Weekly Poem: ‘Re: Happiness, in pursuit thereof’
By C.D. Wright
It is 2005, just before landfall.
Here I am, a labyrinth, and I am a mess.
I am located at the corner of Waterway
and Bluff. I need your help. You will find me
to the left of the graveyard, where the trees
grow especially talkative at night,
where fog and alcohol rub off the edge.
We burn to make one another sing;
to stay the lake that it not boil, earth
not rock. We are running on Aztec time,
fifth and final cycle. Eyes switch on/off.
We would be mercurochrome to one another
bee balm or chamomile. We should be concrete,
glass, and spandex. We should be digital or,
at least, early. Be ivory-billed. Invisible
except to the most prepared observer.
We will be stardust. Ancient tailings
of nothing. Elapsed breath. No,
we must first be ice. Be nails. Be teeth.
C.D. Wright has published 13 collections of poetry and prose. “Re: Happiness, in pursuit thereof” is taken from her most recent book, “Rising, Falling, Hovering” (Copper Canyon, 2008), which in June won Canada’s Griffin Poetry Prize, bestowed by the Griffin Trust for Excellence in Poetry. Wright has also received fellowships from the MacArthur Foundation, the Guggenheim Foundation, the National Endowment for the Arts and the Lannan Foundation. In the ’90s, Wright served five years as the State Poet of Rhode Island. She is currently a professor of English at Brown University.