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/.]