EMI wouldn't grant permission to
NASA to use "Here Comes the Sun", by
The Beatles. It would have been one in
A variety of sound documents--
HELLO in an array of languages, and Chucky Berry--a
Muslim call to prayer.
The vessel went into space without it.
But the Sky is magnetic. And so what gets
A yes as it rises will always get a yes.
But--and here's the thing, what gets a no
Eventually gets a yes, too. It must rise Longer.
So when permission was denied, the stars Swelled as the sash of the brooding Peacefulness that, yes, is;
And that, no, cannot yet be imagined.
Voyager went as far as the hashmark
Where the sun routinely cracks. Not the
Beatles, lifted up, but some forebear, some
Beating Mozart took-
From his numb, feline
Fingers, to the windows that shook with the
(The cats must have lived just fine, separately, while I was gone.)
God's Dad didn't hover because he didn't really care. But once, he said, what is that. What is that supposed to be??
The son sat hunched on a piece of graph paper, whose adornment was a Twomblyesque starbuck that were it any other occasion, it could be identified like that, and just that.
How's that supposed to work?
The son bunched irritably at the shoulders, as if about to rote recite Latin for an ignorant parent who might know he hadn't studied, but all the same couldn't read Ovid for himself.
The flower, he said, finally, Dendranthema, pictured being led into the western world, by way of Russia, disguised as forlorn moppets, their faces hidden,
Sun in their hair--and eventually a new world.
But the dad just grumbled. When I first saw one I--and have no other reason but this to remember--caught sight at a roadside stop on the turnpike. I was pretty young. Everybody else was eating or helping with the oil change on the long vacation drive. I went to pick it when it vanished. And with it everything vanished.
We drove across Dauphin County and I could smell the bracing choir of things. I was carried into a local hospital where my parents were eventually told it was just an unexplainable accident, which even then seemed flimsy to take science out while resolving the greater innocence.
In the room where I woke up a pastor from a nearby church had heard, and left me a tiny potted cactus as a gift. And a few comic books slouched in the window sill like an old broom. One, I remember was a Spiderman. While the other followed a superhero who had no face. But it wasn't really that he had no face. It was simply that, in his tact, and plied by his ardor, he made it so that no one could remember him.
The dad said, making a grand connection, Do you remember when you we young--almost too young to remember, I'm afraid, and we sat by the window listening to music. I do. I remember. Ernest Chausson's garden of lilacs? Moonglow, the son said, with the picture eventually taking shape beneath his hand. By Artie Shaw.
I wasn't always this young.
But gradually my skin learned to smooth over
My insides. I look at myself in the mirror
And see a stiff overcoat that after a decade of winters
Learned its intended form.
I'll say this several thousand times--
But each time I say it, it grows decreasingly true
I used to be old.
There is no belly anymore
My hands learned to push it away, and the
Sharp pains I thought I felt were like religious feelings,
I have absconded, too, with everything valuable. The lights,
The wine in the cellar and the miscellany--all of it catalogued
But only in the way a desperate imagination remembers things,
Counting them on the fingers once they're missing
There are no ladders to climb and look; I stole them
Just green spots:
The map of my feet left in urgent space
You will feel less inclined to
Ever make anything in that dimpled mold
Again. You won't find any sugar or pictures--ran the faucets and
Drew cross-hair squares on the walls.
Beside the warm wire beaters and the towel damp with cake
I came and saw the sense that everything was
Filled in--I needed only to replace things
With perfect absences.
I will only say this once:
It was here where I started
Everything is so marvelous out here in the jade evening clippings
Where I am now and swing across the
Fence like a kid's baseball