SWEDISH INTERMENT, Illinois Enchantment

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SWEDISH INTERMENT,

Illinois Enchantment

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,
I consider it a serious task, and put in a dedicated effort.

At prognostication I am gifted.
I have always been able to see around corners.
On our first night, the first night we had slept together,

You may recall, I told you that I saw our future,
I knew what was going to happen.

Allow me this declaration.

Once you actually experience,

Live an 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.

The notion strikes you

That you have been here once before
That current moment eerily reflects prior encounter.

This power strikes deep. It causes tremble,
And it bestows 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 midwinter.
I told you that your grandfather has spoken to me.
His voice emerged from a dream,
Though the setting was familiar, my own bedroom,
The light came from afar,
Suffusing the space and me within it,

I dwelled in delicious, excellent hues of yellow and blue.

He announced, said that I am the man of the house,
And he then assured me

(He spoke with unmistakable clarity)
That happiness the product of our life together.

I have another secret; I want to share it with you.
I envision major experience,
Not unlike Leda's when she learned;
It was a god who had entered her.
You should know that 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,
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,
And nose to whiff out the dreams,
Conferred 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, you were down the trail,
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!

From the threads of woven cotton.

They were your odors bursting up my nostrils
While I in my bed that lonely summer's night.
I had instantly recognized those fragrances,
Once I slept with you,
Once your presence entered my pores.

And now, again, the moment, it commands,
It plays out on the keyboard in front of me.

I realize that before I had met you,
I recognize that I had heard it, your name!
I heard your name,
It came to me from earlier time, at a time, prior,
Yes, actually previous to your birth!

I assure you, although I was not yet an adolescent,

As a child, no more than ten or eleven years old,
I had witnessed destiny from landscape in Illinois.

The refocusing veils of shimmer, aurora borealis,
The phantasmagoric curtains of shifting color,
Which at once 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 pronounced,
While the green and red flames of light crackled
Along the vault of the universe. I possessed it.

I learned your name from a storm in the heavens.

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 looked, and I now know that,

I had glimpse into the future.

I had witnessed destiny from landscape in Illinois.

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

The green and red flames crackled your name.

I learned your name from a storm in the heavens.

I was a child, no more than ten or eleven years old,
I stood upon the lawn at home, entranced, captive,
Gazing up into the aurora borealis, bewitched,

I ascertained a Swedish interment.