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About this Poem 

“‘Another Poem’ is what it says, another instance of effort in a loop or line of trying. It maps compositional ordinariness onto other more ‘trying’ routines—waking for work, fueling with coffee, filling out forms and filling forms out, enduring weather—the ‘gray games’ within which something else can happen: poetry, love, struggle. The poem is neither particularly pessimistic nor optimistic, but as documentary as its descriptive title; maybe it does permit itself to try to hear, in the word ‘west,’ a version of Molly Bloom's ‘yes’ that ends Ulysses, that epic of movement through the quotidian.”
Geoffrey G. O’Brien

Another Poem

I bypassed all the compromise,
The first ten problems of speech
And the latest, the sharpest, the contest,
Then began, having already fallen,
To rise just less, weaker than
My chore, yours, made else
By othering, by day by day,
The schedules, the routes, task
Whose claim I forgot to throw off,
Rising less but somewhat up anyway
With a kind of strength for having
Done so several times before.
I mean all times so far
Which is the taste of coffee gone
This latest one, and that it sticks
Like nothing else has ever done.
It isn’t a calamity so much
As a disaster that it’s not one.
Things already were real, are
Never just. Did not just get,
Can’t help being so. This
Massive ordinary cloud
Where I surrendered to
Filling out a form in the rain
That doesn’t come or does,
Sent down or kept in overplus
Till the next storm’s approved,
The face notified of its context,
The sequence continuing west
West I said west, turning up
To receive some all,
To celebrate that share of sense
Breaking into day then run
After it as through gray games
I plan to win by losing only
Every time but one, the next
To last or after that, though
What it’s called when it comes
I don’t, I do, pretend to know.

Copyright © 2015 by Geoffrey G. O'Brien. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 10, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

Copyright © 2015 by Geoffrey G. O'Brien. Originally published in Poem-a-Day on August 10, 2015, by the Academy of American Poets.

Geoffrey G. O'Brien

Geoffrey G. O'Brien

Geoffrey G. O'Brien is the author of People on Sunday (Wave Books, 2013), Metropole (University of California Press, 2011), Green and Gray (University of California Press, 2007), and The Guns and Flags Project (University of California Press, 2002). He teaches English at the University of California, Berkeley and San Quentin State Prison and lives in Berkeley, California.

by this poet

poem
An away of practice the other is
Like a river out of acts the other is
Hapless, unheard, with marks upon him
Having dallied in tarrying unwisely
Backlit at an undecidable remove
In a house of marks the other is
Useless deciding whether to go
Or wait in best practices like a child
A hapless river filled with sand
poem

To remember people in the act
Of speaking is to love them
And not the turquoise substrate
Redon supposed was all there was
To vases, any container, the vessel
Objects are. To remember
People in the act of speaking
Is to love them, but not for anything
They say. An open mouth

poem
Control has been candied and exchanged
So many times it feels like the night 
Of the day, a troubled ride through 
A beginning whose motor announces
It's still the mild guardian 
Of a human bird we don't yet hear.
She needs no protection nor exists
Except as a set of performances,
Notes mistaken for an identity