Tall Order
bricolage


Dressed as an inspector, revealing clues
on the first fully modern campaign, the issue
is nourishment, and the irony of an attempt
to warm well-springs of joy with salvos
at the flaws of the only known world.
The ancient words are plain enough:
we are to become as little children.
This tall order and the nature of the effort
resemble the work of a sheltered person,
who turned to largely private ends,
who has seen at last that the price
of safety, of normality, is surely a mistake.
Roughly speaking, a person now
pressing on the doors of authenticity,
which, after something of a mystery,
bolder than the last and, in its sweep,
laying bare self-deception, may be found.
When one seeks to describe what has
happened, no names are used, and
halfway across the river, under pale skies,
we dare to whisper to one another
that honeyed phrase: a new life.

First published in Green (Graywolf Press,1989), revised 2024.
This poem combines fragments and phrases from my notes, conversations, and the NYTBR.
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