notebook (untitled fragment): 3/24/87 12:30 am

Ten minutes after reading the by now familiar poems of A
I'm aware of how an ease in the sense of communication
Between his poems and their imagined readers
Suspends the moment of the poem - almost infinitely-
The listeners as an infinity of echo chambers
Fragmenting the remembered words and rejoining them
In an endless *assemblage* of intimate materials.
The poem frankly admits its status outside the needs
Of practical discourse, pulls over a chair and an ottoman
And elects to hold forth. "Words describe, people mean."
First, to find out about and hold on to-
To repeat and remember
Every day- easily slips away, into the
Torments of the righteous,
The wish to return punishments for slight.
Such a conversation is a touchstone, a lightning
Rod for admitting energies- a kind of circuit that
Can run from one person to another by means of spoken words
Which far transcends their immediate impact.
Such energy is occasioned by the ceremony
Of conversation, the constant background of thought.
Also, if you feel the need to exagerrate to make your point
This must be parly because your imagine that you
Lost the attention of your listeners.