Robert Lietz

a poem

**

Scattering Meme


........1

Orphans

.....Another September Saturday. The juice
and breakfast cakes.....-- the Skandanavian coffee --
dark and lingering.....-- coversations
stretched.....-- from dreams through breakfasting.
We're reading these albums now --
this white ink naming as much as she saw fit --
until we are all remembering --
sharing her own and someone else's comforting.
Until it is all remembering.....-- another
September Saturday.....-- a history according to --
premised in having seen / or having
seemed a victim.


.....For now we are orphans.....each of us. And now
we are left to all they told us or neglected
/ said in their sepia asides.....-- to all that belief
/ location...../ family places keep --
a history observed according to.....-- written as leaves
this afternoon.....-- started to red or paling --
in sharing the words we must.....-- a generation
at the head.....-- sharing these errands asked --
targeting full color.....-- and this last
necessity.....-- ending what love took up
with one small cup in Ketchikan.




........2

Following Up

.....Sure as the mind...../ the heart.....make sure --
bringing our confidence to sense
and senses to conclusions.....-- we're.....closing
the cottage down.....-- another
football Saturday.....-- moving indoors when clouds
and rains blow over us.

.....So much as we're following...../ following up.
So much as we've shared their love
and century-long surprising.

.....We're letting the grandkids cook.....-- the grandkids
play their hands in all that common history.....--
building themselves.....in time.....their shares in all of this --
and sharing themselves their sense
of the old men in the pictures.....-- asked
to this closure now.....-- made..still
by the grumbling overhead.....-- listening to hear
her own.....or.....someone else's urgings --
to hear.....this sudden lightning
saying something yet.




........3

Base Line

.....Insisting.....still.....-- we think.....-- displeased
as she'd been.....they'd.....spread
her own dead husband.....like a base-line --
insisting we do as asked.....-- blood
/ bloodkin.....-- and we.....-- by love.....-- expected
to act as family.....-- believing.....him
humbled here.....-- poured in that line.....to edge
the unkempt grass and wildbloom --
and flowering himself by now.....-- knowing
to welcome this bold drift.....-- settling
as she is.....among.....the limbs
and changing leaves.....she measures
/ dusting this ground old loving
made some common
points about.




........4

Trilliums

.....So we might learn and improvise.....-- so
she might dance as weathers pass --
we're flinging.....these ashes now.....-- into
this calm...../ this lift.....-- into
this sunlight.....filling.....the places under them --
higher and higher still.....-- settling
to dust the wild strawberries and myrtle --
and even ourselves.....-- her
audience.....-- her.....own
imaginings.....to
measure

...../ believing.....the old year.....turned in us --
a year we've preserved
and understood.....-- matched.....to origins --
matched.....to these autumn films
and to these women singing then.....-- bringing
the men to harmonies.....-- even
as one man dreamed they might
in the last century

...../ here where these ashes drift.....-- where
the rain begins again.....-- in loud
and laving

.....and in lightning.....-- rinsing the cottage roof

...../ the limbs and ghostly trilliums.....-- and
even these limbs.....where dancers
blur.....into.....the albums.....-- blend
to themselves in flames --
and in the flames of their own motions --
leaving.....these lower rooms
to us.....-- and leaving.....the upstairs
now.....-- where.....the wraps
and.....blankets
had not warmed them
quite enough.




........5

Being Incomplete

.....And which of us could tell.....-- whether
you see us here
or even care to.....where you're living.....-- when
all we have thought goes wrong
/ all as it is will seem to have gone wrong
with the Explorer.....-- spritzing
the drive with gas.....-- when
the light leapt up to play
from the ignition?


.....We've re-packed the cooler...../ dogs --
the heavy bag of ash.


.....We're leading this convoy north.....-- David
and Elaine.....-- Jay --
Jeff...../ Jennifer...../ Justine.....-- and the dogs
along.....-- as good as we
commanded --


.....And we.....-- following the chapter's lead --
into the hemlock
and open sky.....-- under the moving grey --
and into so many privacies --
we're better for being / incomplete --
and here.....for ourselves
as much.....this nineteenth of September --
reading.....ourselves
the moving rains.....-- the gestures
of light in rain.....made clear
in the turned foliage.




