Songs of Harmony/Songs of Discord

[Sentimental Gentleman]

I've been reading Jacob Rabinowitz's brilliant, Beat-inflected translation of the corpus of Catullus again, and as usual I find myself striving after the conversational clarity and forcefulness of his rendering of that august poet. In addition, I've felt that I needed to write something to sooth my feelings in this time of ups and downs. And so I wrote this unworthy (and probably too conversational) little lyric which touches on how A.J. has comforted me in this trial.

My grandfather, he who loved my mother
As his daughter and me
As another son, is in a thousand pieces
All as black as the soil of the garden where he coaxed forth
His tomatoes and his peppers; their sweetness is still in my mind
Now that he has greeted the fire of the crematory

I wonder, if I ran him through my hands,
Would one of those ashes once have been
In his heart, some muscle
That pumped the blood he passed
Into my veins?

My heart is still beating
Against yours, off only
By the space of a breath
As you hold me close with that boldness I adore
Dear one! I may still weep when I remember
But my blood forgets itself
In you!