Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.64.0801030838240.6668@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: elegy for Boojum, our companion cat, we are all poor
Date: Thu, 3 Jan 2008 08:38:43 -0500 (EST)
elegy for Boojum, our companion cat, we are all poor, 'i can't do elegy' - this is a poor and sleepless poem - when something's at the limit there's nothing more to say - for a moment i might have reversed the process but heard nothing more than wailing or sounds like an animal - nothing of crying, just tattered sound - nothing of warning, fear, existence, trepidation - nothing can be said on either side of death - neither this one nor that one - neither this nor the other - death is an other - (eighteen years, and death is an other) - death is everywhere, death is not around - (eighteen years, and death is everywhere, death is poor, death is not around) - always already other can't speak can't hear can't see - double needles, of sedative, of anesthetic overdose - doubled needles - who are these people & their kindness - (eighteen years and the kindness of strangers) - i'm done with it, the other's never done with it - always the last trip last day last night last meal last touch last scent last sound - (eighteen years and the last day and night, last touch and meal, last scent and sound) - in and out of the thick of it - the thick of it never changed - it stayed dry, viscous, substance and fissure - it's uncomfortable, stains, sticks to everything - lives on in us, exchanged, drops to the ground - crawls out, walks to the sea, drops to the ground - i can't drop to the ground, i drop to the ground - there's an elegy on, everyone's there - she says i think we're at the beginning of speech - she says she's very sad and wants to go hone - she stood dry, unattended - (eighteen years and dry and unattended, accompanied and unaccompanied, who can go into and out of the world) - the fire went out, into the world -- today someone counted elements, earth, fire, water, wind, air, heat, dearth, wood, & metal - (eighteen years and the counting of elements) - how was the air, the air was cold, bitter, the wind harsh, we turned the carrier against the wind, dearth of it all, harboring a flame until the last, dying in our arms, the metal table, off to a far wood of hunting - the world is filled with secret coordinates - impermanence of the metallic - she says she thought of the limit - in a small heaven somewhere - & now we are silent in the night, existence is silent - existence crawls, we heard her cries, the catheter carefully inserted elsewhere in the building - we held her heat against us, we exchanged heat - the tablets - prayer wheel spinning above a slow flame - we couldn't bear to empty her water, clean her bowl of food, now despair reigns, & in our arms nothing happened, everything seized -- 'this is a poor and sleepless poem' - without goodbyes, with ill-knowledge, with infinite regret, with the world undone - (eighteen years and the world undone) - ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah ah