Poems 1959-2009

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Poems 1959-2009 Page 10

by Frederick Seidel


  Who is waiting on a bed in a room in the afternoon for God.

  His Majesty is on his way, who long ago has died.

  She is a victim in the kingdom, and is proud.

  Have pity on me a thousand years from now when we meet.

  Open the mummy case of this text respectfully.

  You find no one inside.

  THE COSMOS TRILOGY (2003)

  The Cosmos Poems (2000)

  1. INTO THE EMPTINESS

  Into the emptiness that weighs

  More than the universe

  Another universe begins

  Smaller than the last.

  Begins to smaller

  Than the last.

  Dimensions

  Do not yet exist.

  My friend, the darkness

  Into which the seed

  Of all eleven dimensions

  Is planted is small.

  Travel with me back

  Before it grows to more.

  The church bell bongs,

  Which means it must be noon.

  Some are playing hopscotch

  Or skipping rope during recess,

  And some are swinging on swings,

  And seesaws are seesawing.

  That she is shy,

  Which means it must be May,

  Turns into virgin snow

  And walking mittened home with laughing friends.

  And the small birds singing,

  And the sudden silence,

  And the curtains billow,

  And the spring thunder will follow—

  And the rush of freshness,

  And the epileptic fit that foams.

  The universe does not exist

  Before it does.

  2. MIRROR FULL OF STARS

  A can of shaving cream inflates

  A ping-pong ball of lather,

  Thick, hot, smaller than an atom, soon

  The size of the world.

  This does take time to happen.

  Back at the start

  Again, a pinprick swells so violently

  It shoots out

  Hallways to other worlds,

  But keeps expanding

  Till it is all

  There is. The universe is all there is.

  Don’t play with matches.

  The candle flame follows her

  With its eyes. The night sky is a mirror

  On a wall.

  What she stands in front of are the roaring afterburners

  Of the distant stars a foot away

  Leaving for another world. They have been summoned

  To leave her

  For another girl

  In another world who stands there looking

  In a mirror full of stars

  At herself in her room.

  The room is not really,

  But it might be. If there is

  Something else as beautiful

  As this snow softly falling outside, say.

  The universe begins

  With a hot ball of lather expanding

  In a hand

  That should be in her bed asleep.

  3. WHO THE UNIVERSE IS

  The opposite of everything

  That will be once

  The universe begins

  Is who it is.

  Laws do not apply

  To the pre-universe.

  None of it

  Does not make sense.

  Puffs to the size

  Of an orange in one single stunned

  Instant

  From smaller than a proton.

  Morning coffee black

  Happiness so condensed

  Had to expand to this,

  Had to expand to this,

  Had to expand to this

  Universe of love

  Of freezing old

  Invisible dark matter

  To give it gravity.

  If the hot unbelievable

  Nothingness feeds

  Itself into a hole and starts,

  None of this does not make sense

  Once you understand

  The stars are who it is,

  The sisters and the brothers.

  Set the toaster setting between Light and Dark

  And the unimaginable

  Pre-universe will pop up a slice of strings

  In eleven dimensions which balloons.

  4. UNIVERSES

  Think of the suckers on the tentacles

  Without the tentacles. A honeycomb

  Of space writhing in the dark.

  Time deforming it, time itself deformed.

  Fifteen billion light-years later a president

  Of the United States gives the Gettysburg Address.

  Two minutes. The solar system

  Star beams down on him.

  Other special stars express themselves,

  Not shy at all, particles

  Of powder floating on the swirl, each

  Vast—each a vast pillow covering

  A hidden speck it murderously

  Attempts to suffocate.

  The speck will eat it up.

  The speck of gravity is a hole.

  Through that hole there is a way.

  There are as many of these, there are as many of these

  Invisible black caviar

  Specks as it would take

  To fill the inside of St. Peter’s to the roof.

  It is the number

  Of grains of sand on the shores

  Surrounding the continent of Africa times ten.

  Each invisible eyelet is a black hole

  Highway out of time.

  Think of the universe as a beanbag

  On a bobsled on a run under lights at night.

  Inside are universes.

  It is incompletely dark inside.

  There is motion.

  There is the possibility.

  5. BLACK STOVEPIPE HAT

  The wobbly flesh of an oyster

  Out of its shell on the battlefield is the feel

  Of spacetime

  In the young universe.

  The petals of the rose

  Of time invaded

  The attitude of zero and made it

  Soften its attitude.

