One Hundred and Thirty-Ninth Entry

I've always loved the Kenneth Koch poem "To You," which Robert Pinsky talks about on Poet's Choice. Although he says very little, Pinsky's characterization of wanting to give his "You" something more significant than metaphors to sunshine and flowers, and by using quirky yet touching comparisons like "laid a red roof in her heart" he makes this poem particular to one person. Too many poems, not only of the love variety but of every kind, settle with something acceptable as metaphor, some comparison the poet knows his audience is quick to understand. Koch's poems were risky because of his allowance of cheekiness, humor, and ribald sexuality (not that he raised any eyebrows, but it's still hard to get taken seriously with overt sexuality in poetry. Unless you're Jorie Graham.) This poem inspired me to write not about what I thought I "should be" writing about (dead trees, thunderstorms, the human condition) but about reality, which is full of odd and funny moments even on your worst days. Michael Shurtleff wrote in Audition that he hated to see actors play super-serious in dramas. If you're at a funeral the last thing you want to do is be sad; you try everything in your power to avoid those dreary emotions, which makes you crack jokes and hit on women at a wake. Anyway, "To You" is one of my favorite Koch poems, and a great love poem, and I'm glad I read Silliman's blog today to find that up there.

Here's my poem:

EVERY DAY AGAIN

Dried cat parts, heavy on solid hot pavement equals summer.
In the apartment, something comes from the refrigerator, an odor, a presence.
Cat combines with cigarette butts and dirt from shoe scuffs.
The way standing in front of the refrigerator means you’re alone.
Combines drift from their cornfields to attack the city.
Way in the distance past cop cars and firecrackers.
Drift into the bedroom, heat rising from the tenants below.
In the refrigerator, plants and animals harden their hearts.

Almost feeling a kinship with the cat, connection of mammals.
For example, knowing how the fish feels while being gutted.
Combines almost near the point of contact.
Reaching for the light switch and finding the door.
See outside how the inside looks, how a stranger sees your house.
Instant weather punctuates the personal anti-climax.
You see your coat as blue, darker where wet, hanging lifelessly.
One instant is commentary on the last, meat still runs as animal.