Poem for June 26

June 26, 2012 § Leave a comment

1

I would like to go into the office next to mine
–it belongs to Dean, a kind, sweet man —
and just sit and cry. I would like to sit and
cry, sit and cry without inhibition, shoulders
shuddering, big tears rolling down my
hands. I would like to wander into his office
with its filing cabinets, sticky notes, and
bulletin board, sit in his client chair, and cry
for nothing and for everything. “Love,” I
might mutter, “mountains,” “children,”
dissimilar words pulled from a larger and
deeper phrase whose meaning I lost long
ago. How nice it would be to crumble be-
fore a man, without shame or guilt, to curl
into a sculpture of pain and hopelessness
and fall apart. As simple as a blossom
widening before sun, a man aware of his
humanity. I would like to go into Dean’s
office for he is a kind, sweet man, no
longer a boy nor yet an adult opportun-
ist and, solvent of bone, muscle and
curvature of skin disassemble in a chair
in the center of the day, to say in that
soundless abyss underlying words: under-
standing is emptiness, vision is puncturing,
and loss a bubble exploding in our hands.

-Gordon Massman,   0.174: The Complete Numbers Cycle (NYQ Books, 2011)

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