The fate of my fate’s fate
carries with it such an interesting date
I suggest you mark it on your calendar.
You may be sleeping then, your life already decided,
but tomorrow let others see
(hang your calendar prominently)
the day art succumbs to poetry.
There are great cycles which occur in the world
unstoppable. And this will be one them.
Words will flood the mind of every individual
as the sensuality we understand changes,
eclipsed by a subtlety that rearranges
our thinking, as if classical music
suddenly replaced those white noise machines in offices
or women suddenly became overwhelmingly
interested in baseball and history.
Here stands a man in an ill-fitting suit,
a loser, suddenly a remarkable mystery;
with the shout of many waters, the denied
speaks at last, we hear
what the rejected thinks, and the words,
passionately clear,
tell us what we remembered but somehow forgot—
that you hate him because you don’t understand
but now you do not.