........6

Schweitzer Track

.....The century-old.....( almost ).....wood shutters
wait on us. And.....-- almost
a half-year since.....-- we've come to these rooms
so many made their own by rearranging --
closing another chapter out.....-- remembering
the Maywoods then.....-- and the news-crews
hovering.....with their ballpens
and recorders.....-- dedicating land
protected.....by your family
fourteen decades.


.....So it's Schweitzer Rd......-- in the more local
sense of it.....-- this
Schweitzer Track of the Grand River Terraces --
this cottage.....that.....brings us home
with its boards and its formica...../ its tables and tiles
where the wood-mice wintered-in
and.....left.....their traces.....-- these.....ashes
that bring us home.....-- twenty months
in love.....-- sharing the autumn woods
with them...../ and.....the woods-
shade.....and.....happy
grasses.


.....MeMe. MeMe two. Elsa...../ Elsie.


.....And here. And all this history to finish --
in levels of light.....and rain --
believing you've overheard...../ have.....called us
hear...../ are listening.....-- Elsa...../Elsie --
inviting this joy.....you meant for us to celebrate --
presenting ourselves to you --
here with these kids of kids of kids.....-- where
I am a stranger less.....-- twenty months
in love.....with one whom you resemble --
in touch.....-- as.....the family
trues itself.....-- so much as we come
by our own means.....and
.....explanations.




........7

Two Guys

.....The grandkids hammer the shutters into place
imagining the snow-belt cold. Another year
I'm listening.....-- as far as we've come this afternoon --
hearing these screws powered down
to shut a place against the seasons.....-- listening
to the land and blood.....-- to these bullets
breaking glass.....-- the grandkids' guns downslope --
the sounds of the winds in leaves
/ where.....the winds
have played.....for decades
at the midden.

.....I'm sitting listening. I'm following hand and voice
/ these sheets.....and sheets.....and tapes
I must make do.....for history.....-- remembering
ahead...../ and.....her.....-- and.....how
a few words ordered them.....-- how.....a few scenes
hold.....-- and.....held.....-- within
the terrible decompression.....-- with.....water
and light.....ahead of them.....-- with.....only
the hints of gold...../ the hints.....of you
and history.....-- Alaska.....a dream
as yet.....-- and the Front Range
then.....-- a dream.....made
do for anything.

.....But what was it two guys said.....-- beginning
to think of families? And
what was that stillness afterward.....-- with one's
Swede bride...../ one's Swede daughter --
with only these hints of you.....-- remembering / ahead --
and unguessed as yet.....-- among the years
and their convergings? Then.....it's.....these kids
/ grandkids.....-- great-grandchildren
pumped.....and standing glass.....-- with.....kids
of their own...../ and.....all.....this history
to practice.....-- targeting.....the upright
no one's.....felt.....the vacuum in
for seasons.....-- these.....wine-bottles
drained...../ arranged
/ sighted.....by minds at lengths
and.....blown back.....to
dream-light.




........8

The Slope

.....Think of the chair the junkman raised
and took from us.....-- that almost
heart-shaped stain.....-- and think of the pan
burned dry.....-- grackle-dry
and popping...../ boiling the water
filled to brim --
the morning as it was distracting me.....-- remembering
the cup.....cairn.....cusp
and lilied hill in Ketchikan.....-- the coffees
a heart's made sensible --
Ohio itself makes
sensible.

*

.....So the slope erodes. So the grandchildren
climb to join the family
at the crest.

*

.....The slope erodes and holds. And scenes
I will keep in mind...../ in heart
so long as I am breathing.....-- whatever
those two guys said --
whatever they tell her now.....-- ask
of the bridge that was
/ the new bridge
overlooking
water

...../ or ask of the cottage histories.....-- the stories
we've made our own
/ made strange by our retelling.....-- whatever
those two guys said.....-- when
words would not have eased them
in their dreaming
/ building those lifetimes
sealed in wasp-light
and cement.




........9

Cutting Sharp

.....Ohio itself makes sensible. The mother she was
and is.....-- whatever
those two guys said of it.....-- the powder
and ash come back
/ and this clear sack of ash
the flames have left them
of a grandmother
/ asked us as one and one
and one and one
as family


...../ to lift what she was to light.....-- this ash
to returning light --
whatever those two guys say of it --
as dry...../ as granular
/ as cutting-sharp as thirst.....-- this
straight-worn
rounded stuff...../ this rib
or fingerbone.....--
this.....split.....bird-bone --
as dry
and.....unquenched.....as thirst --
as.....dry
as the lightning was
and the thunder
following
the light toward
origins.




