Wherever the dead are there they are and
Nothing more. But you and I can expect
To see angels in the meadowgrass that look
Like cows -
And wherever we are in paradise
in furnished room without bath and
six flights up
Is all God! We read
To one another, loving the sound of the s’s
Slipping up on the f’s and much is good
Enough to raise the hair on our heads, like Rilke and Wilfred Owen
Any person who loves another person,
Wherever in the world, is with us in this room -
Even though there are battlefields.
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Comments
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Thank god I picked up an edition of a couple of these Patchen love poems issued by Hallmark when I was ten and held an actual book in my hand back there. "Everywhere is a tent to put on our swirling show" or something along those lines.
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Many years ago, when my poetry was still mostly inside me and unable to find words, a student teacher compared my work to Kenneth Patchen. I feel honored and somewhat embarrassed by the comparison - embarrassed because my poetry has never reached the complexity of Patchen's. The imagery, concrete and tangible, is amazing to me. I can only hope to one day achieve something that is a shadow of his free verse.
Scott
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