{"id":12020,"date":"2021-09-13T14:57:59","date_gmt":"2021-09-13T13:57:59","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12020"},"modified":"2021-11-02T20:41:10","modified_gmt":"2021-11-02T19:41:10","slug":"2-poems-12","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12020","title":{"rendered":"2 poems<\/strong>"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/h3>\n

OBVIOUS DAYS<\/strong><\/h3>\n

for Matt Bevis<\/p>\n

We made a happy home and there we pass our
\n<\/em>obvious days.<\/em>
\nEdward Lear<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

They still have their surprises, but there\u2019s nothing they conceal
\nThey\u2019re preparing us for:\u00a0 not the new long poem I\u2019m going to write
\nEventually, or something we\u2019re going to do that\u2019s different
\nFrom what we couldn\u2019t imagine twenty years ago, and then did.
\nI miss the thrill of the unexpected, but as someone no doubt said, diminished
\nExpectations are a kind of happiness too, as fit for celebration as the rest.
\nI know it sounds so second rate, which is how the present always feels
\nBy contrast with the potential of the past and promise of a future
\nThat shrinks as you get older and turn into what you are.\u00a0 And it\u2019s easy,
\nToo easy.\u00a0 But the more you think about happiness, the more elusive
\nIt becomes.\u00a0 And the more you think about yourself the more unreal you are.<\/p>\n

I believe both that there\u2019s something else,<\/em> and that there isn\u2019t—
\nKeats\u2019s \u201cnegative capability,\u201d the ability to make no sense and mean it,
\nOr Fitzgerald\u2019s idea of intelligence as a power to harbor contradictory thoughts
\nAnd still get by, though all I share with them are sentences and confusions.
\nI used to take more pride in it than I do now, as though it masked a truth I knew
\nThat other people didn\u2019t, though it\u2019s really just a style that seems to point beyond itself
\nAnd helped me make it through the days when they did too.\u00a0 I love our life,
\nDespite the fact there\u2019s nothing that it lacks.\u00a0 I love the way it keeps its promises
\nAnd promises so little.\u00a0 Most of all I love the equilibrium between its
\nHighs and lows, its ups and downs—between the lovely morning sunlight
\nAnd the disappointments limited to the weather and the evening news.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m in a reading group trying to fathom Heidegger, a philosopher I dislike,
\nThough I\u2019ll give anything a try.\u00a0 He seems to think we\u2019ve lost a grasp
\nOf what it is to be<\/em> the Greeks once had, and that we need it back.\u00a0 He manifests
\nAn overweening sense of struggle I instinctively distrust, that tempts me too.
\nWhy can\u2019t ordinary happiness be enough, or even everyday unhappiness?
\nThere\u2019s nowhere else to go, and even if there were it would be just another home,
\nAnother life within its limits.\u00a0 People think that heaven could be anywhere but here,
\nThough it can\u2019t be, since it isn\u2019t anywhere.\u00a0 I know all that.\u00a0 And yet I\u2019m moved
\nBy things I know can\u2019t possibly be true, since here is always where we are—
\nLike the story of Owl and Pussy-cat sailing away in their little boat
\nTo a land that\u2019s merely somewhere in a poem, but where they finally find
\nTrue happiness on the edge of the sand, by the light of the moon.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

CAPTIVITY<\/h3>\n

The light dove, cleaving the air
\n<\/em>in her free flight . . .\u00a0\u00a0<\/em>
\nKant<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

It\u2019s about feeling free within the limits,
\nWithout knowing what the limits are.
\nIt\u2019s the way I feel each day, and you do too—
\nSomething I mean to talk to you about,
\nBut that meanders off before I can.
\nIt\u2019s what it\u2019s like to live in an illusion
\nThat continues forever, knowing all the while
\nThat it\u2019s ordinary, insignificant and real—
\nLike Matt Bevis on his mother\u2019s complaint
\nAbout his captive canaries in the cellar:
\n\u201cBut they\u2019re in cages, Matthew.\u201d\u00a0 \u201cYes,\u201d
\n<\/em>I said, \u201cbut they\u2019ve got lots of room.\u201d<\/em><\/p>\n

I remember Rogers Albritton sitting in Riegelmann\u2019s
\nIn 1985, writing about the will as necessarily free,
\nAnd how that means there\u2019s no such thing.\u00a0 He dropped that
\nIn the final version, but I still think it\u2019s true:
\nThere\u2019s all the room in the world for everything
\nThat\u2019s actually in the world, but what isn\u2019t in the world
\nAre these \u201cfree bloody birds\u201d we think we are,
\nTelling stories to ourselves and pretending that they\u2019re true.
\nThe truth lies underneath them, where it can\u2019t be seen
\nAnd doesn\u2019t matter.\u00a0 I like to think that what I can\u2019t remember
\nIsn\u2019t real, which is a way of living in the present, or forever.
\nMy life feels continuous, with no sense of limitation
\nOr an ending, which is its whole point in a way:
\nThere\u2019s no one like me<\/em> it says to no one in particular,
\nAs though it were almost real, and went on forever.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

OBVIOUS DAYS for Matt Bevis We made a happy home and there we pass our obvious days. Edward Lear   They still have their surprises, but there\u2019s nothing they conceal They\u2019re preparing us for:\u00a0 not the new long poem I\u2019m going to write Eventually, or something we\u2019re going to do that\u2019s different From what we […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":361,"featured_media":12079,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[401,405],"tags":[404],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\n2 poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12020\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=12020&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"2 poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"OBVIOUS DAYS for Matt Bevis We made a happy home and there we pass our obvious days. 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