Time is a Toy: The Selected Poems of Michael Benedikt

Poem to be Looked at During a Nauseating War That is Making Everybody Sick

126 poem to be looked at during a nauseating war that is making everybody sick If you could see everybody as they sleep, if you could see how likely they are to assume the defenseless and trustful positions that the active body remembers best by relapsing, by imaging silently into flesh; if you could see the closed eyes, the mouth half-open as if expecting to be fed, the hair almost perfectly combed by the repeated multiple purity of random motions; if you could see the arms curved against the sides and the hands half-curled under, fists and wrists loose and good for fighting nothing; if you could see the legs, too, bent not for advancing or receding, but poised as if for leaping straight up; if you couldseeclearly,surpassingtheseuselesslydubiousprofessionalassertionsin all directions; if you could see just once, without the usual slogans, speeches, oranyspeechatall,withouteventhepossibilityof infectionfromtheangering sightof woundswhichbothsidesrevealorconcealforthesakeof TVcameras— justonceliftingvisionbeyondjournalism,the6p.m.news,orWalterCronkite— if you could see it, even if you didn’t see it in color, come to think of it, even if you didn’t happen to see everybody, maybe just a few sleepers from the immediate region, East Side or West Side, if you could see it and the wind was right, that is, if conditions were favorable, if you could manage only a glimpse even at this late date, you might still see this world, you might be convinced that the first dreams are still the final dreams, and that these first and final dreams are neither of exploitation nor imperialism. ...