“There’s never a dull moment in the human body.” —The Insight
Dear old equivocal and closest friend,
Grand Vizier to a weak bewildered king,
Now we approach The Ecclesiastean Age Where the heart is like to go off inside your chest Like a party favor, or the brain blow a fuse And the comic-book light-bulb of Idea black out Forever, the idiot balloon of speech Go blank, and we shall know, if it be knowing,
The world as it was before language once again;
Mighty Fortress, maybe already mined And readying to blow up grievances About the lifetime of your servitude,
The body of this death one talkative saint Wanted to be delivered of (not yet!),
Aggressively asserting your ancient right To our humiliation by the bowel Or the rough justice of the elderly lecher’s Retiring from this incontinence to that;
Dark horse, it’s you we’ve put the money on Regardless, the parody and satire and The nevertheless forgiveness of the soul Or mind, self, spirit, will or whatever else The ever-unknowable unknown is calling itself This time around—shall we renew our vows?
How should we know by now how we might do Divorced?
Homely animal, in sickness and health,
For the duration; buddy, you know the drill.
Howard Nemerov was born on February 29th, 1920 in New York.
He died of cancer at his home in University City,
Missouri on July 5th 1991.
