The body captures the rhythm. A kind
of lilt to the step. Never a tread. You
are looking for ladders to the world.
Hooks. Sometimes it is like holding on
to the strap in a swaying subway.
The black tunnel floods past, then
the bright stations. People. Up to
the sunlight and out into the fields.
Walking mostly. Connections are
risky but can be pursued. Listen
to the voices calibrate the days.
God in the details. The weather.
The swift mortal river. Blood pouring
its bright chain. Speechless love.
john mann poems 
The best test a poem can pass in my opinion, is if it functions like a small factory with the reader as raw material. I go in the front and comes out the back altered. In this poem we have our mood or outlook altered, we are changed. It works and I feel better. I might argue that any change for the better is delusional because somewhere, a despot is torturing innocents, but how can I assert my resistance, even in the smallest way if I’m too despondent to function? The world is a mix of good and bad events, at least for us and at least for the present. Here you show us that your scope includes both possibilities. Poems like this one always make me want to convene a small ethos focused conference. They cause me to think “for today, at least, I will not dive head-first into the abyss.” If this is what this poem is about, then, I think it’s a good one.
Thanks so much, Steve. My poems are dark, often very dark–probably because the world is a dark place, or at least so it seems. Occasionally some light shines, as here, and like you, i am grateful. A poem is a momentary stay against confusion, a poet said, but for me it is a momentary stay against the abyss. Beauty itself is such a stay, I believe. I guess we can’t say these things out loud, so we have poems.
Best, John
On Mon, May 9, 2016 at 11:19 PM, john mann poems wrote:
>