H e a r t   S o n s   &   H e a r t   D a u g h t e r s   of   A l l e n   G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m   H e a l t h   S p a :   R e p o r t   2 0 1 4 :   A r c h i v e s   E d i t i o n

 

 

RANDY ROARK

 

 

Richard III (1592-1593)

 

Happiness is the art of never holding in your mind

the memory of any unpleasant thing that has passed.

The Buddha

 

At first dash

like a circle in the lake

what I have said is true,

 

but in my memory books

everything is faced with artifice—

tailored for a story I’ve now told

 

so many times it’s become a ritual,

and what really happened

comes back only in dreams.

 

As the shadow of an eagle searches for a mouse

under the snow that covers the stubble

that’s left after harvest

 

I stand between my shadow and the sun.

I am only where I’ve been and what I’ve seen.

I step into wherever happens next.

 

What was I saying? I was in the

middle of a story. I could begin again

if you tell me where I stopped.

 

The brittle alabaster moon,

I’m not sleeping, a notebook

that once was full of words.

 

 

[Excerpt from The Shakespeare Poems by Randy Roark. Originally published in NHS 2012, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs12/.]