Poem for June 20

June 20, 2012 § Leave a comment


I sit in a pitch pane panelled kitchen-living
room on the same slab beneath a chimney piece.
“I have followed here.” Encircling, mist
hung. A small carpet of screen, turf, cushions
of, “my life may lead me into the future”, nor
with the experience of comfort, ease, past
the window, a large church looms. Shut
concentration that very small babies show
upon reassuring facts. Looking back with
distance to hikers & regrettable interlopers,
romantic life of the indigenous aristocracy.
Unconventional, I miss at length, or feudal
castles. Which lacks an essential
involvement, a grand passion by right of
way to the highlands. I tried
to found a new industry for the tiny & disoriented
in an idle moment — “Do you want a foothold” —
seems strange to me now that there was a time
when I did know. By a hundred & left without
greeting, at a frank, at a dry store, I
was unfamiliar, hooded oaks, birches &
alders, at whose feet the deep cushioned greens
are stippled with scarlet, placidly to a new role,
at time without number. At night I climbed
out from the ravine & found myself on a
bluff, almost an island, beyond the wide
shingly outflow, ridge, sand dunes, two
seals black in the tide. All intact, as
I went down… There was not one stick of
functional table mats, well during, I should
have to import, at length I motioned,
individual, had been, an, who a friends
in my high when she was already, sandwiches,
is latent in most of us, this, because, well
when, finds, wryly to see cocktail stars, as
a beachcomber through whimsy. Is the rubber
compete successful? The damaged over. As a —.
This was not an easy matter for there
was no road approach, but infants is all

Charles Bernstein, Senses of Responsibility  (1989, Paradigm Press, originally published in 1979 as Tuumba 20).

1989 edition:https://i1.wp.com/www.durationpress.com/paradigm/images/senses.gif

1979 edition

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