Stephen Vincent – Elegy for The Present

Stephen Vincent

Elegy for The Present

I am trying hard to be relaxed, organized, productive I am trying hard to forget, immortalize and realize I am trying hard to be present, attentive and lovely I am trying to be aggressive, focused, totally on track I am trying to read, not read, read again I am trying to examine desire, be desire, love desire I am trying to pinch, push, pulverize I am not doing very good I am doing very bad I like the anxious feel of guilt I like the feel of failure I like paralysis I like to dumb it way down I like to turn on the television I like newscasters that don’t blink I like punishment I like to hear the count of the war dead I like the long lines waiting for gas in Iraq I like the boys and girls that are shot by mistake I like Presidential, Pentagon and Home Security News Conferences I am not doing very well I am afraid they are winning I am afraid I cannot rise to the table I cannot speak I cannot praise, celebrate or charm anyone I like surveillance, video monitors in the hallway, in my bedroom I like Jesus, the Father, the Holy Ghost I like Ronald Reagan, Jerry Ford and both Bushes I still cannot seem to like Nixon I am having a terrible day. The windows won’t open. I can hardly breathe I like old faded 1950’s Marilyn Monroe Calendars I like stories of the early, late and most recent plague I like bridge movies where the train falls off the edge I am getting too nostalgic I am not doing too well I am reading and not reading and then trying to read poetry I am sick and tired of Elvis. I want to see Clint smile I am tired of Lyn Cheney, Laura Bush and the Secretary of the Interior I am tired of seeing the same street bombed in Baghdad I want to live inside Google and count my PDFs I want to be a search engine without a task I want to pick up my life and put it in a compartment. I want to sell the compartment to science I want winter to be dark as can be and let it all be over I want to be an ocean without breakers, without waves, without salt I want to be one of the one thousand golf courses in Palm Springs I want the gray sky to slit its throat. I want this abuse – international, national and domestic – to absolutely stop I want to wake up without a war, without a threat, without their dumb terror I want the army, the navy and the marines to dissolve instantly I want real sweat to come out of my body I want real demons to come out of my body I want to stop writing this poem. I want to get back to work I want to stop being anxious I want the private blood to celebrate the public I am tired of public blood, the endless thirst for public blood I wanted a complicated, simple life with plenty of roses I want to feel great putting my shoulder to the wheel I want your love and my love and everybody’s love I want to hate on the most intimate level I want to dispel hate on the most intimate level I want the full circus everyday: lights, camera, action I want to dissolve the solitary poem into the grandest of actions I want to stop saying ‘want’ instantly I want the lack of want I don’t want the lack I don’t want anything I want to slow down I want to slow I want to I want I. .

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