Monday, May 28, 2007

Some Beckett

(I was poking around the library's website and suddenlyoutofnowhere remembered this poem I hadn't thought of in years. How does a person forget about a poem she loves so much?)


why not merely the despaired of
occasion of

is it not better abort than be barren

the hours after you are gone are so leaden
they will always start dragging too soon
the grapples clawing blindly the bed of want
bringing up the bones the old loves
sockets filled once with eyes like yours
all always is it better too soon than never
the black want splashing their faces
saying again nine days never floated the loved
nor nine months
nor nine lives

saying again
if you do not teach me I shall not learn
saying again there is a last
even of last times
last times of begging
last times of loving
of knowing not knowing pretending
a last even of last times of saying
if you do not love me I shall not be loved
if I do not love you I shall not love
the churn of stale words in the heart again
love love love thud of the old plunger
pestling the unalterable
whey of words

terrified again
of not loving
of loving and not you
of being loved and not by you
of knowing not knowing pretending
I and all the others that will love you
if they love you

unless they love you


Janaka said...

I think about that sometimes--about all the favorite things I've forgotten: poems, songs, foods...

When they're (re)discovered, it's like seeing them again for the first time only better because the history that comes with them a second time lends a more visceral meaningfulness.

But still, I can't help wondering what difference that favorite might make in my life if I could only remember it was.

paula said...

Well said, sir. It makes me understand the compulsion for listmaking...