David Havens Fall, 2009 Poems in the style of Kay Ryan: The Healer Time distracts, it does not

heal. Healing is inde endent of time. !t comes "hen yo# have the reso#rce of mind to reali$e the "o#nd did not matter in the first lace. Then, at the end of o#r time, "e enco#nter the final distraction, and recogni$e the #ltimate a%straction. Beauty Once +o# cannot do something )#st once. &y the time yo# %egin, yo# have already done it, and %efore yo# finish yo# are doing it again. The mind messes "ith tem orality and location &ea#ty is "hen the "orld s ins in a mo#nting anticlima' of im ossi%le divine order (nd here ! sit, a m#ndane art of it all, "ith an e'citement and an #rge to )#m from my s*in and s in "ith it.

"his*ing yo# to "here yo# rather "o#ld not "ant to %e, "itho#t a choice. !t is an over%earing *idna er. Good Morning !s good morning a "ish or a statement, !f, "ith a ti of the hat, ! "ish to yo# good morning, then morning is almost over, and my "ish has gone to "aste. &#t if, "ith a r#% of they eyes, ! say to yo# good morning, then nothing yet has ha ened, and my -good morning. is an #nfo#nded lie. Th#s -/ood 0orning. is a roof of /od. !t e'ists %eca#se evidence to the contrary does not. (s long as there are mornings, they "ill %e good, a del#sion that rovides a arcel of light to a day that soon t#rns real.

( oem in the style of 1ohn &erryman: I Have a Dream Song Preamble (completely unrelated) (n !dea2 ! have an !dea2 He tho#ght as he sat do"n at the %lan* screen. !f only he had any "ay of fig#ring o#t )#st "hat it "as. 1 3 0r. President, if yo# don4t mind my as*ing, sir, "hat did yo# do to get so5 so just the way you are, 36ell, ! tell yo#, it s#re didn4t come easy. !t really comes do"n to a story once told me, a tale of t"o ill #gs. They )#m on the %ac* of a gar%age tr#c* 7ho" l#c*y, them28

and get %o#nced off on t"o sides of a road, one in an o en field, the other in man#re. +ears later, the one from the man#re, dressed in a s#it, meets the oor ill %#g from the fields, and gets as*ed -Ho" did yo# do it, %e so s#ccessf#l,. The fat, rich %#g a#ses to #ff his cigar %efore res onding: -Hard "or* and determination, *id.. Hard "or*2 ! tell yo# it4s hard "or* living in the # er class these days Private schools not "hat they once "ere. 30r. President, "hich one of the %#gs are yo#, 36hy, yo# co#ld never s#m me # in so sim le a story2 ! am the President, after all. 2 9eems there are some ro%lems in the "orld that need some fi'ing 1#st the other day ! met a man "ho co#ldn4t tie his shoe, rather, ! mean, He "asn4t "earing any2 ! tell yo# "ho doesn4t "ear shoes these days, ! don4t *no", ! hear them tal* a%o#t concentrated overty and concentrated affl#ence, %#t "hich is "orse, &eing President these days isn4t "hat it #sed to %e. 71en*ins, the door. 3+es sir.8 3!n the old days yo# co#ld get a girl to come home "ith yo# )#st %y telling her yo# "ere resident, 6hat ha ened to that, ! g#ess the times they are, as they say, a:changin4. 1en*ins "hat the hell does that mean, Don4t s ea*. ;hange ha ens across the %oard, h#rts #s all the same, ! don4t #nderstand This ine<#ality %#siness they s ea* of. (m ! doing a good )o%, Res onsi%ility is hard, 1en*ins, that4s something they can4t #nderstand. 71en*ins, the chair. 3+es, sir.8 3(hh, it gets so com licated sometimes ! )#st have to sit here. 6hat if one day all the chairs in the "orld disa eared, and ! had no"here to sit, 6ho "o#ld fi' that ro%lem, a man "ith no shoes, 6ho, 30r. President, /od hel #s, yo#.

( oem in the style of Theodore Roeth*e: Computing in the New Age I =ate night, tired eyes, stiff legs,

