For Robin Blaser Poem by Matthew Zapruder

I don't think much
of what you thought of
when you lived not too far from here
with the relaxed golden
godless beautiful people

that was many years before
unbitterly you went to live
north among
the very old magic lack of sunlight

now that I live here
I don't think too much
I just sit in my chair
and maintain
the distinction?
just me sitting here
the window and what's outside
someone else's presence
is not with me
and therefore with me

I find it very easy not to love
part of someone
letting pass
the blurry actuality
through
my own dry bright suburban heart
perhaps the orange breasted robin
your namesake picking up its alien head and howling
every once in while

then shoveling the dirt in the garden
with its narrow horrible beak
again looking for something
the coffee pot just sits there maybe some tea
would be better?
I have a favorite cup
I am not much help

to myself in figuring
what I should stop trying to do
I am totally rigid and aware
all mail comes to me
I do not hear
the calm song I know