When does one no longer wish
to move like a dancer, instead
being a dancer
like whom others wish to move?
In mid-step, when effort
ceases to be effort.
In sleep, when practiced rhythms
assimilate into the limbs
at last, as one drop
turns a crown of surface tension
into a cascade.
In an instant like those
observed in the most minute physics,
known only by before and after.
Otherwise
The invisible man of the movies
must go naked,
unless we are to believe
that his clothing turns invisible on contact,
the way one paper-clip
will magnetize another,
the way, as once was feared,
the world's water might begin
to tilt from the inside of its molecules,
one setting off the rest
until the seas turned to gel.
Otherwise, his unseen, contagious touch
might push all matter out of sight,
make it unknowable, like assumptions
before they clash, or turn to speech.
We'd be good as blind,
or witness to a vacant light,
and the plenty before our eyes
is already not enough.
We are bound to hope
the invisible man is, in fact, unclothed.
Our world depends upon his naked state.
Depressive
Overshadowed by a blade of grass,
soaked by one rain-drop,
struck down by a dandelion seed.
Carried off by a sparrow
that will soon despair
of the bitter taste in the flesh,
the millstone's weight.
Fifteen Death Poems
Let's see
if the burning
outlasts the candle.
*
By an invisible rope
I am hanged
from the clouds.
*
Egg, tadpole, frog—
then what the frog becomes.
*
A melon left on the vine
until the frost
outgrows its skin.
*
A robe
laid out at my birth
now fits.
*
To be released
from four seasons,
or bound to a fifth.
*
A petal falls
on breaking ice
and floats downstream.
*
This reflection
will weigh down
no more puddles.
*
Moss that grew ten thousand years
would not offer shade, or bear a plum.
*
One last oar-stroke
between a shore I've forgotten
and one I've never seen.
*
In bottomless water
a salmon's leap
begins and ends.
*
Ice water
cools the cup,
then the encircling hand.
*
Noon sun, full moon—
two more coins
that buy me nothing now.
*
There is air,
there is water,
and no bubble.
*
Time to pay for the bowl
that has kept the rice
from spilling, losing flavor.
J.D. Smith lives in Washington, D.C. His books include the collection Settling for Beauty (Cherry Grove Collections), his first collection, The Hypothetical Landscape (Quarterly Review of Literature Poetry Series), and the edited anthology Northern Music: Poems About and Inspired by Glenn Gould (John Gordon Burke, Publisher). His children’s book The Best Mariachi in the World is forthcoming from Raven Tree Press in 2008. His poems have received three Pushcart nominations, and his essays and reviews have appeared in American Book Review, Grist and Pleiades. His literary and genre fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, and his play Dig was produced by Chicago’s Squaresville Theatre in 2003. His work currently appears in the anthologies In a Fine Frenzy: Poets Respond to Shakespeare (University of Iowa Press) and Poetic Voices Without Borders (Gival Press). His work is forthcoming in the anthology Enopoetica: A Collection of Poetry Inspired by Wine, to be published by Story Line Press in 2006. His op-ed "Pop Viagra and Save a Rhino" recently appeared in The Los Angeles Times.
Photos via stock.xchng. Top photo by Dirk D.
to move like a dancer, instead
being a dancer
like whom others wish to move?
In mid-step, when effort
ceases to be effort.
In sleep, when practiced rhythms
assimilate into the limbs
at last, as one drop
turns a crown of surface tension
into a cascade.
In an instant like those
observed in the most minute physics,
known only by before and after.
Otherwise
The invisible man of the movies
must go naked,
unless we are to believe
that his clothing turns invisible on contact,
the way one paper-clip
will magnetize another,
the way, as once was feared,
the world's water might begin
to tilt from the inside of its molecules,
one setting off the rest
until the seas turned to gel.
Otherwise, his unseen, contagious touch
might push all matter out of sight,
make it unknowable, like assumptions
before they clash, or turn to speech.
We'd be good as blind,
or witness to a vacant light,
and the plenty before our eyes
is already not enough.
We are bound to hope
the invisible man is, in fact, unclothed.
Our world depends upon his naked state.
Depressive
Overshadowed by a blade of grass,
soaked by one rain-drop,
struck down by a dandelion seed.
Carried off by a sparrow
that will soon despair
of the bitter taste in the flesh,
the millstone's weight.
Fifteen Death Poems
Let's see
if the burning
outlasts the candle.
*
By an invisible rope
I am hanged
from the clouds.
*
Egg, tadpole, frog—
then what the frog becomes.
*
A melon left on the vine
until the frost
outgrows its skin.
*
A robe
laid out at my birth
now fits.
*
To be released
from four seasons,
or bound to a fifth.
*
A petal falls
on breaking ice
and floats downstream.
*
This reflection
will weigh down
no more puddles.
*
Moss that grew ten thousand years
would not offer shade, or bear a plum.
*
One last oar-stroke
between a shore I've forgotten
and one I've never seen.
*
In bottomless water
a salmon's leap
begins and ends.
*
Ice water
cools the cup,
then the encircling hand.
*
Noon sun, full moon—
two more coins
that buy me nothing now.
*
There is air,
there is water,
and no bubble.
*
Time to pay for the bowl
that has kept the rice
from spilling, losing flavor.
J.D. Smith lives in Washington, D.C. His books include the collection Settling for Beauty (Cherry Grove Collections), his first collection, The Hypothetical Landscape (Quarterly Review of Literature Poetry Series), and the edited anthology Northern Music: Poems About and Inspired by Glenn Gould (John Gordon Burke, Publisher). His children’s book The Best Mariachi in the World is forthcoming from Raven Tree Press in 2008. His poems have received three Pushcart nominations, and his essays and reviews have appeared in American Book Review, Grist and Pleiades. His literary and genre fiction has appeared in a variety of publications, and his play Dig was produced by Chicago’s Squaresville Theatre in 2003. His work currently appears in the anthologies In a Fine Frenzy: Poets Respond to Shakespeare (University of Iowa Press) and Poetic Voices Without Borders (Gival Press). His work is forthcoming in the anthology Enopoetica: A Collection of Poetry Inspired by Wine, to be published by Story Line Press in 2006. His op-ed "Pop Viagra and Save a Rhino" recently appeared in The Los Angeles Times.
Photos via stock.xchng. Top photo by Dirk D.
