louise gluck - inside the moment

the place of time in a poem is something that fascinates me. i love to read work that reveals the poet capturing the essence of human experience and most especially when that essence is articulated within the fullness of an instant. louise gluck is one of those writers who draws together the myriad features of a moment, minimizing the reader's awareness of its architecture and filling that great space with images that compel the reader to address its essence and then in turn to reflect upon their own place inside the experiencing of that moment.


here are two examples of louise's writing . . .

moonbeam

the mist rose with a little sound. like a thud.
which was the heart beating. and the sun rose, briefly diluted.
and after what seemed years, it sank again
and twilight washed over the shore and deepened there.
and from out of nowhere lovers came,
people who still had bodies and hearts. who still had
arms, legs, mouths, although by day they might be
housewives and businessmen.

the same night also produced people like ourselves.
you are like me, whether or not you admit it.
unsatisfied, meticulous. and your hunger is not for experience
but for understanding, as though it could be had in the abstract.

then it's daylight again and the world goes back to normal.
the lovers smooth their hair; the moon resumes its hollow existence.
and the beach belongs again to mysterious birds
soon to appear on postage stamps.

but what of our memories, the memories of those who depend on images?
do they count for nothing?

the mist rose, taking back proof of love.
without which we have only the mirror, you and i.

happiness

a man and a woman lie on a white bed.
it is morning. i think
soon they will waken.
on the bedside table is a vase
of lilies; sunlight
pools in their throats.
i watch him turn to her
as though to speak her name
but silently, deep in her mouth--
at the window ledge,
once, twice,
a bird calls.
and then she stirs; her body
fills with his breath.

i open my eyes; you are watching me.
almost over this room
the sun is gliding.
look at your face, you say,
holding your own close to me
to make a mirror.
how calm you are. and the burning wheel
passes gently over us.