Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry

American Digest ^ | Nov 23 2011 | Stephen Dunn

[Space Patrol Hoppa]

Poem For People That Are Understandably Too Busy To Read Poetry

Relax. This won't last long.
Or if it does, or if the lines
make you sleepy or bored,
give in to sleep, turn on
the T.V., deal the cards.
This poem is built to withstand
such things. Its feelings
cannot be hurt. They exist
somewhere in the poet,
and I am far away.
Pick it up anytime. Start it
in the middle if you wish.
It is as approachable as melodrama,
and can offer you violence
if it is violence you like. Look,
there's a man on a sidewalk;
the way his leg is quivering
he'll never be the same again.
This is your poem
and I know you're busy at the office
or the kids are into your last nerve.
Maybe it's sex you've always wanted.
Well, they lie together
like the party's unbuttoned coats,
slumped on the bed
waiting for drunken arms to move them.
I don't think you want me to go on;
everyone has his expectations, but this
is a poem for the entire family.
Right now, Budweiser
is dripping from a waterfall,
deodorants are hissing into armpits
of people you resemble,
and the two lovers are dressing now,
saying farewell.
I don't know what music this poem
can come up with, but clearly
it's needed. For it's apparent
they will never see each other again
and we need music for this
because there was never music when he or she
left you standing on the corner.
You see, I want this poem to be nicer
than life. I want you to look at it
when anxiety zigzags your stomach
and the last tranquilizer is gone
and you need someone to tell you
I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.
The poem is saying that to you now.
But don't give anything for this poem.
It doesn't expect much. It will never say more
than listening can explain.
Just keep it in your attache case
or in your house. And if you're not asleep
by now, or bored beyond sense,
the poem wants you to laugh. Laugh at
yourself, laugh at this poem, at all poetry.
Come on:

Good. Now here's what poetry can do.

Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.

[Space Patrol Hoppa]

Stephen Dunn (born 1939 in New York City) is an American poet. Dunn has written fifteen collections of poetry. He won the Pulitzer Prize for Poetry for his 2001 collection, Different Hours and has received an Academy Award in Literature from the American Academy of Arts and Letters.

Dunn completed his B.A. in English at Hofstra University and his M.A. in creative writing at Syracuse University. He has taught at Wichita State University, University of Washington, Columbia University, University of Michigan, Princeton University, and at the Richard Stockton College of New Jersey.

Dunn had earlier lived in Port Republic, New Jersey, and now spends time at homes in Ocean City, New Jersey, and his wife's hometown of Frostburg, Maryland.

Thanks to Gerard Venderleun for posting this.

[supremedoctrine]

THANKS for that. Very very nice!
Dunn has been one of my favorite American poets for a long time.
Check out Carl Dennis also> Ranking the Wishes.

[ken5050]

FYI...

[GOP Poet]

My five favorite lines or two favorite stanzas (if you can call them that.):

I'll be here when you want me
like the sound inside a shell.

. . .

Imagine yourself a caterpillar.
There's an awful shrug and, suddenly,
You're beautiful for as long as you live.

I am working on the awful shrug in stages. Yet could it also be one big shrug of one's fear and boom! You're beautiful for as long as you live?

Both are my take aways.

Happy Thanksgiving all and may you shrug off that fear and let yourselves shine as was first intentioned!!

[newheart]

Very nice. Thanks for the post.
And as long as we are in a poetic mood:

Winter Concert
by N. E. Dunkle

At St. Progressive University
We toil to demonstrate diversity.
Before our concert, let me tell you how
We come to sing of winter solstice now
Instead of Christmas as we did until
Three students asked that ash tree Yggdrasil
Be raised beside each lighted Christmas tree
To show respect to Norse mythology.
So now you can feel safe; there’s nothing here
Denoting Advent or the Christian year.
Progressive is the light, and we have seen it;
We still hum Christmas tunes, but we don’t mean it.

From the December 2011 edition of First Things (www.firsthings.com)

[blueunicorn6]

Here’s the poem that got me my MFA degree.

I saw the deer
The deer saw me
I took a crap
And the deer took a pee

I won the Snodgrass Award with that poem.

[GSWarrior]

After reading all the way to the very end of this open, I was certainly glad it was Dunn.

; )

[freedomlover]

What new-ants!

[freedomlover]

There once was a man from Nantucket . . .

[Space Patrol Hoppa]

... who was prone to exaggerate his personal attributes.

[Space Patrol Hoppa]

Droll. You win the thread.