[Pink Pig Time Machine by Wilfrid: September 21, 2011]
A week after the towers came down, I flew out of New York. That in itself was a strange experience. More next week. For now, a poem by John Ashbery from his book As the Stars Were Shining.
Up in one corner a plaid puff of smoke
warned mere pleasures away. We
were getting on famously--like
"houses on fire," I believe the expression
is. At midterm I received permission
to go down to the city. There,
in shambles and not much else, my love
waited. It was all too blissful not
to take in, a grand purgatorial
romance of kittens in a basket.
And with that we are asked to be pure,
to wash our hands of stones and seashells--
my poster plastered everywhere.
When two people meet, the folds can fall
where they may. Leaves say it's OK.
The poem is called "The Love Scenes." I copied it into my journal just after 9/11. It was written, I think, in the early '90s, but I found it had some resonance for me.
Comments