( %ottom sore and shifting in the seat, &lood inched o#t of the ears %y over%earing head hones laying three songs on re eat, 7They are all a%o#t r#nning a"ay8, (nd a %oy, 7me8, "ho has not moved in five ho#rs, >o stress, lost in a screen of la#ghing cats and self:o%sessed ?@ year:olds retending to %e thirty:t"o (nd vice versa. ! can only erceive a fraction of a "e% of a "orld that is not "hat it seems. F#ll of lies, and freedom. ! often sit, in my mind, in that chair. !t rela'es me. 6hy, Pro%a%ly %eca#se no one in the "e%:"orld cares. ! t#rn the screen off. ! don4t care a%o#t them either. II !n the "orld o#tside it is dar*. The %lac*ness "ashes over my mo#th and ears 7freshly circ#lated8 "ith stinging mid:"estern air, fresh from a *iss "ith the sno". The moon hides a"ay in ;hina, toying "ith some "eary tide there. !t doesn4t care a%o#t me tonight. ! "al* a"ay. ! s rint. ! slo". Trees s#rro#nd me, their leaves gone and %#ried %y a "hite that doesn4t e'ist tonight. 1#st &lac*, &#t for a "ind 6hich "hirls thro#gh the %ranches rom ting them to vi%rate, softly, li*e vocal chords 6his ering all the secrets Aver in this "orld. ( "histle. ( "hine. ! #nderstand. ( de ression in the gro#nd reveals a cree* %ed. ! sna*e and s"irl "ith it to the end, to a clearing of flat, #nto#ched sno" 3 a shimmering la*e, %#t not today. !t4s too cold to shimmer. ! thro" a roc* to test the ice. 9eems o*ay. ! %et my life on it. The la*e is %ig eno#gh to t#rn orange. 9omething a%o#t city lights reflecting off clo#ds. Br may%e it4s the heavens re)ecting o#r halogen aradise. (ll the same, ! colla se in the orange la*e sno", ca#ght %y the tender th#d of its em%race, envelo ed %y its comfort. >ot far a"ay, an o"l so#nds tired. ! rest my eyes. >o" ! am home. 0y nose stings. III Bn a ne" day, "ith fresh eggs and a glass of mil*, colla sed in the co#ch, my eyes

stare at the television. 0y sister yells at me. 9ays ! need to get o#t. Tomorro". Tomorro" ! "ill r#n a"ay. &#t ! have %een %#sy: Today ! )#st "ant to slee . I 6hat4s "rong "ith the old codgers of today, >o res ect. -6hen ! "as yo#ng,. they "hine, -! did something "ith myself.. (s if today, "e don4t do. There they stand, at the end of the ath, loo*ing %ac* at all the t#rns and t"ists they too*. !t has %een descri%ed to me once, and ! co#ld see, Thro#gh the old codger4s eyes, Aach forest he t#rned thro#gh, (nd every mo#ntain he clim%ed &#t !, ! stand loo*ing for"ard, and it is not the same ath. (t each t#rn he descri%ed ! see myself clim%ing the tree li*e 1ac* did his %eanstal*. (t each mo#ntain ! dive off the edge. 9o yes, they did "ith themselves. &#t ! will do. >o. ! could do. The otential of yo#th2 Ho" ! "aste it %#t in dreams. ! left a stone #nt#rned the other day. >e't to it, (nother one. (nd )#st %ehind that roc* ! failed to notice The ant "ho rotects the %#tterflies from #n*no"n evils (nd the %#g do"n %y the river "ho the "ren mista*es for a leaf 7Ho" neatly evolved28 (nd the gro#nd s<#irrel that held its %reath 6hen a coyote %ar*ed not far a"ay. ! did not see, %eca#se ! "as "atching the s#nset From a little hill &y a little cree* 6ith little roc*s, and little ra ids, (nd a atch of moss That "hen the fiery light of the setting s#n hits )#st right the atch itself catches on fire, (n orange that lingers in the nostrils ( green:orange that doesn4t e'ist %#t in that moment ( %lending of %lends of rimary colors. +es, there are over @.C million ne"s a ers ! "ill never read.

! "aste my ed#cation and a%#se my yo#th, /o thro#gh life o%livio#s to most and sometimes even slee thro#gh dinner %#t Hell, ! s#re do love this lace. 9o do not tell me, sister, to get o#t. Do not tell me, old man, to do. ! am alive. ! "ill live. 0y eyes are o en, and lead to my heart. &eyond that, details. Averything.

( note, %ased on -Final 9olilo<#y of the !nterior Paramo#r. %y 6allace 9tevens: H#mans search: for /od, for Tr#th, for =ove. (nd on o#r <#est "e %#ild o#rselves to"ards "ho "e "ill %ecome. (lone, in the "oods, on a mo#ntain, on 9#nday morning, "e reali$e o#r shared destiny. 6e "ill %ecome no one. ! once "as "al*ing do"n a 6isconsin road at @ am in the "inter. ( fresh layer of sno" had )#st fallen, and the moon ainted it %l#e. ;arnival m#sic re eated itself in my head. ! "as cold, and ! fell over. =oo*ing # , a sno"cl#m from a tree %ranch hit my face. ! la#ghed. -The sno" doesn4t give a soft "hite damn "hom it to#ches,. e.e. c#mmings "his ered to me. The sno" melted, and ! felt everyone in the "orld there "ith me as the "ater slid do"n my chee*. 6e la#ghed. ;onsider the n#m%er $ero. (nything m#lti lied %y $ero is $ero. !f "e acce t that h#mans are nothing, $ero, then ! can tric* myself into thin*ing that everyone in the "orld resides "ithin me at all times, an infinity of nothing. !t4s a nice tric*, reali$ing in em ty solit#de that -%eing there together is eno#gh,. and that "e are all 7no8 one.