Poem by James Meetze
THE LONG NOW 23 (DECKNAME)
Confidante in the cul-de-sac, I falter
on occasion, like a leaky spigot
of names not disguised
not mine to say.
I envision a star burns between us
planetary as we are platonic ideal
and plugged in on occasion to some portal
that can never enough give back.
The work of discovery means what found
was covered green was field was mossy name
whose body doesn’t show gravity’s gray pull
in that gray area elephant gray in the room.
Someone said I said, O
and someone else believed it.
All the graves are silent
but for names and names are only seeming things
are not brayed of tongue
cut rough from stone
not echoes inside a tree or glass not names
renamed in the feedback loop.
O Erato, I came a singer into song I strung
my throat with gut
and out of my voice, another
said I when I meant you, but huh
the meddle way the clock talks
a story into me
a wind in me
That we could learn what lies behind it.
That we could invoke a wrath
a welcome gloom over June.
Clouds seeded with secrets condensed
on occasion, break and loose
that asterisk on the stat
that rain came named at the table
I did not elide or disguise it
and you were not
James Meetze [pronounced Metz] is the author of three books of poetry, including Phantom Hour and Dayglo, which was selected by Terrance Hayes as winner of the 2010 Sawtooth Poetry Prize, both published by Ahsahta Press. He is editor, with Simon Pettet, of Other Flowers: Uncollected Poems by James Schuyler (FSG, 2010). His work has also appeared in five chapbooks and numerous publications, including AGNI, A Public Space, American Letters & Commentary, The Rattling Wall, New American Writing, and Prelude among others. He lives in San Diego, California, where he teaches creative writing and film studies at Ashford University.