  Lincoln’s black stovepipe hat

  Was dusty when he sat down

  To scant applause. Many in the crowd did not know

  He had just delivered

  The Gettysburg Address, but it is over,

  And the stars keep on redshifting,

  The universe keeps on expanding

  The petals of the rose.

  U. S. Grant’s cigar’s red tip

  Pulsed the primal fireball out

  Through the new universe

  It was the creator of with shock waves.

  Speckles of the stars

  And baby’s breath (the flower)

  Activate infinity

  And decorate the parlor.

  Baby’s breath is counting on the roses

  With it in the vases.

  It is difficult to understand

  Why the universe began.

  It is difficult to be

  Robert E. Lee.

  Why does the cosmos have to happen?

  What is another way?

  6. THE CHILDHOOD SUNLIGHT

  Blessed is the childhood sunlight

  The solar star emotes.

  Darkly filled-up emptiness

  And galaxies too far away

  Are what we feel inside ourselves

  That make us want to walk somewhere,

  And then we run and jump and sing.

  The universe is not enough,

  We rock ’n’ roll to other ones

  Through black hole wormhole timeways,

  But here right now the rain has stopped,

  The air is warm.

  The parking lot washed clean smells sweet,

  And even has a rainbow that

  A little girl tiptoes toward,

&nbs
p; Hoping not to frighten it.

  The neighbor’s dog that won’t go home

  Is watching her—which she can’t see—

  With naked eyes of love and awe.

  She feels that way herself sometimes.

  When you are sure that you’re alone,

  Tell yourself to not be sure.

  This universe is not the first.

  The other ones are not the same.

  Or anyway no one can know.

  At night when she should be asleep

  She lights a match and blows it out

  To show she has the power to.

  Computers crunch the numbers and

  The other stars lie down and say

  The sun exhausts itself with light.

  So good night.

  7. BEYOND THE EVENT HORIZON

  And isn’t it

  The presence of a thing

  That can’t be seen

  More massive than the universe?

  And isn’t it the strings

  Of its own gut beneath infinity the bow

  Who vibrate musically to make

  The Primal Scene?

  You realize this means

  The massless spin-2 particle whose

  Couplings at long distances

  Are those of general relativity.

  It means

  Strings of an instrument that are

  Ten to the minus thirty-two centimeters

  In diameter in the Theory of Everything.

  It means the temple

  Is of a size

  Too small for belief—indeed, whose

  Dimensions do not begin.

  O instrument.

  O scene that moves the bow.

  We could be everything that

  Could be otherwise,

  Reversed inside the tiny walled whirlpool

  Of a black hole, but can’t.

  Even infinity is stuck and can’t stop.

  We could be

  Playing with the toys

  In another space,

  Generating the video

  Of something else.

  8. BLUE AND PINK

  The very young universe has reached

  The size of a BB.

  The idiopathic

  Rheostat dialed up the expansion.

  Suddenly it sticks out

  A hair of spacetime.

  It is of course the size of the universe

  Inside the tiny BB.

  All this happened long ago,

  But still is happening

  In my mind as I look for the runway

  In the fumes.

  Oxygen

  Is not in the atmosphere

  Of this particular planet.

  The mother-of-pearl means that

  If we decide to land,

  We will slide. The ammonia park

  Is the innocent summer’s day

  Colors of a Della Robbia terra-cotta statue.

  The oil derrick–like devices pumping

  Are the creatures.

  We do a flyby

  And decide better not.

  Baby blanket blue and baby blanket pink we were warned

  To watch out for when we were launched.

  The good ship Gigabyte

  Sails the seas of space.

  Girls and boys, every planet we visit is different.

  Some are made of ice cream and some are the blue and pink

  Of the sign in front of the movie star’s house:

  ARMED RESPONSE.

  9. GALAXIES

  Everyone knows that the moon

  Is made of rice,

  But how many of you know

  That the jellyfish

  You see in the picture on page 8—

  Everybody open your book—

  Is eleven million light-years wide?

  It is beautiful, to boot.

  It is beautiful to kick

  The ball into the goal.

  It is beautiful to know how

  To answer the phone.

  The jelly that looks like frog spawn

  You see in the back pond

  Is so many stars.

  No, stars are different from Mars.

  Everybody come to the window.

  The blackness of space

  Is simply the everything we are,

  Subtracting the light.

  The everything we are,

  Minus the light,

  Is what the battery acid is

  Without the bulb.

