But of course the poem is not an assertion. Do you see? When I wrote That all my poems over the long years before I met you made you come true, And that the poems for you since then have made you in yourself become more true, I do not mean that the poems created or invented you. How many have foundered In that sargasso! No, what I have been trying to say For all the years of my awakening Is that neither of the quaint immemorial views of poetry is adequate for us. A poem is not an expression, nor is it an object. Yet it somewhat partakes of both. What a poem is Is never to be known, for which I have learned to be grateful. But the aspect in which I see my own Is as the act of love. The poem is a gift, a bestowal. The poem is for us what instinct is for animals, a continuing and chiefly unthought corroboration of essence, […] Why otherwise is the earliest always the most important, the formative? The Iliad, the Odyssey, the Book of Genesis, These were acts of love, I mean deeply felt gestures, which continuously bestow upon us What we are. And if I do not know which poem of mine Was my earliest gift to you, Except that it had to have been written about someone else, Nevertheless it was the gesture accruing value to you, your essence, which you were still a child, and thereafter Across all these years. And see, see how much Has come from that first sonnet after our loving began, the one That was a kiss, a gift, a bestowal. This is the paradigm of fecundity. I think the poem is not Transparent, as some have said, nor a looking-glass, as some have also said, Yet it has almost the quality of disappearance. In its cage of visibility. It disperses among the words. It is a fluidity, a vapor, of love. This, the instinctual, is what caused me to write “Do you see?” instead of “Don’t you see?” in the first line Of this poem, this loving treatise, which is what gives away the poem And gives it all to you.
Hayden Carruth, from “The Impossible Indispensability of the Ars Poetica,” Tell Me Again How the White Heron Rises and flies Across the Nacreous River at Twilight Toward the Distant Islands (New Directions, 1989)
I leaned down to you, down to your words muffled by the wind, [… ]
The flowers crushed to your chest.
Hayden Carruth, closing lines to section 3. “The Ship” from “Mother,” Tell Me Again How the White Heron Rises and Flies Across the Nacreous River at Twilight Toward the Distant Islands (New Directions, 1989)
You just want a Prince Charming, but he’s not even close to that.
If there’s one thing all schools have in common, it is lunchtime.
You swear people really are like how Cady Heron pictured them as feral animals in “Mean Girls.” It practically is survival of the fittest with the large mass of people pouring out into the school hallways and shoving each other out of the way to get in the lunch line first.
Contrary to popular belief, your school lunch isn’t disgusting with Mystery Meat Mondays or Tuna Casserole Tuesdays. Your school’s food is the definition of heaven with its mouth-watering, insanely delicious dishes. Today is no different, and the menu looks amazing.
After grabbing your filled tray of food, you look around, searching for any glimpse of Baekhyun, who said he will meet you near the entrance. You finally see him along with Kyungsoo, waiting for you impatiently.
Heading towards your usual table with them in tow, you set your tray down next to Jongdae, who is already sitting and munching on an apple. You flop down into the vacant seat next to Jongdae as the other two sit on the other side of the table.
You are about ready to give a full-on rant about the unfairness and unfortunate event that unraveled in English class to Jongdae since Baekhyun and Kyungsoo already witnessed it themselves, but then you remember that he probably won’t care and will just laugh at your face for your misfortune.