Gratitude is
first of all the business of him who helps. How
much I agree with you, Simone, yet wish you'd sometimes
relent. There's a merchant of
being on my street who sells iteration at a discount. It's all
insistence, this rain clattering through gutters onto the fronds of
our messy palm. The palm at the end of my mind is out the sliding
glass door and
past the green plastic watering can. When we speak of revision we
assume we know what the word
means. It
took him 17
years to finish his poem,
but was that the same one?
The body revises itself downward, cells edited like flakes of skin on
a red chair. There's loss in
all this recasting of the past, for what we move too quickly by is
the orchestra of weather, Saijo staring at the clouds as they passed
his cottage, noting down their shapes, the climate's temper. I sit
beside the rain. I cannot revise it, ever.
--for Tim
2 comments:
I love the way the weather acts like sound, is in fact orchestrated, as it passes and is gone. If that is not generosity, it's grace. There's no revising the rain but there's so much use in rain..
Love the voice of "How much I agree with you, Simone, yet wish you'd sometimes relent." I'm delighted when Saijo appears. My only edit would be cutting "cells edited like flakes of skin on a red chair." Climates do have tempers, I agree.
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