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White Hole
I started to say "I'm sorry," but then I realized I wasn't sure what I was sorry for, so I'm sorry I got your attention. I'm sorry all this started from nothing and now is something. Baudelaire's idea that we can no longer imagine heaven but only hell may be outdated, maybe we can't imagine hell, either, which means we really are there, one more thing to be sorry about. Lyn Hejinian's My Life may be "post-modern," it may be excellent, but it is more vague than Bruno Schulz's Cinnamon Shops, and if you say, no, Hejinian is more specific, more detailed, and therefore harder to contextualize, you're saying that we've become harder for each other to imagine. I remember some beautiful trees from my daily drive home over the summer, I'm sorry I didn't pay enough attention to them, but maybe I did, since I remember them, I did something right and I'm still sorry for it. I started to say I was happy, but then you'd look at me and I would get self-conscious and thus not-happy, and it would be even money which of us would say "sorry" first. © Mark Cunningham received an MFA from the University of Virginia, and still lives in the Charlottesville area. His astronomical poems take as their starting point some element in the shape, symbolism, or scientific knowledge about the title subject, and go from there. Though the title subject might never appear in the poem, its characteristics determine what goes in. His poems have appeared in Paragraph and Small Spiral Notebook; a selection of his poems on parts of the body, is on the Mudlark website.
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