Poem Revisited : Practicing Down, by Robert Lietz
Over the years, Terrain.org has featured several long poems from Ohio poet Robert Lietz, a poet whose work seemed to embrace the idea of hypertext even before HTML came onto the literary scene (or, perhaps more appropriately, before literature came onto the HTML scene).
“Practicing Down,” a 9-part poem, appeared in our second issue. Here is the first part:
Practicing Down
Practicing Down (1)
Once, I think, for good. Then the story-line divides.
Too many clouds. Too many pieces to see fit. And
then the day builds over us — stretched /skewed /strung –
the intimacies restored to all of their hard uses.
And more — as the moonlight frays — in the births
and star-crossed weddings Time conspires — more
as the story-lines divide — the frogs and the strung birds
vanishing — and the ghosts of husbands
target-shooting in “the Swedes” — finding their ways
by heart /and by the heart of her instructing.
I think of the counter and caught breath — phlegm
cleared to tell — of that cold cold well
and chiarascuro deepening — of two in Alaskan light — coaxed
to the evening’s violet hues and primaries –
and two — and we — there where the waters rose –
where the woes flared plausibly and healed –
coaxed by interiors to forms and by the hard play of desire –
practicing down /down — stroked by the shade
and light and stories she would sieze on — blind –
or blind almost — bored as she was by weeks and weeks
of library recordings.
I think how the wind-lifted late-winter limbs lift over them.
And over the dreams we’re drawn to — and
then — in an instant — gone — and then — in an instant –
finished with — alive in this knowledge visiting.
I think of the cold and costs of living alone and centermost –
a chamber as still as love and children in good favor —
considering that slipped deliberated shell — and — troubles
enough /God knows — and then — in that instant –
gone — conceding this much to lungs to finally concentrate –
practicing down /down — given these first
cold rains and end of season freezes.
And more — as the light /the vibrancies /the story-lines
spin down — over the macabre carpeting — stroked
to another poetry — stroked by this cold
/cold hand I brought my own to trembling — remembering
the light-gathering /light-lettered consequence –
the terrible and compounding valentines — that troubled
but hard resilience in so many plastic things –
and — once — I think — for good — given
that colt-quick and icy siring — instructing love
/inviting love in as accomplice.
~~~
Read the full poem at http://www.terrain.org/poetry/2/lietz.htm.

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