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Wednesday, April 23, 2008



You know it's all bullshit, honey,
This talk of visionary moment and prophetic feat,
No more than ploy,
Another way me getting into your pants.

Yet loving you no quick turn of verse,
It's serious task, requiring dedicated effort.

At prognostication I am gifted.
I have always been able to see around corners.
On our first night in bed I told you I saw our future,
I knew what was going to happen.

And once you actually experience,
Event which I prefigure,

You recognize about it uncanny familiarity,
Déjà vu, you feel the situation,
As if it were previously known,
Or may have been already played,

A thing you witnessed ages before.

This power strikes deep. It causes tremble,
And pleasant excitement. It makes life expectant.
With me you will learn to swoon and shudder.

You will know warm and be hot all over,
Yet others freeze in mid winter.

I told you your grandfather speaks to me.
His voice emerges from a dream,
Though the setting's familiar, my own bedroom,
The light comes from afar,
Suffusing the space and me within
Most delicious, excellent hues of red and green.

He tells me I am the man of the house,
And gently brings to fore knowledg
Oh! He speaks with unmistakable clarity,

Happiness the product of our life together.

I have another secret; I want to share with you.
I prophesize major experience,
Not unlike Leda's when she learned,
It was a god who had entered her.

You should know from you will issue --
Yes, marvelous to relate! --
Being supreme, a mortal whose
Life and renown, belongs to that golden,
Regal realm, where Homer rules king.

I slip, revealing more than I intend.

I knew it. I knew it early on in life,
Long years before your birth,

Within truck farm fields,
Along the rows of cabbage and corn,
My love for you was growing strong,
I had sight then, ears to catch the sounds,
Nose to whiff out the dreams,
Bestowed on me, oracular, from on high.

I stepped out from the Hitching Post Diner.
I saw you! It was you.
On the packed-mud bridal path, just ahead,
By a yard or two, down the trail were you,
Your form preceded me, walking apace.

This last August, eleventh,
Before we had begun to date,
Between bed sheets wet from too much sweat,
Your heat wakened me.
I knew the smell of you!
They were your odors bursting up my nostrils
From the threads of woven cotton,
While I in my bed that lonely summer's night.

I had instantly recognized the fragrances,
Once I slept with you,
Once your presence entered my pores.

And now, again, the moment, it commands
My fingers on the keyboard before me.
Before I had met you,
I realize I heard it, your name!
I heard your name,
Though it came to me from time
Previous to your birth.

I assure you, when yet a child, preadolescent,
No more than ten or eleven years old,
I witnessed destiny from landscape in Illinois.

The refocusing veils of shimmer, aurora borealis,
The phantasmagoric curtains of shifting color,

So utterly present, then, in a feint,
As if by trick of hand, gone,
Held me captive; I had fallen to trance, bewitched,
And in the midst of this awesome, display,

From the far North, your name, I heard it.

I heard! I heard your name; it was announced,
While the green and red flames of light crackled
Along the vault of the universe,
I looked, glimpsed into future time.

And that very self-same night,
I was no more than ten or eleven years old,
From the backyard lawn of my childhood home,
Facing north and up into nighttime colors,

I saw oak trees growing outside an iron fence,
And above a low earthen mound, a cemetery marker,
My name, it was struck upon a gravestone.
I knew it. I knew the certainty;
The ground I saw was in Sweden.

The green and red flames crackled your name
Along the vault of the universe,
I stood entranced, captive,
Gazing into the aurora borealis, bewitched.

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