Bob Heman
Fleeing the Large Future
from INFORMATION
INFORMATION
Too many birds in the sky, the building heavy with clouds, the tree too loud, the water replacing the men who once were there. The history of those men the history of the word “fragile,” of the word “staircase,” of the word “almost.” The tunnels never revealed until it is too late.
INFORMATION
The poetry of small observations takes us only on small journeys. We are never allowed to look over the horizon, or to roll back the night sky, or to dig holes to places that have never existed. Instead the word that is repeated is only a word we have always known, its shadow never hidden or unable to be measured.
INFORMATION
The gods will only save those who can buy their way into heaven. The others will be given complex puzzles they are never able to solve.
INFORMATION
The lighthouse is only a comparison. There are roads sometimes, or a man signaling with his body.
INFORMATION
The song about the old gray mare had nothing to do with the discovery of radium. The man dressed in pajamas was not the same man once his outline was revealed. The elephants would always be the wrong kind of explanation. Still, they were mentioned far too often.
INFORMATION
Vegetables with feet. Rocks that smile. A sky that is too bumpy.
INFORMATION
They make a simple mistake that leads to door “B,” instead of doors “A” or “C.” They make a simple mistake that leaves the window halfway open, that allows the animals to be described differently each time they enter. They make a simple mistake, but those who follow never realize it is a mistake. That is why the narrative leads in the wrong direction.
INFORMATION
A small package, neatly tied. The rain carried in buckets around back to the stable. The words spoken garbled, or in a different language. The vehicles all the same. The road replaced with boats in the retellings. The man always entering with caution.
INFORMATION
They lived in different time zones even though they lived in the same house. The charts were never able to adequately explain this. The moon was sometimes a point of reference.
INFORMATION
One can sell a crab more quickly than a bicycle, a straw hat more quickly than a screwdriver. One can remove the trees from the park without affecting the horizon. One can hide on the beach until the tide goes out.
INFORMATION
This has never been about gunpowder, has never been about the water that has no source. Each time they speak about love, it is not about love they speak. The words worse once they are revealed to be not words at all, but only a gentle kind of fire.
INFORMATION
The moon is hiding someplace.
Bob Heman’s poem “Perfect” is included in A Cast-Iron Aeroplane That Can Actually Fly: Commentaries from 80 Contemporary American Poets on Their Prose Poetry (MadHat Press, 2019).
previous page contents next page
from INFORMATION
INFORMATION
Too many birds in the sky, the building heavy with clouds, the tree too loud, the water replacing the men who once were there. The history of those men the history of the word “fragile,” of the word “staircase,” of the word “almost.” The tunnels never revealed until it is too late.
INFORMATION
The poetry of small observations takes us only on small journeys. We are never allowed to look over the horizon, or to roll back the night sky, or to dig holes to places that have never existed. Instead the word that is repeated is only a word we have always known, its shadow never hidden or unable to be measured.
INFORMATION
The gods will only save those who can buy their way into heaven. The others will be given complex puzzles they are never able to solve.
INFORMATION
The lighthouse is only a comparison. There are roads sometimes, or a man signaling with his body.
INFORMATION
The song about the old gray mare had nothing to do with the discovery of radium. The man dressed in pajamas was not the same man once his outline was revealed. The elephants would always be the wrong kind of explanation. Still, they were mentioned far too often.
INFORMATION
Vegetables with feet. Rocks that smile. A sky that is too bumpy.
INFORMATION
They make a simple mistake that leads to door “B,” instead of doors “A” or “C.” They make a simple mistake that leaves the window halfway open, that allows the animals to be described differently each time they enter. They make a simple mistake, but those who follow never realize it is a mistake. That is why the narrative leads in the wrong direction.
INFORMATION
A small package, neatly tied. The rain carried in buckets around back to the stable. The words spoken garbled, or in a different language. The vehicles all the same. The road replaced with boats in the retellings. The man always entering with caution.
INFORMATION
They lived in different time zones even though they lived in the same house. The charts were never able to adequately explain this. The moon was sometimes a point of reference.
INFORMATION
One can sell a crab more quickly than a bicycle, a straw hat more quickly than a screwdriver. One can remove the trees from the park without affecting the horizon. One can hide on the beach until the tide goes out.
INFORMATION
This has never been about gunpowder, has never been about the water that has no source. Each time they speak about love, it is not about love they speak. The words worse once they are revealed to be not words at all, but only a gentle kind of fire.
INFORMATION
The moon is hiding someplace.
Bob Heman’s poem “Perfect” is included in A Cast-Iron Aeroplane That Can Actually Fly: Commentaries from 80 Contemporary American Poets on Their Prose Poetry (MadHat Press, 2019).
posted by mark young at 9:29 AM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home