A Deepening Happiness
I woke up happy this morning.
and I donít know what to do.
The metamorphosis is total. Irreversible.
It is worse than Ovid, worse than Kafka.
I have not lived a poor life,
and have been blessed on sweet occasion to feel bright joy,
Sharp elation, the blue flower bliss,
Even a rare euphoria (with the aid of substances or human
It was nothing like this is.
I tried to write. I could not write.
I tried to swim through the world,
the syrupy matrix of it that has always slowed along like
drunken laughter from doorstep to Pluto.
It was like air.
My friends have begun to greet me as a picture of myself,
My brothers to view me from the other side of their eyes,
My lovers to notice my embrace imperfect,
because it is no longer desperate and wanting,
because it is no longer love.
These are turns that should make me unhappy
but I cannot see them that way.
Those who would love me less for my good fortune must themselves
not be worthy of me.
This thought makes me happy.
It is an ugly thought.
I went to bed happy last night,
Anticipated a flat stone dreamlessness that was delivered.
I will wake up tomorrow,
My soul burdened with the sins of the world
Bearing seven-and-sevenfold the many wounds I have inflicted on
Filled with gravel and the slow fire that can flash without
warning either white or red,
Or my prayers will go unanswered.
If you have any thoughts on this poem, Daniel Galef would
be pleased to hear them.