........10

Within You Here

.....Without you.....-- none of us. Not
even these few words
breathing.....comes to sum.....-- touched
and touching on --
circling within...../ among us here.....-- this
sentence...../ song.....-- these
humors you left for us.....-- that.....we
might see our ways through --
gathering this burnt and broken glass --
these fragments of tile and brick
the huntsmen.....left to lie
about their fires.

.....We settle ourselves to joke.....-- sharing
ourselves.....these first arrangings
of the lawn-chairs.....-- within.....you
around us here.....-- and.....speak
for ourselves.....-- sped down.....-- even
as gravity.....withstands.....-- this
music of can and can't...../ this.....chaos
of storms.....and.....ash
and stuff.....you lost the eye for --
as outwielding plays through
/ against.....so.....many
binding forces.

.....I think.....how you sat.....at chapter's end --
commanding me then
with reticence.....-- asking.....these words
the poem.....comes from --
bringing.....you.....home.....-- abstract --
for.....all.....the traveling
you've been through.....-- inspiring
the lungs.....and.....lips
and.....tongues.....to work
some magic.

.....But walking...../ within you.....here --
building ourselves.....this time
so many passing worlds.....-- which
of us could tell.....-- whether
you heard.....these words.....-- doppler-
dulled.....or.....attaining clarity --
alive.....as you must be.....now --
surprised by the blue
maybe...../ and by the weave
of synergies.




........11

To Join Them

.....I'm glad for these winds again...../ for rains
as they focus lives
and focus us on driving.....-- glad for these ends
of summertimes.....-- these autumns ahead
with all their segued ends
and closures


...../ believing that suddenness as is --
whatever she was and is --
raised by our hearts as asked --
by all our living fire
/ into that wider
accuracy


.....to join them in becoming.....-- an exquisite primary
/ raised in the breeze and returning light --
seeming to settle / lift...../ and lift again
in coming brightness.....-- a suddenness
as is.....-- illumining our griefs
/ our lingering


.....and lighting the joys we've come to lift
as she has asked us.....-- leaving
ourselves in part.....-- and.....feeling
the motions fall.....-- with her
among the many limbs and myrtle --
finding their ways to one
and.....several places
on the frets.




........12

So We Might Know

.....There's.....nothing to gain.....denying
the choices left to us.
And.....nothing.....you've made this field of
/ practicing a hand
for eighty years toward signature --
naming.....the dates
and company.....-- the.....yards
in that same.....white ink
on.....the black leaves
of the albums.

.....So.....we might know.....(we think)
the.....old-style.....brides
and matriarchs.

.....So we might.....seem.....participants --
gazing.....on married
or.....widowed light.....-- whatever
that music was
/ whatever.....the plasmas were --
the rhythms
remembered and ahead...../ a chorus
we dream.....to stand
the.....living voices.....here --
with / out.....you
alive.....maybe.....-- and
counting.....down
in decades.




........13

Thrift

.....And now.....that.....we're twice almost
our way through calendars --
and now.....-- with the rains
and road's-edge willows
whispering.....-- we.....stand
the well-spoken thrift
/ withstand


.....the stillness.....you have authored --
and now.....this magenta
light.....-- emerging.....and.....masked
by blown clouds
and.....reappearing. Nothing's
to gain.....denying
the.....choices
left to us.


.....Nothing's to gain denying
the choices left to us.


.....Denying the fourteen months before --
that calendar and more
you.....azed...../ and held me
in your measure.....--
amused.....( maybe ).....afraid --
taking.....this.....pulse
for all.....I meant.....to ask you
in your daughter --
received.....in your daughter's
love.....-- and.....ever
her own.....in love
I'd.....dreamed
impossible.




........14

To Innocence

.....The darkness narrows
the whole outdoors
to innocence. We're sharing
these wines --
sharing these breads made up
with buttered herbs
and garlic.....-- this.....dinner
a day comes to --
remembering the rains and ash
/ the ways the rains
came over.....-- how sunlight
appeared in mists
when the rains seemed
finished with.


.....Each with a place.....-- a line
to speak
the complications --
the names
as you wrote them once --
drawing to mind
their living
faces.




........15

This Bitter Joy

.....And each with this bitter joy
you.....asked
for us.....to celebrate. This
common pulse --
this single refrain we stretch
/ and need
to ask your help with.....-- these lines
you have seemed
to speak.....-- and seemed
to sum.....by your
instruction.

