Another Kind of Crazy
Just reaching to open the door of
Starbucks when he pushes out
in a burst of hurry—flash of a man,
fleshy and bald-pated, face florid,
single-purposed, and just as I
calculate the odds of what kind
of crazy—just run-of-the mill New
York City kind or some sub-variety
of dangerous crazy, he stops at
the door, calls out down 8th Avenue,
Melvin! Melvin, I love you!
Oh yes, I see now— another kind
of crazy entirely—another human
soul crouched in the dark of its
solitary cell. Sprung, ready to take
its one big shot toward light.
—Jacqueline Kudler
Words
First, of course, I love you,
then, the requisite indulgences:
You may take two pieces
You may take a recess
You may take three giant steps.
There are words with indefinite referents:
freedom beauty unicorn God
and words with referents definite beyond dispute
clay cucumber
unicorn
God.
There are phrases that deliver us from dailiness:
extended sea voyage
phrases we seem to wait forever for:
it’s a go it’s a boy it’s benign
and if, at the end, words also fail us,
still, there are terms
we’d be hard put
to refuse:
after a long, inspired life
after a brief illness
after an extended sea voyage.
Instead of Nothing
“. . . from the very fact that something exists instead of
nothing, there is in possible things . . . a claim to existence.”
G. W. Leibniz
Principles of Nature and of Grace founded on Reason
The morning the rain came
down in feathered drum riffs
on the bedroom roof, and under
the kitchen eaves shimmer
and bounce and spreading
circles of oh and
three brown birds rocking
on feeder perches, sputter of
yellow leaves on slick black
branches something
wool socks steaming on heat
vents, wheat toast and apple
tea a good day to stay
inside, air everywhere
inlit extra dimension
of dark a good
day to sort last summer’s
photos gather wool
jackets from the downstairs
closet, ponder quantum
fluctuations, gutters
running slow
slide
of glitter down
glass panes a good
day
to do (instead of)
nothing.