A poem for today: Martha Ronk's "A blurry photograph"
A blurry photograph
The tree azalea overwhelms the evening with its scent,
defining everything and the endless fields.
Walking away, suddenly, it slices off and is gone.
The visible object blurs open in front of you,
the outline of a branch folds back into itself, then clarifies—just as you turn away—
and the glass hardens into glass
as you go about taking care of things abstractedly
one thing shelved after another, as if they were already in the past,
needing nothing from you until, smashing itself on the tile floor,
the present cracks open the aftermath of itself.
defining everything and the endless fields.
Walking away, suddenly, it slices off and is gone.
The visible object blurs open in front of you,
the outline of a branch folds back into itself, then clarifies—just as you turn away—
and the glass hardens into glass
as you go about taking care of things abstractedly
one thing shelved after another, as if they were already in the past,
needing nothing from you until, smashing itself on the tile floor,
the present cracks open the aftermath of itself.
A song for today: Since it's Iggy Pop's birthday, let's check out "The Passenger" from the brilliant Lust for Life album.
Works Cited
Pop, Iggy. "The Passenger." Lust for Life, RCA, 1977.
Ronk, Martha. "A blurry photograph." Poets.org. https://poets.org/poem/blurry-photograph. Accessed 21 April 2020.
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