.....There's nothing to gain denying
the choices left to us --

.....conceived
in these words drawn tight
/ this wrap
of practiced language.....-- this pulse
we think...../ and page
beset with its own
motion.....-- and rubbed
with the moonlight then --
stretching the moonlight
into easters
/ the pages till fibers show --
meaning to let
the light pass through
and chance


to matter.




........16

Lucky Star

.....The voices surround us.....listening --
the sensible alchemy
a September afternoon turns evening.
We're meeting in Canton --
Kurt's.....-- paused in this Friday's drive
and trading-in Explorers --
taking this meal between two homes
/ conceived in our own week-long
and lightly-connecting
solitudes.

.....We think of the winter-ending light --
of the winter woods
brightened.....to.....spring measures --
remembering.....the stories
she told...../ re-told.....-- until the autumn
or.....almost.....autumn calm
/ and.....our own words.....spill --
to.....fill in.....scenes
revisiting.

.....Think how she sat at chapter's end.

.....And.....think.....of the girls.....then
/ daughters.....their own
Swede countryman's.....improvidence
made over.....-- of oceans ahead
for them.....-- husbands.....a lucky star
/ her own mother's light shone on.....--
the spaces.....re-read.....on mirrors –
in understated sympathy.....-- in
scampis.....and wine...../ or
conversations over colas...../ these
meals.....prepared by hands
in.....happy minutes
next to us.




........17

Then It Was

.....I think of the ash / earth.....-- shadows
at play.....in parlor
or in dining-table lighting.....-- and think
how she knew to ask me then --
taking this pulse for good.....-- meaning
to see if I might match her
with her own.


.....Then it was two months...../ less. And
putting my own to her cold hand
as she commanded.....-- hoping.....-- and
hoping less.....-- stepping
to you.....in the bluest.....spring light afterward --
and into this half-year since --
these Mondays working strings of traffic
set between.....-- these
Fridays again.....-- and scampis
dressed.....as dreams
at table-side.




........18

Twenty Months in Love

.....Think of the flight she'd asked for us to celebrate!



.....Remember those rains the river-ridge conducted over.



.....And think of us.....-- twenty.....months
in love.....-- come.....home
to that root-held slope
shrinking down to water.....-- reaching within
to close the cottage down
another season.


.....And.....-- without her..... -- none of us --
none of this dancing
still.....-- putting the tongue-and-groove
to test.....-- Time was to test.....--
distraction to test.....-- for all she left us
in the dancing.....--
incomplete.....but family.....-- weighed
with that bird-bone
sent us in that sack with her cremains --
that snap.....-- like
survival's semaphore.....-- burned
from that blue-green gown
they must have left her
at the finish.




........19

Turning into Pearl

.....So the moods.....-- bath-water warm --
roll over us.....-- over
and around a mother turning into pearl. So
the moods roll over us --
convinced how those bird-bones rose --
proof enough of wings --
and how those ashes rose.....-- settled to rise
as light and mist
moved under them.....-- settled in dusty specks
to dust the wild strawberries
and myrtle.....-- even as rains came back --
opening the warm earth
of suawa.....-- and this wick tonight --
tinctured in sweet oils.....-- burns
the night-shade off.....-- attending
such flights.....and songs
as we've been asked
to celebrate.

**

return to sawbuck 3.4

**
Robert Lietz is a professor of English and Creative Writing (fiction and poetry) at Ohio Northern University, with poems appearing in numerous journals, including Agni Review, Carolina Quarterly, Epoch, The Georgia Review, The Missouri Review, The Northern American Review, The Ontario Review, Poetry, and Shenandoah. Seven collections of his poems have been published, including Running in Place (L’Epervier Press), At Park and East Division ( L’Epervier Press), The Lindbergh Half-century (L’Epervier Press), The Inheritance (Sandhills Press), and Storm Service (Basfal Books). Basfal also published After Business in the West: New and Selected Poems. He has completed several print and hypertext (hypermedia) collections of poems for publication, including Character in the Works: Twentieth-Century Lives, West of Luna Pier, Spooking in the Ruins, Keeping Touch, and Eating Asiago & Drinking Beer. Besides the print publications poems have appeared in several webzines, including: The Salt River Review, Terrain, The Alsop Review, The Black Swan Review, Kimera & Sawbuck 1.6.