Landscape, Corfu 1909, John Singer Sargent

April Notes

After my bath Saturday morning,

I checked cable news to make sure

we hadn’t gone to war with North Korea.

I’d never done precisely that before.

My neighbors still have lawn signs

from the campaign standing upright and loud.

Nice people, except can they be

if he’s still their guy?

Every few nights I plunge into my giant

volume of Walt Whitman to slake my thirst

for heart on an awesome scale, ride

expansive lines, absorb, embrace.

NPR people discussed revulsion: humans evolved

with disgust for things that made them sick

like vomit, feces, sex with diseased-looking people.

Now let’s hone our aversion to fantastic greed.

Recently, when I became furious with someone I love

I reduced my sulk time significantly— a triumph.

When angry, I get a sour bubble in my throat

until I come out of it, then— Poof! Gone!

When I needed to quit drinking, but kept drinking,

the trick was to be damn good, an expert, at lying to myself.

So I know what hard work keeping delusions going can be.

No one can do it without becoming twisted. Truth smoothes.