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Thread: Father's Day Race

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    Father's Day Race

    The boat had no hull. It was a wing
    fired in porcelain, glass and steel
    skimming the waves and our girl gone

    with you to let out the mainsail. The win
    was what mattered, speed and style.
    The boat had no hull, just a wing

    so that waves slipped past like Teflon,
    your mast tall and great sail full,
    skimming the waves, our girl keen

    on your mark. You could not begin
    to take enough care, so you took none at all.
    The boat had no hull but a wing

    for speed and style, no ballast or concern
    for safe—just cut wake, caressed foil.
    It skimmed the waves, our girl gone

    over the side to rescue the rigging. No will
    now, no mast, no cumbersome life vest.
    The boat had nothing under its wing;
    it skimmed the waves, and our girl was gone.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    Memorizing "The Sun Rising" by John Donne

    Every reader loves the way he tells off
    the sun, shouting busy old fool
    into the English skies even though they
    were likely cloudy on that seventeenth-century morning.

    And it’s a pleasure to spend this sunny day
    pacing the carpet and repeating the words,
    feeling the syllables lock into rows
    until I can stand and declare,
    the book held closed by my side,
    that hours, days, and months are but the rags of time.

    But after a few steps into stanza number two,
    wherein the sun is blinded by his mistress’s eyes,
    I can feel the first one begin to fade
    like sky-written letters on a windy day.

    And by the time I have taken in the third,
    the second is likewise gone, a blown-out candle now,
    a wavering line of acrid smoke.

    So it’s not until I leave the house
    and walk three times around this hidden lake
    that the poem begins to show
    any interest in walking by my side.

    Then, after my circling,
    better than the courteous dominion
    of her being all states and him all princes,

    better than love’s power to shrink
    the wide world to the size of a bedchamber,

    and better even than the compression
    of all that into the rooms of these three stanzas
    is how, after hours stepping up and down the poem,
    testing the plank of every line,
    it goes with me now, contracted into a little spot within.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    Name Gourmand

    —Post Cove, Deep River, Connecticut

    Arrow-arum, water purslane, and false
    pimpernel are new to me now
    that I live on a riverine tidal marsh.

    These plants grow about or in the cove
    where, out with the tide and in,
    the common mummichog and banded

    killifish swim. I imagine if I've seen a thing—
    golden club, sweet flag, reed canary grass—
    its name will spring to mind when

    I want it to, but the deep truth is I enjoy
    the luscious touch of common names
    about the roof and floor, teeth edge

    of my mouth—the salivate, sexy sensation—
    my way of kissing the ring of English
    for having crowned me English-speaking.

    One evening last summer I spied the marsh
    bellflower—dabs of blue amid chartreuse-
    bright wild rice sprigs—two yards from

    bursts of bur-marigold and rosy meadow rue,
    and I'm still hunting for the uncommon
    Hudson arrowhead, the cut-leaved

    water horehound. However did a plant get hound
    in its name? But I don't want a pause for
    etymological dreaming to halt the susurrous

    and rattling runs of consonants, the shallow
    and broad bellow of vowels, all that music
    that, in trickles or rills or dips or blows,

    trips the switch of this or that synapse:
    the Wernicke and Broca areas of my
    cerebral cortex flaring up like hydrogen

    firestorms on the sun, my entire body
    scintillate and quick with the gush-in,
    flush-out, whisking blood
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    Landscape with Figures Partially Erased

    First, it's just the faces disappearing.
    Because, deflected, as the faces long have been,
    with their hunched trunks
    and mercilessly twisted necks,
    they can only be regarded from a ground's-eye view.

    The bellwort tips its fallow head down
    in the hot tomato field. The green snake rests
    beneath the green leaves, and the air is toast brown.
    Diesel tractors grind to the road and idle there,
    their heads bowed, too, like giant wooden horses
    meant to sack an unsuspecting city.
    Down come the earthen walls.

    My father used to pour libations onto the ground
    from the gas pump's nozzle, and I'd swirl
    its iridescence, respire it into my lung's core,
    so woozy, so sick, and awed by the vapors.
    Fire beguiled me, too. As did the concept of force.

