It makes me post poems-not-my-own. I’m exhausted from teaching literature-on-repeat, among other things equally tiring. I’ll keep the remaining details off the radar for the moment (mostly so I don’t bore you).
Here’s a Robert Frank photo to tide you over (something of a lament just in time for the spring weather to leave us) until I can post something noteworthy, and an oft-recited poem from John Berryman’s Dream Songs. I used to do some photography, and Frank was one of my idols. I hope you enjoy the poem or the photo or the poem-photo or all of the above. Good night, yawn.
Dream Song 14
Life, friends, is boring. We must not say so.
After all, the sky flashes, the great sea yearns,
we ourselves flash and yearn,
and moreover my mother told me as a boy
(repeatingly) “Ever to confess you’re bored
means you have no
Inner Resources.” I conclude now I have no
inner resources, because I am heavy bored.
Peoples bore me,
literature bores me, especially great literature,
Henry bores me, with his plights & gripes
as bad as Achilles,
who loves people and valiant art, which bores me.
And the tranquil hills, & gin, look like a drag
and somehow a dog
has taken itself & its tail considerably away
into the mountains or sea or sky, leaving
behind: me, wag.
2 Responses to “What the Exhaustion Does”
Amy King is the recipient of the 2015 Winner of the Women’s National Book Association (WNBA) Award. Her latest collection, The Missing Museum, is a winner of the 2015 Tarpaulin Sky Book Prize. She serves on the executive board of VIDA: Women in Literary Arts and is co-editing with Heidi Lynn Staples the anthology Big Energy Poets of the Anthropocene: When Ecopoets Think Climate Change. She also co-edited the anthology Bettering American Poetry 2015 and is a professor of creative writing at SUNY Nassau Community College.