Perhaps, perhaps it’s time for us to quit
“I just can’t fit. Yes, I believe it’s time for us to quit
But when we meet again introduced as friends
Please don’t let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.”
—Bob Dylan, Just Like A Woman
and after Estrella Morente’s La Noche, and Pablo Neruda’s Ode to the Sea
1992
I have no answers, no reasons but your wicked game.
In this world, there is no one who will love you like me—
Underneath it, I have died, to hide, so you will not see.
For you are sun and dawn, swans bathing in your rays.
I am night, here to meet you every morning, but only—
Those green eyes, reconsidering. My eyes, arrested.
Estrella, what did you have to hide?
I bought you this ring. Yes, I bought you this ring.
“Perhaps. Quizás.”
I bought you this ring, my wife?
We never saw the altar, organ, or freshly dripping
Wax—and being tired, waning
I stopped buying you things.
I stopped buying your love—again
The evening fell, and a cloak winding the trees—
Drunk to you I ran. Street naked, on my knees, and
Repairing to my rooms, I decked myself a feathered white—
Like a swan without a partner, like a man without a wife.
Candles.
Candles from heaven.
Candles from heaven falling
On you, my immense sea.
Wax floating, votives washed over.
No more safety at the lee—on shore
The night fires snuffed out by your tidal tongue.
Saying yes. Back a no. Saying yes, of course! a yes!
Yes to us! And perhaps, perhaps, but then, a no.
I am only alive because for years I did not know what to feel.
I am grateful that I did not know what to feel.
9 thoughts on "Perhaps, perhaps it’s time for us to quit"
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I’ve been reading Neruda lately and it’s inspiring stuff! I think you conjure his over-the-top-but-somehow-it-all-works kind of romanticism. (He’s irresistible.) I like a lot of your moments but especially love this….
Candles.
Candles from heaven.
Candles from heaven falling
On you, my immense sea.
Wax floating, votives washed over.
Thank you Linda. I spend a lot of time reading Neruda, Federico Garcia Lorca, Rafael Alberti, have begun to take in Gabriel Garcia Marquez, and lately discovered the flamenco artform in-depth – what strikes me about Spanish language poetry, novel writing, play weighting, music, and song is that it is hyper-real. Exaggeration and hyperbole, dripping images that sometimes leave no conscious sense-making, and the label “magical realism” is often applied here and there. I am Spanish to begin with, but really began with the English poets, so this has been a treat. The candles interlude hung on a word I believe to nail it for me, as well as the structure — I’m always glad you take the time to read, and that you give kind comments. Should love to see more of your work on a regular basis. This month is almost over :).
A few years agoI took a workshop on adynaton (I’d never heard of it but it’s a form of hyperbole that insinuates the impossible) and it really changed by opinion of hyperbole and the hyper-real. It can really work. Maybe we can start little side group of poetry sharers? I live outside of Berea but email, Zoom and the internet are everywhere.
hyperbole that insinuates the impossible – I keep thinking of the opening chapter of One Hundred Years of Solitude…. constant repetition, a person going to super ridiculous lengths… nothing seems plausible, and then something of the comically desperate struck me, and I wondered whether Marquez found pathos/comedy/tragedy rolled into one a felt impression to stamp on us, or whether the narrative was the point. I don’t know if that made sense.
workshops are wonderful. poetry sharers. did that this spring/summer with the Morehead Writers’ Project 2.0. awesome group of people.
*PLAY WRITING. auto correct is not a friend
Estrella…the beautiful woman who leaves only traces of the night sky on your soul, ha! Just like a true Estrella
bingo Señor Capitán Santiago Lally!
My favorite, felt:
The night fires snuffed out by your tidal tongue.
Saying yes. Back a no. Saying yes, of course! a yes!
Yes to us! And perhaps, perhaps, but then, a no.
I am only alive because for years I did not know what to feel.
I am grateful that I did not know what to feel.
thank you Jane. glad it hits home.