Ronald J. Pelias's work has appeared in a number of journals, including Midwest Poetry Review, Coal City Review, Poetry East,and Negative Capability. My most recent books, Leaning: A Poetics of Personal Relations (Left Coast Press/Routledge), Performance: An Alphabet of Performative Writing (Left Coast Press/Routledge), and If the Truth Be Told (Sense Publications), call upon the poetic as a research strategy. Wish Crawling toward your final hour, dragging a fool’s history of errors across everyday’s sharp glass, trying to grab another day, you utter another wish as if desire, that sliver of sun, might soon melt your frozen heart. Final Years Others walk around him as if his age can’t be touched Others sit, fidgeting, wondering when enough time has gone by Others speak, leaning in, loud and slow, as if to a child who won’t listen Others attend, checking, worried, concern covering every word Others drive, after buckling him in, as if care equals containment Others show photographs he can hardly see, believing his life is memory Others forget, as if stopping for a moment is the same as regret What the Skeleton Resents Being an object lesson, labels pointing to all its parts, gathering dust in doctor offices and school rooms, or hanging from a limb on Halloween nights, standing sentry at tombs of the unknown being dependent upon the hinges, the connecting links, how together the parts would move, each twist calling for another part’s turn, each reach carrying the weight below, without asking for consent being bound to protect the heart, the brain knowing how they could suffer a blow, a crack, to keep all safe, how all the other parts get the body’s credit while its marrow does the labor of replenishing cells and healing the sick being placed in plaster when broken, made to suffer written rubbish above its wound, or dropped in the ground, dirt thrown in its face or burned into bits and pieces knowing that once it was more than itself being structures that let lives live, being abandoned, left like fallen bricks.
1 Comment
1/25/2017 07:31:40 am
I am struck by one of Mr. Ronald's poem. I love his poem entitled "Last Years". It reminds me of my grandparents. They have grown old. I wonder what does it feel to be that old. I wonder if they have regrets in life and unfulfilled goals.
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