Saw this, and thought it very spot-on.*************************The Improvement by John AshberyIs that where it happens?Only yesterday when I came back, I had thisdiaphanous disaffection for this room, for spaces,
for the whole sky and whatever lies beyond.
I felt the eggplant, then the rhubarb.
Nothing seems strong enough forthis life to manage, that sees beyond
into particles forming some kind of entity—so we get dressed kindly, crazy at the moment.
A life of afterwords begins.We never live long enough in our lives
to know what today is like.
Shards, smiling beaches,abandon us somehow even as we converse with them.
And the leopard is transparent, like iced tea.I wake up, my face pressedin the dewy mess of a dream. It mattered,because of the dream, and because dreams are by nature sad
even when there's a lot of exclaiming and beating
as there was in this one. I want the opennessof the dream turned inside out, exploded
into pieces of meaning by its own unasked questions,beyond the calculations of heaven. Then the larkspur
would don its own disproportionate weight,
and trees return to the starting gate.
See, our lips bend.
And all the line-breaks were munged -- my apologies, but you'll need to hunt up the orginal poem at http://www.favoritepoem.org/poems/ashbery/index.html
That's what happens when you try to steal a few winks.
Thanks for stopping by! :-)Willie