The Blank Page Stretches...
The Blank Page Stretches...
(Inspired by Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird")
I.
A road whose lane markers stretch
to the limits of their boundaries -
don’t start driving until you know where you’re going -
once you turn the key in the ignition it’s too late
to pull over and ask for directions.
II.
White, white, endlessly white.
Did it snow here, or did someone forget
to fill this rectangle of the world with color?
III.
The longer you stare, the bigger
and more foreboding it gets.
It sees you and says:
“I dare you to mark me.
It had better be incredible.”
IV.
Spelling errors. Cross-outs.
False starts.
An inkblot car wreck.
V.
Pinch the paper and make crinkled mountains -
the landscape is harsher now
that words are bungee cords.
VI.
Dear Lover,
Once upon a time
I was born on February 12, 1988
and then when he turned on the lights
they all shouted “surprise”
and she disappeared in a puff of golden smoke
and everyone laughed and cried.
Somewhere in here is a story.
VII.
So many lines
queuing up without a destination.
I can help the next customer.
VIII.
We don’t know where to start or where to end,
so we do neither.
IV.
Each word, each letter,
footprints on the white ground.
This is where I have been.
--June 2011
(Inspired by Wallace Stevens' "Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird")
I.
A road whose lane markers stretch
to the limits of their boundaries -
don’t start driving until you know where you’re going -
once you turn the key in the ignition it’s too late
to pull over and ask for directions.
II.
White, white, endlessly white.
Did it snow here, or did someone forget
to fill this rectangle of the world with color?
III.
The longer you stare, the bigger
and more foreboding it gets.
It sees you and says:
“I dare you to mark me.
It had better be incredible.”
IV.
Spelling errors. Cross-outs.
False starts.
An inkblot car wreck.
V.
Pinch the paper and make crinkled mountains -
the landscape is harsher now
that words are bungee cords.
VI.
Dear Lover,
Once upon a time
I was born on February 12, 1988
and then when he turned on the lights
they all shouted “surprise”
and she disappeared in a puff of golden smoke
and everyone laughed and cried.
Somewhere in here is a story.
VII.
So many lines
queuing up without a destination.
I can help the next customer.
VIII.
We don’t know where to start or where to end,
so we do neither.
IV.
Each word, each letter,
footprints on the white ground.
This is where I have been.
--June 2011