Bring To Me, It Said, Continual Proof

Bring To Me, It Said, Continual Proof / You've Been Alive.

A Good Many Of My Poems Over The Years Have Alluded To Or Taken On The Political. Stevens Has A Line In One Of His Essays: "reality Exerts Pressure On The Imagination." Inevitably What Is Omnipresent In The Culture Exerts Its Pressure On Our Imaginations To Respond To It, Even If Indirectly. But In This Case The Backdrop Of 9/11, Coincident With The Breakup Of A Marriage, The Finding Of New Love, Some Kind Of Personal Cataclysm... All Of Those Were Forces Informing The Poems In Some Way.

I Think Because My Parents Died In Their Early 50s, Mid 50s, I Always Thought I Would Die Young. And That's Been Both A Useful Thing And I Suspect Something That's Haunted Me A Little Bit.

Connubial Because With Alarming Accuracy She’d Been Identifying Patterns I Was Unaware Of—this Tic, That Tendency, Like The Way I've Mastered The Language Of Intimacy In Order To Conceal How I Felt— I Knew I Was In Danger Of Being Terribly Understood.

Better To Be Furious At One Thing, Become Radiant With Purpose. Better To Love Links And Rhythms Than All-embracing Answers.