every gravestone should say "oops" right at the top.
we hate by accident. we love from brute biology.
we inherit our howl, our perfect notes and lines,
the need to grieve, the urge to join.
we are only essential at 5, not innocent
but still full of beat, heat, the smell of oxygen.
we diminish as all this -- THIS -- grows up around us.
oops. I didn't duck. oops. I stepped off the curb.
oops. I overdid that turn and left the road.
oops. I died.
once we were all on sandy knees, ruining our good pants
shaping mud and loam into paths and homes,
tracks in the forever grass, and we shared time
as easy as water falls.
we got dirty together, we got the play
and knew our roles, shed them and changed them
at will, the muddy will of small human ambition.
oops. I smoked too much. oops. I didn't see THAT coming.
oops. I didn't gauge the distance.
oops. I died.
Once we were free of liquor, free of the smoke and drink
and pills pressed upon us, free of the giddy allure of Wrong,
free of the unnecessary grit, powder, and vapor
that is now in the connectors and sprocketed parts of us,
eluding washaway. Once we were irreducible
and young.
oops. I was born in the horn of Africa.
oops. I annoyed a boy with a gun / i was in his line of fire /
I did nothing but breathe and crouch
where he wanted his bullet to be.
oops. I died.
Is this so hard? I oops you. You oops me.
once we were mud-pie splattered, all of us,
each with the lights of reason and delirious madness
playing on us, in us. once we were all response,
once we were indelible, once we measured
with dubious intent, and slipped it by, sly
-- and still we breathed with our whole self.
oops. I forgot about agile; I wanted no compromise,
no handover, no ransom, no give, no PAIN, no FEEL,
so I ate and I ate and I ate and I ate I ate and I ate
and my stomach gave way, way too much,
my guts failed; I ate my self up and
oops. I died.
once we used our eyes every single minute,
the sights of the day crowding and teetering in us,
until sleep, our hands at rest at last.
and every night our day made Tarantella in us,
all night long.
oops. I didn't see I just didn't realize and then it was too late.
oops. I drifted into sadness and made melancholy my motto.
oops. I drank for fun I drank for something to do I
drank to feel better I drank to make it right I
drank to feel better I drank to feel something I
drank and drank and drank and
oops. I died.
once this was us: alive! at play, together.
It is us now, still; it is in every tired eye on every street,
at every table, in every sagging bed.
lives lived en route, embedded in error like bones in aspic,
eyes tight with grief, a wet on our sleeves that won't erase,
our plain old oops and pardon me's and o man's obscured
by the adult business of What Just Happened
and What Is Planned.
every grave is oops. once we were all small and playing
with fierce meaning, sitting together making mudpies,
before all this -- THIS -- grew up around us.
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Seer
daisyjane
The Good Daughter
Chicken Mãâàn
the traveler
Ashley F. Miller
Salon.com
Comments
I've been thinking hard about what would go into an OS anthology for aspiring writers.
This is a cornerstone.
"oops. I was born in the horn of Africa.
oops. I annoyed a boy with a gun / i was in his line of fire /
I did nothing but breathe and crouch
where he wanted his bullet to be.
oops. I died."
especially loved this:
once we were all small and playing
with fierce meaning, sitting together making mudpies,
before all this -- THIS -- grew up around us.
it is so startling to me, to play with my 7 year old and remember the intensity of this....
I wrote the original after sitting and watching an old man die of alcoholism, at a state facility where i was an aide. I was required to take his vitals every 15 mins or so. Every time I did so he smiled at me. I quit the next day, and wrote the early version of this.
and young."
I've definitely been young before, but now I can't even remember a time when I was irreducible.
Great, great piece here.
rated
rated for excellence
"we got dirty together, we got the play
and knew our roles, shed them and changed them
at will, the muddy will of small human ambition."
Wonderful poem, Greg.
RATED for the oops we should all hold dear
i'm only hoping my last words won't be "hey, ya'll, watch this!"