Jody's Notes
(January 8, 2013)
I think--but I'm not positive--that with this poem I crossed into the 21st century. That's not as dramatic as it sounds. I mean that I think I wrote it after January 1st 2000.
Calender emotion. A lot of people experienced it. I saw this first hand. People breaking up with other people because they thought it was time to move on (because it was Jannuary 1st, 2000 for Christ's sake).
And other people. Dying right on schedule. "How weird," I thought at the time.
And religious traditions: trying to control the calender: here's when the world begins (and not a day earlier). I used to think: Well, that's just nuts. But they know what they're doing, they really do. People like me don't stand a chance.
Each rock, severe
in its borders; I (by contrast)
must watch (his chest still
moving slowly; his empty
sneaker in its mouth, the dog
slowly putting itself to sleep).
Rocks expand only slightly
(in sunlight), contract
only slightly (in winter); we
blister and burn, chill to frostbitten
meat. No climate
befriends us (no child
lasts forever).
Soon I will think clearly
again (the mourning
will be over); I will
watch boulders with
indifference (how only they
flatten belongingly
against the landscape).
© 2000, 2012 Jody Azzouni