What’s Yours

31st July 2008

Poem from the May 12 New Yorker:

One Can Miss Mountains

and pine. One

can dismiss
a whisper’s

revelations
and go on as

before as if
everything were

perfectly fine.
One does. One

loses wonder
among stores

of things.
One can even miss

the basso boom
of the ocean’s

rumpus room
and its rhythm.

A man can leave
this earth

and take nothing
–not even

longing–along
with him.

Todd Boss

6 thoughts on “What’s Yours

  1. Nichole

    High fives all around. Especially for these lines: “One / loses wonder / among stores / of things.”

    One certainly does.

  2. Melissa

    At first I read this as a recipe: “One can miss moments”. Maybe I should eat lunch BEFORE I browse blogs…

  3. Mariam

    Beautiful. Below is a favorite of mine, by Ms. Gwendolyn Brooks. I hope you enjoy it:

    -And when you have forgotten the bright bedclothes
    on a Wednesday and a Saturday,
    And most especially when you have forgotten Sunday –
    When you have forgotten Sunday halves in bed,
    Or me sitting on the front-room radiator in the limping afternoon
    Looking off down the long street
    To nowhere,
    Hugged by my plain old wrapper of no-expectation
    And nothing-I-have-to-do and I’m-happy-why?
    And if-Monday-never-had-to-come –
    When you have forgotten that, I say,
    And how you swore, if somebody beeped the bell,
    And how my heart played hopscotch if the telephone rang;
    And how we finally went into Sunday dinner,
    That is to say, went across the front-room floor to the
    ink-spotted table in the southwest corner
    To Sunday dinner, which was always chicken and noodles
    Or chicken and rice
    And salad and rye bread and teac
    And chocolate chip cookies –
    I say, when you have forgotten that,
    When you have forgotten my little presentiment
    That the war would be over before they got to you;
    And how we finally undressed and whipped out the light and flowed into bed,
    And lay loose-limbed for a moment in the week-end
    Bright bedclothes,
    Then gently folded into each other-
    When you have, I say, forgotten all that,
    They you may tell,
    They I may believe
    You have forgotten me well.

Comments are closed.