your own death lies in wait somewhere
within your body. A lone ship defines the horizon. The rain is not safe to drink.
In Grozny, in Bihac, the idea of history shudders with each new explosion. The rose lies
unattended, wild thorns at the edge of a mass grave. Between classes, over strong coffee,
young men argue the value of a pronoun.
When this you see, remember. Note in a bottle bobs in a cartoon sea. The radio operator’s
name is Sparks.
Hand outlined in paint on a brick wall. Storm turns playground into a swamp. Finally we spot
the wood duck on the middle lake.
The dashboard of my car like the keyboard of a piano. Toy animals anywhere.
Sun swells in the morning sky.
Man with three pens clipped to the neck of his sweatshirt shuffles from one table to the next,
seeking distance from the cold January air out the coffee house door, tall Styrofoam cup in one
hand, Of Grammatology in the other. Outside, a dog is tied to an empty bench, bike chained to
the No Parking sign.
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Ron Silliman has published 40 books and had his poetry and criticism translated into 19 languages. Among his awards are the 2010 Levinson Award from the Poetry Foundation, a Pew Fellowship, a Kelly Writers House Fellowship plus fellowships from the Pennsylvania and California Arts Councils and the National Endowments for the Arts. Silliman has a plaque in the walk dedicated to poetry in his home town of Berkeley and a sculpture in the Transit Center of Bury, Lancaster, a part of the Irwell Sculpture Trail. He teaches at the University of Pennsylvania. [See also this link.]
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Author: Terence Winch