    Whole villages burned in a single spritz.
    Even now the past gets altered. We forget
    because our friends won't suffer that subject again.
    Because the students tap their pens uncomfortably,
    look around to see if anyone else is taken in.
    That's when we figure it's best to make a joke.

    I've wandered, now, from the corrugated sheds,
    with people half in and half out of nuclear range.
    My retention of facts is not a silo.
    Even if it were, some disrepair gets fallen into.
    I like to think we dismantle thought
    as much as tortuous thought dismantles us.

    I have seen sharp men lose limbs. Women too.
    A hand pulled off, conveyed into the hopper.
    But these were country matters.
    Like frilled silhouettes of flowering wild carrot,
    white against the mackerel white sky,
    the texture is imperishable, the details

    so far off. These bodies: their contours
    uncertain. Just a general cast to the light.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    The Egg Had Frozen, an Accident.
    I Thought of My Life

    The egg had frozen, an accident.
    I thought of my life.
    I heated the butter anyhow.
    The shell peeled easily,
    inside it looked
    both translucent and boiled.
    I moved it around in the pan.
    It melted, the whites
    first clearing to liquid,
    then turning solid
    and white again like good laundry.
    The yolk kept its yolk shape.
    Not fried, not scrambled,
    in the end it was cooked.
    With pepper and salt, I ate it.
    My life that resembled it ate it.
    It tasted like any other wrecked thing,
    eggish and tender, a banquet.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    Visiting Stanley Kunitz

    I have flown the Atlantic
    To reach you in your chair.
    Cuddling up, we talk about
    Flowers, important things,
    And hold hands to celebrate
    Spring gentian's heavenly
    (Strictly speaking) blue.
    You grow anemones,
    You say, wind's daughters.
    I say the world should name
    A flower after you, Stanley.
    We read each other poems.
    You who'll be a hundred soon
    Take forever to sign
    My copy of Passing Through.
    What flower can I offer you
    From Ireland? Bog asphodel
    Is the colour of your shirt.
    Grass of Parnassus? Mountain
    Everlasting in New York?
    Your zimmer-gavotte suggests
    Madder with its goose-grassy
    Tenacity, your age-spots
    Winter-flowering mudwort.
    But no, no. Let it be
    Spring gentian, summer sky
    At sunset, Athene's eyes,
    Five petals, earthbound star.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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    Re: Father's Day Race

    Visitation

    Last night you called me out to the December dark
    to look up and see what neither of us had ever seen
    before: a burnished flock of Canada geese, bent
    into a flexed bow and heading south across a clear-
    starred moonless sky in silence, winging it
    to warmer quarters, and all lit up—like mystery,
    I thought, a lit thing bearing nothing but the self
    we see and savor but know no more the meaning of
    than I know what in the cave of its fixed gaze
    our cat is thinking. The geese were lit to the shade
    of tarnished gold or dead oak leaves hanging still
    in sunshine, or the color tall reeds have when
    car-lights stream and splash over them in winter.
    And they were—these beings moving as one—
    a mystery to us: Why, we asked, their color, who
    by daylight are simply black-winged shapes
    quickening southwards across a sky-blue canvas?
    How could they be lit from below like that, from
    somewhere near where we stood on the earth
    we shared with them, staring up, the earth that
    for this inhabited minute or two must have been
    giving off a light that made these creatures shine
    for us who were there by chance, with no moonshine
    to explain it? Then they're gone, gone dark, gone on,
    though in their aftermath the cold dark we stood
    our ground in was for a little while neither cold
    nor dark but a place of visitation, and we were in it.
    .






    In a perfect world, our dreams will be fulfilled. There would be no hard work or planning ahead, because everything you want would be given to you. In the real world, where we all live, rewards must be earned. The problem most people have is in the day-to-day details of accomplishment. Accomplishment takes a lot of time, sacrifice and effort, and that’s the real rub for a lot of people. But, as Abraham Lincoln once said, “The best thing about the future is that it comes one day at a time.”

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