Monday, April 17, 2017

 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.