  But the bulb without the lens

  To focus the heart

  Is the spaceship we are all in

  Without the artificially created gravity we need.

  We all need

  Our mothers and fathers who are dead.

  We all need to be good

  In case we will die too.

  10. FEMINISTS IN SPACE

  The stars are happy flowers in a meadow.

  The grass is green and sweetly modest.

  The burble of the brook

  Is the thrust powered back.

  Best friend, you walk with me through life,

  Let’s take a walk in space.

  I’m suiting up, not easy, lots of laughter,

  Squirming out of the girl suit, floating into the other.

  We will be feminists in space,

  Flying toward the stars,

  With our backpack portable life-support,

  All a grownup needs,

  Even if there is a tether back to the mother

  Ship we came from.

  Leave your dolls behind.

  Opening the hatch.

  Two gentlemen are out taking a stroll

  In their space suits big as polar bears.

  That blue-eyed snowball is the planet Earth.

  Oh, there’s America, my earth, my ground.

  Cars and factories and rain forests burning have farted

  The cloud cover that suffocates the ball,

  Which up here we jet away from

  With our jet nozzles, squirting around like squids.

  We can do anything we want.

  We can turn somersaults all day long.

  I also want to star in a movie but I want to sing

  By being a scientist and being my brain.

  Women of the world unite

  Already at ten years old.

  Two friends are skipping home from school,

  Each with her own thoughts.

  11. THIS NEW PLANETARIUM

  The universe roars an expletive

  Starburst in every direction

  Like the U.S. Navy Blue Angels

  Flying their routine.

  Everyone talks about the silence of light

  But no one talks about the sound

  Beyond decibels that

  Is equally uncontainable,

  And which the heavens declare the glory

  Of as the jets explode

  In joys expanding at a rate

  That is increasing.

  It is the candles

  On a birthday cake blowing out

  But lighting up—it is after the fast

  A feast of spacetime

  Faster and faster, uncontainable,

  As the whole thing breathes out,

  The rib cage of the universe expanding

  Quite a bit faster than at the beginning.

  Everyone talks about the silence

  But no one talks about the sound.

  I hear the light.

  I hear the mighty organ bellowing heaven through

  The bars of my playpen and I

  Stand up, wobbling, age one,

  Holding on to the sunshine

  That is falling outside my window.

  The light roars through this new planetarium.

  Most of the universe is

  The dark matter we are not made of,

  But we stand.

  12. INVISIBLE DARK MATTER

  It is the invisible

  Dark matter w
e are not made of

  That I am afraid of.

  Most of the universe consists of this.

  I put a single normal ice cube

  In my drink.

  It weighs one hundred million tons.

  It is a sample from the densest star.

  I read my way across

  The awe I wrote

  That you are reading now.

  I can’t believe that you are there

  Except you are. I wonder what

  Cosmologists don’t know

  That could be everything

  There is.

  The someone looking at the page

  Could be the everything there is,

  Material that shines,

  Or shined.

  Dark matter is another

  Matter. Cosmologists don’t know.

  The physicists do not.

  The stars are not.

  Another thing beside

  The row of things is

  Standing there. It is invisible,

  And reads without a sound.

  It doesn’t matter

  That it doesn’t really.

  I need to take its hand

  To cross the street.

  13. A TWITTERING BALL

  A twittering ball of birds

  Repeatedly bursts in the sky,

  Losing its shape but regaining it,

  Making a fist and unfolding finger by finger

  Time and galaxies and dust

  Out of the little beginning herpes

  Pimple swelling

  Energy out, heat, huge,

  Spacetime hiccuping

  Itself outward into

  Itself in exponential surges

  According to the mathematics.

  The mathematics prepares

  The student stars.

  It predicts a certain

  Unevenness in the performance.

  How to connect the very small

  To the very large is the task

  Ahead. The task ahead

  Is the path of the mathematics not yet

  Walked down to the place

  Where we meet in a mirror,

  Sit down together, raise a glass of wine

  And smile, nodding in accord.

  General relativity

  And quantum theory at the same table at last

  Lift a fork

  The size of the universe to eat a pea.

  The Planck length is the pea.

  Hawking guiding his self-powered wheelchair

  And Einstein riding his bicycle

  Walk the Planck.

  14. THE STAR

  I was thinking about dogs

  To fight death.

  They get hold of it by the teeth and can

  Go on forever.

 

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